MAGPIE TALE: The Truth About Letha

The markets may be sinking and jittery, but we've got our Magpie Tales to ground us.

"Dorene, we need to talk." She always hated it when Clifford said that. His family was always trying to talk things out, and it always ended badly.

Dorene's family never talked about things, preferring to take their secrets to the grave.

"Well, go ahead and tell me. What has that sister of mine done now, Clifford?
Letha Clemons had always been the embarrassment of the family. Always showing up at the wrong time and in the wrong attire and disappearing when she was needed.
She had followed quite a different path than her brother Wade who was now traveling the tent circuit and had a very popular radio broadcast each Sunday and Wednesday nights from WRFW in Toledo.
Wade took Letha's daughter Adele under his wing a couple of years ago, and she was doing quite well with her own children's ministry. But everyone wondered what had happened to Rusty.
"Well, out with it Dorene," told Clifford. "What do you know about Rusty?"

"He's doing just fine. Very fine, actually. Working in Dallas as a husky boy jeans model and the mascot for a vegetable company. He's done quite a few public appearances under the moniker of 'Johnny'. He's the leading husky boy model in the Southwest, though they airbrush his silhouette for the vegetable ads."

"And, of course, he's supporting Letha while she does nothing except honky tonk and loll around in bed until noon," Dorene fumed.

"But it puts a roof over their heads and food on the table."

"More food than Rusty needs. I know he's just having fried chicken and gravy and none of the Wonderbread he needs to build a healthy body. You know it builds strong bodies in eight ways. Eight ways, Clifford!"

"I know, I know....but what can we do, Dorene."

"As usual -- nothing. I told you I didn't want to talk. Talk always leads to nothing but this sort of disappointment."
Just then, Cousin Clara called them in for dinner as she put the needle on for a gorgeous Julie London album and a scrumptious supper.
To no one's surprise, Letha met a horrible fate two years later on her way home at 3 a.m. from the Ebb Tide Lounge in Glendale, California, where she and Rusty had moved as his modeling career had spun off into bit parts on Leave It to Beaver and Father Knows Best. He would end up under the care of Clifford and Dorene where he would be a National Merit Scholar and culinary master in his "Bachelor Living" classes in high school.
This would lead to him living his dream and opening a small chain of restaurants headquartered in Grand Rapids where he lives to this day with his significant other of 35 years, Sheldon Dreysdale of Dreysdale Dry Cleaning Service.

Oklahoma Space Boy

Obscure Moments in Presidential History

Here we witness a very ugly scene at the 1959 White House New Year's party a few martinis into the evening. After several drinks, Edith Head grew weary from hearing about her "Mamie bangs". She finally lashed out to clarify that her hairstyle had nothing to do with the First Lady and then unleashed an assault on her fashion sense or the lack there of. This then went further down the rabbit hole as a toddling Edith made several crude jokes about Ike, Mamie and "banging". Ike then came to his wife's defense and is seen here in a shot that exhibits his previously concealed "diminutive" stature next to a stalwart Ms. Head.

Happy Monday

What We're Listening to This Morning

This Baby Looks Like It Can Do It

Way Out West Side Story

I've been reading The Story of a Marriage in part due to my long standing fascination with San Francisco's western districts, many of which could pass not only for Pasadena or Palo Alto but even Kansas City or Omaha.

So it was nice to discover the Western Neighborhoods Project, with a healthy cadre of stories, photos and links. It's not quite equal to my beloved Bowery Boys, but then neither is the subject matter. Speaking of which, the B-Boys posted a tellingly well-informed post on Julius, that other historic Manhattan bar that pre-dates the Stonewall Inn by a century or so. My memories of it were never terribly quaint. Usually some bridge and tunnel troll would converge and immediately grab my crotch and ask if I had plans.

Mr. Pinky to You

Friendatella was telling me about Pinky Lee the other night, and I had heard about him but had never seen an actual episode. It's pretty obvious he hates the kids as much as they are scared of him. However, those are some very talented dogs in the second half of this clip.

A Touch of the Castro and Weimar Chili

It's barely a week into the year 2009, and I'm already halfway to meeting the grand total of number of visits to the Castro I made in 2008 -- two. It's hard to believe that I'd find much reason to exceed that number of visits this year since it's really hard to find much in that neighborhood that is remotely relevant to my life. Though now that the Noe Valley Streetlight Records is gone, I may have to venture over there more often, but if I've already gone that far, why not just drive or 33 it over to Amoeba in the Haight? Anyway, I was able to pick the full two seasons of Stockard Channing's 1979-1980 sitcoms (worth the $6.98 price but not a penny more).

The main purpose was to see the screening of Orson Welles' 1958 A Touch of Evil. It was great to see it on the big screen. There was murder, drugs, racism, alcoholism, obesity, oil wells, Zza Zza and inter-racial marriage.

Here are what I consider to be the highlights:
* Dennis Weaver saying that it was not his job to change fuses at a remote desert motel.
* Orson Welles saying "Lawyers? Phooey with lawyers, all they care about is the law."
* Marlene Dietrich making the most famed chili on both sides of the border.
* Janet Leigh proving once again that she has the worst motel karma in the history of travel.
* Mercedes McCambridge simply snarling and looking very butch.
* Acid being thrown on a poster of Joi Lansing's character "Zita".
* Orson Welles snarling, "English! Say it in English. I don't speak Mexican."
* Evidence that in the late 1950s everyone in border towns drove enormous convertibles with enormous fins.
* Welles standing beneath a forest of oil wells.
* Seeing Charlton Heston's "Mexican" make up in the sunlight.
* Marlene Dietrich having the last line of "Adios" and then walking into the darkness, likely off to make more chili.

Interactive Thursday: Back to School with Junk Thief

One of the best things about Photoshop and similar software is that you can pull out all your old yearbooks and make porno videos with all the macho jerk jocks that tormented you in your teen years and have them play your submissive, begging, insatiable costars. Well, so I've heard from people who do that sort of thing. (Ahem.)

On a much more wholesome note, you might want to run your own face through the software at Yearbookyourself. My favorites are the ones with the ever so caviler spectacles since that's pretty much what the real thing looks like.

Since Tugboat Dave is in the Caribbean, we're doing our own photo challenge here and asking you to take the Junk Thief dare and run your mug through this program. Or be really brave and show us your actual senior photo.

Frida 'n' Reta

This was the night of 1,000 Frida's just around the block from me. Galeria de la Raza was sponsoring a Frida look-a-like contest of some sort and there were Fridas on cellphones, tiny Fridas, bigger than a barn full of hay 'n' more Fridas, feisty Fridas, frumpy Fridas eating tamales at the Roosevelt, Fridas smoking, Fridas spitting, Fridas talking to their homies in a white 1940s roadster, Fridas reading Proust, Fridas in 49ers jackets, Fridas named Fred, Cantonese Fridas, Yiddish Fridas, feline Fridas, and a duo-browed Frida named Lulu.

When I came home, I popped in The Pajama Game, a rare example of second generation Warner Brothers proletarian musical. Unions, large women, a Foy, a factory, and -- perhaps most importantly -- Reta Shaw. The fact that there ever was a Reta Shaw and that she was captured singing and dancing is one of the rare joys of life. I plan to write more about her soon.

Please feel free to talk about her among yourselves in the meantime as I prepare for a very early Sunday morning flight and raod trip.

I Still Have...

...my very first hankie, given as a second birthday present by my Great Aunt Cody. Aren't you jealous? Don't you wish you had a Great Aunt Cody?

Here you can sing along with the theme song in the meantime:

Interactive Sunday: Another Bachelor Girl Weekend

One of the best parts of up picking up vintage LPs at the Community Thrift Store (besides the fact that an often pristine LP costs little more or less than a single track on iTunes and sounds so much better), is that they often come with interesting back stories.
That was the case today with my finds of a few Mystic Moods Orchestra, Michel Legrand and Les Baxter LPs that were scattered throughout the bins. Only after I got home did I notice that there was a rubber stamp imprint letting me know that these had once been the property of one "MISS LORA DIRENZO 1526 6TH ST". Although it was not clarified which city that address was from, I feel strongly that Miss Direnzo was at this intersection of Sixth and Avenue B. What you think?

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So who was this Lora? A quick search revealed that there was a Lora DiRenzo who graduated from high school in Hamilton, Ontario, in 1946, and a woman of the same name who published a now out of print book of photographs of unknown topics. If she's still around, she'd be around 79 or 80. Did she stay forever a miss? How did her record collection make it all the way to the Pacific? Did she lose interest in the exotica of Les Baxter (best known for arranging the early records Yma Sumac and regaining hipster status in recent years through frequent samplings on Thievery Corporation albums) or does she also have them uploaded in her iPod? Was the woman with amber tinted white hair talking to herself as she ambled up Valencia pushing a shopping cart?

I prefer to believe that Lora is still out there somewhere, still hip and with it eight decades on, sometimes thinking back to her swinging bachelor girl days in 1950s Manhattan when she'd just come back from Haiti photographing traditional voodoo ceremonies. I picture her putting on a track like "Sway (Quien Era)" from Caribbean Moonlight while having a getting-ready-to-go martini before heading out with some friends to hear Dexter Gordon or Sonny Rollins play at some smoky downtown club until her eyes made contact with some charming yet slightly dodgy guy in a black turtleneck who'd just arrived from Lima.

What's your story on Lora?

Now That You've Let Me Get Started

Okay, not all of these are that obscure, but they usually were good for upsetting folks who would show up at my house with a magnum of Riunite and a bucket of KFC back around 1983. Let's just say I opened a few eyes to the world beyond the Midwest. Thus, we delve into the vinyl vaults here at the JunkPlex to recreate a summer evening around 1983.

As the wife of the founder Michael Zilka, Cristina Monet was sort of the Norma Shearer of ZE Record and the whole No Wave movement. She first put out a self-titled disc that was panned with its sort of disco parodies. For years her take on "Is That All There Is" was banned by the authors but is now on iTunes as is her seminal "Things Fall Apart" that many rank as the greatest Christmas song of all time. Today, I hear, she writes scholarly articles about the era, sort of a Louise Brooks of the early 1980s. I offer:
"Don't Be Greedy" from Cristina (1980)
and
"She Can't Say That Anymore" from Sleep It Off (1984)

It's no secret that Junk Thief has a thing for J-Pop and Japanese boys, though not the thin fragile types but more the tough guy detectives of the Mishima mold. But even more than that ilk of J-men, there are the early '80s punk bands, and none top the wonderful Plastics. Nothing is hotter than a manic J-boy screaming obscenities in broken English over a raunchy guitar riff. Enjoy.
"Cards" from Welcome Back (1980)


People grew to tire of August Darnell and his various incarnations, and by the late 1980s and many people dismissed his back up singers The Coconuts as vapid no talents that could shake their booties well but added nothing to the music. They did, however, put out a pretty cool live disc that included "Ticket to the Tropics" that Cristina also covered. The tune offered here is worth giving them a bit more attention in my opinion. Not deep, but damned fun.
"Naughty Boy" from Please Don't Take My Coconuts (1983)


Though their definitive song is definitely "I Love a Man in a Uniform", I also loved The Gang of Four's Hard, which many saw as a sell out. For many it sounded as if they'd gone the route of Bowie's dreadful Let's Dance. To me, there is no comparison. What do you think?
"Is It Love" extended dance mix from Hard (1983)

Maybe they're not that obscure, but I'm surprised that many people have never heard of this band, although their signature tune has been played at many sporting events. I remember it as the ultimate dance tune at certain downtown, late night haunts. Nothing spells a good party more than Pigbag. Never danced to Pigbag? You're life is a fraud!
"Papa's Got a Brand New Pigbag" from the (1981)

Now that we're in a downtown instrumental groove, let's move on to Liquid, Liquid whose "Cavern" was featured in the film Downtown 81 but is best known for supplying the famed base line in Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines". This is one of their lesser known tune but proof of their diversity.
"Groupmegroup" from Liquid, Liquid (1981)

Bangles, Bananarama and any other host of 1980s girl groups pale to this, my favorite of the decade. Sadly, their best known hit was a throw away cover of "Iko Iko" on the Rain Man soundtrack, a movie I never saw mainly because it featured Tom Cruise. This, however, is what I consider to be their best tune.
"Sign of the Times" from The Belle Stars (1982)

Dinah Washington is always welcome at any Junk Thief event. She topped Hank Williams in this lively, joyous cover of one of his best known tunes with superb ad libs and fun harmonies. It feels so fresh that it makes me think it was recorded this week.
"Hey Good Looking" from The Complete Dinah Washington on Mercury Vol. 2 (1951)


Since we're going back a few years, I have to post a favorite tune from Cass Elliott's solo career. Her cover of the only hit by Hurricane Smith is a reminder that she was less flower child than old time club room performer, but she put her own stamp of verve on this version from this album that is very hard to fine but worth the search album.
"Oh Babe, What Would You Say" from The Road is No Place for a Lady.(1972)

And now (gasp) a "show tune" but not in the conventional sense. Two Gentlemen from Verona had book by John Guare and Mel Shapiro, lyrics by Guare, and music by Galt MacDermot, who wrote the same for Hair. Raul Julia headed the cast, and there was this wonderful little tune sung by Diana Davila that sums up my feelings on romance these days. Not exactly I've Grown Accustomed to Your Face.
"I Am Not Interested in Love" from Two Gentlemen from Verona - Original Cast Recording (1971)

What did a bunch of art school punk kids from Boston know about country music? Did it matter? Rubber Rodeo did a fun take on "Jolene" and were a sight to be seen, and I saw them live once at a seedy bar in St. Louis.
"She Had to Go" from She Had to Go (1982)

I know nothing about this "band" except this one hard-not-to-like-because-it's-so-inane single. My niece was about four at the time, and we'd sing it together in my car that summer even when a sun baked cassette dragged the tape at about 22rpms. I knew she was pretty cool back then, because she'd turn to me and say, "I know that they're not singing about my Strawberry Shortcake." Anyone else remember this one?
"Sweepstakes" from Nursery School 12-inch single (1983)

Personally, I preferred Fun Boy Three's tune "The Tunnel of Love" over this GoGos staple, but it was always fun to put it on to see people's reactions as something that initially sounded so odd suddenly turned into something as familiar as salt. A nice downbeat vibe to piss off any Huey Lewis and the News fans of the time.
"Our Lips Are Sealed" from Waiting (1983)

Despite her annoying "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree", I think Brenda Lee is one of the most under-rated early female rockabilly acts. She had volume, energy, verve and more range than many people give her credit for, having also recorded in Italian and German and having played a key role in the early career of the Beatles. I just love this song because it has such a feel of a little Texas girl all dressed up, able to sing with an orchestral back up but still has a bit of country holler in her voice. I especially love her "your little mama" self reference near the end.
"Baby Won't You Please Come Home" from Reflections in Blue (1969)

And finally...not exactly what I'd call a chill out record, but a reflective way to end an evening. Jon Hassell is technically a jazz trumpeter, but he makes Miles Davis sound like Doc Severeson by comparison. His distortion of the instrument and what he called his "Fourth World" recordings that brought together traditional indigenous music with his own retooling in the studio produced sounds that freaked out many of my friends, but pieces like this brought me serenity.
"Dream Theory" from Dream Theory in Malay (1981)

Interactive Thursday - We Three

Yes, we know it's supposed to be Interactive Monday, but with travel it's been hard to be consistent and we decided do it when the mood struck us. This great photo was sent courtesy of the ever mysterious Friendatella. Can you name all three in the shot? What brought them together? Try scripting their dialog at this convergence. Too bad Eva Peron wasn't in town to join them.

Anybody Know...

...if there is a print available in any form of 1957's Jeanne Eagels starring Kim Novak in the titular role? I absolutely adored this film after seeing it only once in 1972 on late night TV. To the best of my knowledge, it's not available in any form or, for that matter, any of Eagels' own movies. It touched me on a deep level, and I hope that when I finally see it again I am not disappointed by it. Eagels, according legend, was sort of an American Anita Berber. Not unlike Louise Brooks coming from Wichita, she came from Kansas City but was a flame that dimmed too soon.

If I could find Skidoo, surely I can track this one down.

Not There and the Light Swallow

We shut down our office early Wednesday, and I managed to go see a matinee of I'm Not There. I'm fighting the urge to go see it a couple more times even though I came away not learning one new thing about Dylan or the times of his greatest work. I'd worried about it not living up to the hype or being humorless. There are some hilarious moments, such as the Cate Blanchett Dylan calling Keith Richards a guy in that great covers band. And the hoopla about the brilliance of Blanchett's Dylan is not over-stated. To me, it's her scenes that get to the core of the story, about why Dylan is still relevant, about why his contention that he is "just a song and dance man" was never said with irony. He was an act, albeit not one with Rockettes or laser shows. Building it all around possibly my favorite Dylan tune, Ballad of the Thin Man, Haynes managed to hit on why our relationship with "stars" or prophets so enthralls us and is also a complete charade. But, at the same time, we need a few charades in our lives to keep certain muscles in shape.

As Blanchett battles with a journalist's attempts to project his perceptions onto him/her, it hit on every aspect of what's annoyed me about unpleasant human relationships in my own life. Too often they have existed in a tiny pool of joint delusion of who the other person is while we retreat into ourselves to allow anger about the other person fester. Sometimes that produces great art, other times it produces madness, depression or suicide.

I also loved that it focused so much on how we can project so much of ourselves on a past we did not live -- as Dylan did with Woody Guthrie and his namesake and Haynes does with Dylan's youth. On top of that, seeing an elderly Richie Havens, whose voice I remember touching me deeply as a child, had great resonance.

It was also fun to be at a movie the day it opened, especially one with so much buzz. Oddly, at the 3:15 matinee, there were maybe three dozen people in the theater. I was one of five under 65.

I followed the film with Puccini's La Rondine with A____ who has tickets as part of the Rainbow Series. A____ and his cohorts insisted that I need to get Rainbow Series since its a chance for me to meet my soul mate. I recoil at that thought but would like to see more Puccini live. La Rondine is definitely a minor but pleasant part of the Puccini catalog. Although I knew Canzone di Doretta and Ore dolci e divine, I'd never heard the entire score or seen it live. A____ and I agreed that it was all very pleasant but more memorable for sets and background action. I mainly remember the maid and a chorus member who stood in an apron smoking a cigarette during the second act scene set in Bulliers. The Belle Epoque vibe was a nice retreat back to the sensibility of L'Eixample, but as A__ and I both said, not operatic enough.

I was humming Going to Acapulco on the BART as I headed home.

Now Hear This - Every Filthy, Stinking Minute of It!

It never ceases to amuse me when people write me with comments on the order of “Do you really steal junk?” or “Are you endorsing crime?”

Oh, of course not. Anyone who knows Junk Thief even slightly can confirm that he is a brown-nosing Mamma’s boy straight-arrow law abiding citizen with nary a minor traffic violation, at least in the past 25-26 years. Just ask my State Farm agent or the S.F.P.D. if you don’t believe me.

But now and again I come across junk at such incredible prices that I feel like an absolute thief. A good example was nabbing the above album by the Hi Lo’s today at the Community Thrift Store on Valencia, a virtual cultural intersection where bohos, bobos, bums and burgeoning bourgeois all converge over vintage shirts, prime vinyl, and a book section better organized and better stocked than most of the for-profit stores in the same neighborhood. I’ve been working hard to keep my vinyl intake and exodus at least at a net balance. For every disc bought I discipline myself to transfer and say goodbye to at least one of the real McCoys, none of the upper register gems, mind you.

An album like this is a great example of the mysteries that abound at such a place as I wonder about the paths that each item took to end up there. This album has a little return address label neatly affixed to the back to announce that it is property of Miss. Mary Jean Herter of Rocky River, Ohio. I’ve actually been on Miss Herter’s street a couple of times. I wonder if she migrated west or just her LPs. I bought the album mainly for the cover for future inspiration since it sort of made me imagine what I’d imagine the Junkettes would look like.

The Hi-Los, along with the Crew Cuts, Four Freshmen and a few others were the original boy band. In all their annoying four part harmonies, they’re a lot cooler than those whining, “rapping” boy band of the past couple of decades. And those poses. Oh, my!

I’m particularly fond of their name itself which is shared with one of my favorite mid-century bars in Oklahoma of the same name.

In the meantime, I’m actually giving some thought to laying down some actual MP3 tracks soon to share the golden voice of Junk Thief. No promises of if or when it will happen. But it really seemed only right as the Junk Thief empire grows.

Somewhat off topic, I wanted to mention the touching reviews from complete strangers that continue to come in for the new season of Junk Thief TV. A particular favorite was posted a couple of days ago:

“Junk Thief is truly demented-I loved it, every filthy, stinking minute. The clips of movie stars disfigured by plastic surgery were especially heartwarming.”

-- Hurricane Rhonda

Oh, Rhonda, surely you weren’t talking about my movie star photos!

Junk Thief Is an Evil Bastard!

Oh, that Mr. Junk Thief is one cruel man. Here it was a perfect, sunny (but not too hot) day in San Francisco, and little Greggy was hoping that after plowing away on overdue work projects most of Saturday, he could go play in the park today. But noooh, Mr. Junk Thief made poor little Greggy toil away like a singular band of elves, cranking out copies of the two set DVD of the first season of Junk Thief TV to give away to his far flung and local friends. Granted it looks and sounds 100 times better on DVD than with the tinny sound and fuzzy images on YouTube, but it's not like his show is that exciting.

With that project finished, you'd think he'd let our poor boy have a break, but then like an insane combination of Tina Brown and Busby Berkeley, he demanded content and two -- count 'em tw0 -- production numbers for the second season of Junk Thief TV. And then poor Greggy had to edit the thing, first on dinosaur Microsoft Movie editor until it just crashed, and he finally got around to learning to use Sony Vegas Movie Studio Platinum 7.0 that he bought months ago but has never taken the time to learn to use. It's infinitely more complex but also much, much more efficient and produces a gorgeous product. Unfortunately that product is as a few hundred MBs and thus won't load directly onto YouTube. Thus the product posted on YouTube is out of sync, the Vincent Minelli worthy colours are washed out and blurred, and the sound is like a 1971 transistor radio.

After all the work little Greggy had done, Junk Thief gave him no thanks and just went into a profanity laced rage and called our boy an incompetent idiot and was ready to hold him down and strangle him until...oh, yeah, wait, Gregg is Junk Thief.

Okay, folks, enough of the ever confusing mix of third, first and now second person. I'll just step out from the curtain and say that if you're one of my far flung blogger friends and would like the DVD set of Junk Thief TV, just email me at junkthief@gmail.com with where you'd like me to send your copy. It's really worth it for music and images on the second season preview.

If the "aesthetic" looks familiar, or obvious, it's no mystery that it heavily borrows from Kiss Me Kate, with the MGM Orchestra's version of "From This Moment On," reaching heights worthy of Charlie Parker or Miles Davis. This song plays heavily in the family memoirs section from which these two photos are borrowed, the first showing my mom, her dad and the infamous sister whom readers seemed intent on trashing in my previous post. She was a complex, conflicted, stylish, controlled, distant, compelling woman whom I simultaneously adored and feared. Our relationship was more about mutual admiration than love, and I have really been struggling to write something of significance about her suicide last December. Her only living heir, her son, has encouraged me to write something but it just won't come.
I truly adore this picture since it speaks volumes about the relationship between these two women and their radically different styles, and I am eternally indebted to both. What's especially telling is that this is not taken at the time of a formal event, but how they dressed for a casual Saturday supper. Though that supper would probably be meat loaf and brussel sprouts. Their high sartorial sense did not translate over to cuisine until the mid-1970s. Not only did this living room in Kansas City (my grandparents home) look like a Douglas Sirk set, the dramas that took place there were the same with everyone speaking in affected, clipped MGM English.
The other shot (just look at those drapes and the continued riot of pink!) features none other than baby Junk Thief and his family. And it was in this living room that Junk Thief was first introduced to "From This Moment On" from the Kiss Me Kate soundtrack. For years he hated that movie and the rest of the tunes that were played repeatedly, the only "pop" music allowed in a household where Chopin, Satie and Debussy were the ruling sounds. The movie itself never held appeal, mainly because it had only been seen on late night TV with drained colors, fuzzy sound and scratches on the print. But "From This Moment On," which is primarily a dance number, always got little Junk Thief leaping around that Douglas Sirk living room, performing balletic leaps as his grandparents looked on in delight, never fearing he'd knock over some priceless vase or tear the rug. (If you've never seen the video "Big Round Up at Lazy Acres," it tells you about how Junk Thief's macho grandfather had no problem with his little grandson being a flaming, dancing nutcase.)

Years later, Junk Thief would have the pleasure of seeing Kiss Me Kate in 3-D on the big screen, and it was as if a hideous building had been sandblasted to reveal a hitherto unknown architectural jewel beneath. Alas, you really can't appreciate the tune on the web.

So, if you're a local, let's plan on a screening soon and I'll give you your DVD. If you're not local, fly out soon or I'll happily mail you your version.