Before I head back to the salt mines of Editor & Publisher, I want to toss a quick but heartfelt todah rabah to Denton and Steele, for offering this gig, and Coen, for putting up with my IM'd neuroses. (I know, I know: bad idea to skip therapy this week.) Jess promised this would get me laid, which it didn't. And Maer may well not speak to me again. But, otherwise, it's been a blast. An exhausting blast. I'm gonna go get a drink to decompress—and, having learned my lesson last time, everyone's invited. See you at the Peach Pit. —JO

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