The final countdown, doodleoo doo, doodleoo oo oo

In less than 12 short hours I shall be leaving, on a prop plane, don't know when I'll be back again.  But I'm guessing early September, awash in the sweet smell of fresh caribou blood, me hopes, and ready to make mountains out of mole hills in the Golden Heart City (Fairbanks).  I signed on the papers today and Angela and I are now the proud parents of 3 acres of permafrost.  With a little help from global warming and our friends in the republican party we'll have beachfront property in under 30 years.  Now that's an investment baby.

Who needs a chainsaw when you have a Grover?