I thunk-it

:-?
One day, invisible WH insider say, "Big Chief Boo! drafting executive order for 'forever detention of people' whom him no like."

Next day, Boo! mouthpiece say, "Oh no we'z not neither."

Same day, Boo! adds signing statement (to a duly-passed bill) that sez, "Me no like these parts of new bill so me no obey these new laws. Me Big Chief Presdent, me more powerful than silly Congress."

Power corrupts, and Boo!bama is instantly as corrupt as corrupt gets.

On the "Low-level terrorism" front, we here at SAS G-HQ are wondering if the DoD considers an operation like this one a "peaceful protest" and if so, then we are in danger of having our Constitutional Rights stripped away, then to be rendered into perpetual detention, incognito, forever & ever. After no little deepthought on the matter, we conclude that any remaining semblance of sanity we may now posses would, we hope, leave us almost instantly.

Yes, it's true. Having made a real "best-effort" to really imagine what it would really be like to be locked up all alone in a cell with no way out, we would (hope to) go stark-raving mad within 2 hours and probably reach a totally vegetative state before bedtime (that would be our last but best hope).

We used to imagine ourselves tougher than that---we saw ourselves with a steely mental will that would somehow get us through unscathed, even unchanged. Well it ain't there. The only way we could survive physically would be to die mentally. The horror of retaining complete sanity and full cognizance while in an unjust, unConstitutional confinement forever should be unbearable but, Would it? That's the really frightening aspect. I would hope and pray for utter insanity, and please bring it on quickly.

Boo! knows no God, only the devil.

x
Scary, how quiet it's been around here at Secret Attack Squirrels' Global Head Quarters ever since we hauled Sas back from the fish pond---still stunned senseless from colliding with the side of that house next door. At first we were a huddled, silent mass of concern for the odds for his survival...betting was running 20 to 1 against when he suddenly shocked us all by suddenly regaining consciousness and asking for a tall bourbon..."neat, please"; then it was our concern over his sudden, generally-deemed unhealthy interest in revisiting the Potato Canon Rapid Deployment Squirrel Launcher (PC RDSL) question. Someone suggested that he take a little break by taking a little glide around the tree trunk and "unwind" a little. Well it turns out, Sas's flattened face had an unanticipated effect on his aerodynamics and instead of sweeping in a gentle arch around to the left he flew headlong right into Mr. Brown's Freightliner conventional semi-trailer tractor/trailer long-haul combination rig. However, there's been an upside:

Owing to his much lower velocity (compared to hitting Mrs. White's house just a few feet from leaving the PC RDSL tube) Sas was able to partially complete an evasive maneuver to the right just before striking the sleeper on Mr. Brown's truck, passenger side, and this glancing blow seemed to have straightened out his face...somewhat. And then, running to his rescue, Black Jack Brisco performed a small miracle by rapidly twirling Sas around by the tail at a blurring RPM---the resultant centrifugal forces causing his face to return to normal (almost). Black Jack has been awarded the prestigious "SAS Quick-Thinking While Under Extreme Duress" award for his quick thinking while under extreme duress: BJ never would've got 'er done had he waited till Sas came to again.

Meanwhile, all the MSM hoopla over Whacko Jacko's sudden demise is rapidly subsiding and, we can only hope, continue to subside...at least until it's restoked when Congress (presumably) will pass a Bill honoring that sick whacko and then, not to be outdone, Boobama will posthumously place a Presidential Medal of Honor on the casket just before it's paraded through the Cad-infested streets of L.A. on the roof of a stretched Hummer...probably a white one.

Finally, THIS JUST IN:

Secret Attack Squirrel has just convened and emergency SAS SSS (Super-Secret Session) and they are now in session, the question on the floor being, "What can we do about Boobama asserting his unconstitutional 'right' to indefinitely detain anyone he chooses, forever & ever if he so chooses, without any of the legal rights to legal recourse guaranteed by the Constitution of the USA. [Editor's note: we are not optimistic than anything can be done and in any case, we're downright certain that nothing will be done, since we are no longer a Nation of Laws.]

Crying at 11:00

One: It seems there may have been one very positive upside to SAS's head-on with Mrs. White's house: the spackling we noticed surrounding his impact zone was first thought to be "gun-shot residue" but it now seems quite plausible that every one of those little black dots may actually be splattered flea-guts! SAS richocheted, they didn't! Yippee! SAS has not scratched once since the test-launch that went so wrong.

Two: It seems we are not alone in criticizing MSM for their non-stop gushing over Whacko's death when there is so much real news of real import going on in the world: media critics & pundits the world over are pounding MSM by parroting this blogger's blog-attack on MSM's...etc. etc. etc.

Two sub-1: This is a form of corporate mind-control;
Two sub-2: this is merely a distraction so corporations can screw US six new ways to Sunday but the average American meathead won't notice 'cause they're all distracted by etc. etc. etc.

THIS JUST IN: Secret Attack Squirrel is currently busy with slide-rule in paw, presently wandering around and eyeing Mrs. White's house's elevation and cooridnates with one eye while scrutinizing Rocket Reo's discarded(?) potato cannon with the other (eye). The saga of the Rapid Deployment Squirrel Launcher may be...

TO MAYBE BE CONTINUED IN THE NEAR FUTURE

This may not bode well, but: Black Jack Brisco is, even as we blog this, currently burying our one & only propane gas torch. Good for him! :-]

:-/

Already famous for our infamous lack of political correctness here at SAS G-HQ, we're back again after a brief hiatus, to refuel the burning torch of mental sickness by sickly pointing out the sickness of others: Whacko was a Sicko and media the world over is too, as are a whole lotta human beans. Witness the Beeb's 24-hour love-fest of "Micheal was the greatest gawddam rocker who ever ficking lived!!! He was the ficking best!!! He was fucking King!!! (Hey, Wasn't King the name of one of his critter-pets?) OMG we-gotta canonize Jacko 10x over & we gotta do it Now-Now-Now!!!"

Here's a perv' who we believe fornicated w/apes & kiddies & llamas, probably fruits & vegies too, not to mention the illegal and actionable commission of child endangerment by dangling a baby off a balcony, much to the screaming, adoring delight of screaming, adoring Jacko Sicko fans. "Drop him, Drop him, see if it bounces!" Boy-o-boy Alice Cooper, have I got a lyrics line for you baby.

Meanwhile, our first (and hopefully last) test-firing of the "Potato-Cannon Rapid Deployment Squirrel Launcher" did not go so well. Throwing good sense and all caution to the wind, Secret Attack Squirrel insisted that he be the first live projectile.

Bravely stepping (i.e. squirming & clawing his way) into the very breach of unimaginable danger (aided by some impolite back-end stuffing by Black Jack Brisko) the launch tube was capped, its combustion chamber filled with a copious charge of propane, a match was applied to the fire-hole and...

...just at that moment Little-Willie Billie, who was holding the launch-tube's muzzle in his role of Elevation Control Officer, suffered an irresistible itch that just had to be scratched (we're blaming a flea for this) and he dropped his end of the barrel just as SAS left the launcher at an inconceivable velocity of what has been guesstimated at somewhere north of several-hundred-thousand feet per second. Unfortunately, this fired Sas broad-side & point-blank into the side of a neighbor's house but lucky for him, it was a slightly glancing blow, so he ricocheted harmlessly and splashed-down safely in a nearby fishpond...he was soon revived but, I fear, he will forever have an exceedingly flat face---which is not very becoming to any squirrel, especially a Super-Hero Flying Squirrel! Also, he's been acting rather strange lately, walking it little circles and mumbling something about moving Mrs. White's house twelve giant squirrel-hops to the right, whatever that means.

We'll get back to yuh later.
...

Secret Attack Squirrel can't seem to erase (Boo!'s) head spook at the CIA, i.e. Lyin Paeonetta, from his radar screen. Secret has tried Ajax, a Brillo pad, even White-out...all to no avail. I've suggested covering the entire screen with tin foil but that material is in short supply here, owing to the fact that all of us here at SAS G-HQ use the stuff for making our crash helmets. Admittedly, our helmets are rather small; but dumpster-diving and the Trash-can Tracking Team have yet to yield even one single full roll, thus we are reduced to resuing used tin foil from baked taters, roasts & etc. Speaking of taters:...

On the new high-tech'-front, Rocket Reo Speedsquirrel is currently developing a new Rapid Deployment Launch system for reaching flying-squirrel cruising altitudes in a matter of milli-seconds. Rocket pilfered the spec's for something called a "potato cannon" and he claims it can be easily adapted for launching flying squirrels. The first operational test is only awaiting the location and aquisition of a propane torch and a Bic lighter. Discarded Bic's are easy to find but they rarely light, so they generally must be stolen from [nearby] humans at great personal risk to our opperatives' personal safety; propane torches are problematic 'cause they're so damn hard to carry while climbing a tree. This reporter will report as soon as there are further developments on this front.

While we are 100% certain that Bill has never read this blog (nobody does 'cause nobody knows about it 'cause we don't tell anybody about it) we here on Secret Attack Squirrel's 24/7 Red-eye crew are all 100% pleased that he (Bill) is a big-shot who's finally getting up to speed on this fact: the congressional democratic majority is the new republican party and Boobama is not a liberal at all, he just plays one on TV (speeches & whatnot).

And now, not wanting to leave a burning, unasked question unanswered, here is why we don't tell anybody about this blog: we are a Secret organization---we wouldn't be a secret org' if we outed ourselves, Now would we duh? So why even blog? Because we like talking to ourselves, that's why. Plus we have rather thin skin that's easily punctured by criticism and just one pointed negative comment would cause us to explode like an overinflated balloon. BANG! (We self-inflict enough injuries on ourselves all on our own without inviting attacks from outsiders.)

Furthermore, it does no good preaching to the choir on political issues; nor can conservatives ever be reached/affected by "the facts", sound reasoning or by eloquently waxing philosophic, which is half of what we do here, for instance:

We the People, i.e. the US, has gotten too big not to fail. It's called "the economics of scale"...just look at G.M. and for that matter, the now-extinct giant dinosaurs. Here's how it works: if you double the size of anything, it's weight also doubles but the tensile strength of its superstructure's components remain the same, which is why there is a practical limit to how tall tall buildings can be built. Okay, I guess the term "economy of scale" does not apply here, but we liked the sound of it.

A federal government for a nation can be considered the main superstructure component and the "power" needed to make things run is its gross weight...we are long past the point where US "power" needs got so great that the government (politicians) can no longer resist against it, so now they are all bent every bit as crooked as Black Jack Brisco's tail, which is a terrible thing to behold.

There is no remedy, although there is a solution: split the country into two. After conferring with the other SAS 24/7ers we have reached a consensus: the Mississippi River---everything east becomes the East United States vs the West United States.
This is a brilliant concept, sez I.

...and a bummer: No assembly required. Mr. B just opened the box, rolled the mower out, flipped up the handle & tightened it down (no tool required), added 20 oz. of 10w30 motor oil, poured in some gasoline & he was done with it...why, he doesn't even do the mowing! His wife does it. What's the world coming to?

Philm at 11:00.

Fearing the worst of possible outcomes, this reporter bailed out of SAS G-HQ el-pronto at the first signs of consciousness returning to Black Jack Brisko after the match between the toes prank followed by a regrettable re-ignition of cat fur when attempting to soak a still-smoldering paw in rubbing alcohol. Pushing caution to the limits, we stayed away for 48 hours, just to be on the safe side.

But turns out Black Jack was quite philosophic about the whole affair because it was his playing the same prank on Three-toes Tony two years ago that lead to the defining condition which precipitated Tony's nickname. Rumor has it that Black Jack merely opined, "Well, what goes around comes around. Tony was just gettin' even, that's all." (All's well that ends well.)

Sadly, the same can not be said for D.C. Beltway politics: Boobama continues his kabuki dance routine while blue-dog dem's hold the curtain for him to make his repeated and uncalled-for curtain calls. So far, there has been nothing to write home about in terms of a safe return for this country back to a nation of laws, any semblance of Equal Justice for all and/or single-payer health care, which reminds me:

Whenever a congressperson wails about how awful it would be for the whole US population to have to suffer under a "government run" health care plan we should merely make this statement to his/her face: "Well if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me. I'll take it." And ask, "If it's so gawd-awful bad, Why are you still using it instead of buying your own [for-profit insurance company] coverage with your own gawddamn money?" There all sacks of shit, every one.

Oh boy, I see Mr. Browne is assembling a new lawn-mower...I gotta see this.

[doh]

re. our recent "WANTED" notice for new members.

We here at SAS G-HQ just assumed that it would be presumed that it was simply understood that only squirrels need apply...so far so good. We further assumed that our readers would presume that while most of us are flying squirrels, others of the non-flying variety would be considered...still good, so far. Where we fell short was failing to note that non-flying squirrels must, at the very least, be able to jump small children in a single bound.

Well, during testing, one candidate utterly failed to clear the neighbor's 3-year old toddler (in a single bound) and ergo face-planted at high velocity into our test-hurdle's snotty little mug. Then it seems the little ankle-biter instantly surmised that our ill-fated testee was after his binky and all hell broke loose...a detailed description of the ensuing skirmish is not fit to print.

The little bugger-eater's giant humanbean father (aka Mr. Greene) then joined the battle forthwith and poor little Larry Leafhopper was last seen sailing over a nearby garage screaming in terror and presumably in deep dismay and he has not been seen since. Sadly, relations with Mr. Greene have been strained ever since.

SAS Directive #357: Stay clear of the Greene house, at all costs, till further notice.

We have attempted to smooth things over with Mr. Greene by leaving gifts on his front porch, but he scorns them all and we have now learned that he is a crack-shot with a B.B. gun, which precipitates the following: WANTED: Surgical tweezers suitable for the removal of B.B. pellets from squirrel's pelt; also, a bottle of iodine would be much appreciated.

Black Jack Brisco offers this recommendation: "You (i.e. the SAS crew) would be well served to leave your nutty little gifts in a conspicuous basket, so that Mr. Greene doesn't step on them unawares and fall on his ass every time he steps outside his front door. Indeed I postulate that he may well suspect that you're leaving those well-burnished walnuts to serve as crude booby traps. (Note: they are quite effective in that regard.)

Meanwhile, Prez. BooOma has assumed yet another Bushco unContstitutional unAmericanism illegality by insisting that We the People got no right to know who's been a-callin' at the Semi-black Semi-White Bushie Whore House at 1600 Penn' Av, saying: "Yoo folk dohn need-a know whoz I'z-a be talkin' to in diss-here White Crib. I be duh prez now & I dohn gotta answer to yoo no moe. I done got elected, fool! & I got-duh powah now, baby!"

Too bad, soo sad, I voted for this sorry piece of crap.

An APOLOGY times a million is now in order, to all my brothers & sistas who ain't "white" like me (and george w bush) and who don't know me. I laid on that black-rap thing heavy 'cause I am so gawddamn-awful pissed off (more on this later*). It seems to me that a non-"white" prez, of all people, would be the first to take a flame-thrower to that mighty wall of Bushit crap that Bush/Cheney stacked up over the last 8 years but no, Obama's just building it higher & making it thicker and the Constitution of the United States of America is buried somewhere underneath, suffocating as I write this.

*The rap-thing. Good & bad comes in all colors and frankly, "nigguh" rap is a banner for Bad character. Whitie gets rapped for saying "nigguh" but that's not where I''m coming from; I'm coming from that place where Blacks use the term on one of your/their/our own. It's an ugly thing...not that word, but what that word has come to mean; and what using it means. It's ugly, and I wanted to get just as ugly as I could when blogging just now about this "Mr. President", Mr. Barak Obama.

He's not as as bad as w, not by a long shot...yet. But how far's he gonna go? He's keeping all the bad shit w started plus adding more to it almost every day. He plays us along with high words, then sneaks around the corner to confer with fellow conspirators(?) who We the People are not allowed to know...if there's nothing dirty going on back there then, Why hide their faces? Hey Mr. Prez, Why don't you want We the People [who elected you] to know who's got your ear? What's going on back there? One thing's for sure: if it was on the up-&-up you wouldn't be hiding them from U.S.

I'm really sorry about this, but I gonna "publish" it anyway 'cause it needs to be said.

P.S. WTF are we into & how we gonna get out of it?

[:]

We have learned the hard way that ye old trick of putting a match between the toes of a sleeping friend and then lighting it can be hazardous to your health. Here's the skinny:

Last night's G-HQ beer binge was brought to a screeching disassemble when Three-toes Tony slipped a wooden kitchen match between the toes of a slumbering Black Jack Brisko, lit it & scurried aside to watch some highly anticipated comical results...but Black Jack was not much amused and in fact, he came totally unglued and went totally ballistic on all of us. One would never think that such an old and battered tomcat, one-eyed and gimpy to boot, could move so fast. Nobody escaped without a scratch (there were 12 of us in the hanger) and two are now missing large swatches of fur, plus poor Ollie Longjumper's once-magnificent tail has been reduced to a 2" stump--his flying days are over.

To make matters worse, once we got Black Jack settled down n the First Aid loft we learned (again, the hard way) that immersing a second-degree burn into a shot-glass of rubbing alcohol is ill-advised, especially when the fur surrounding the injured area is still smouldering at a temperature exceeding the combustion point of pure alcohol. Not a pretty sight, and some of us may have suffered permanent hearing loss. But none of us were otherwise injured owing to Secret Attack Squirrel's sagacious expediency of at first securing Black Jack to the E.R. table (with electrical tape and rubber bands) before beginning treatment.

Black Jack Brisco is now resting comfortably, thanks to Wally One-eye's brilliant quickness at knocking him over the head with 40 oz. bottle of Colt .45.

Uh oh, he's coming around now & I'm out-a here!

Yes boys & girls it's true: Secret Attack Squirrel is taking a much-deserved & way-overdue deep bow right now, even as this reporter reports it.

What's the auspicious occasion for this auspicious event? Ha! It's been publicly intimated by a high-ranker in a high place in a low-spot in Maryland in just barely not uncertain terms that the evil x-warlard veeper Dicker Cheaney actually wants US to be attacked just to prove that he's better'n Boo.

Of course, Sas has been saying all along that the worst-of-the-worst neocons are and have long been all in favor of terrierist attacks on US because this foments fear--Fear being a fantastically powerful weapon which only they, the evil neocons, know how to use to utmost efficiency. Indeed, we here at SAS Global HQ recall one truly icky-evil necon once-upon-a-time actually saying (about 9-11) that, "...sometimes fate hands you a truly wonderful gift."

It goes without saying that everyone here on Sas's squad was outraged by that outrageous remark!,,,and doubley so when absolutely nobody with a pulpit called for that dirty rotten bastard to be boiled in camel spit until his eyes popped out of their greasy, wicked little orbits. Why, it was so bad that our mighty-brave Secret Attack Squirrel swooned and lay prostrate beneath the corner-cabinet for many hours and then, after reviving, babbled incoherently for two days running. This reporter and Sas's whole EMT (Emergency Management Team) were at a loss what to do, which reminds us...

We're still a little short of paws here at SAS G-HQ because many of Sas's original crew members have not returned from that fateful fartbomb detonation of over three years past and they are presumed either irretrievably lost, dead, deranged, or possibly devolved back to their natural state of squirrely and not very smart wildness...plus we suspect on fairly solid grounds that at least one may have actually been blasted completely out of Earth's orbit...that was one hell of a fartbomb.

What we're getting at: WANTED: A few brave squirrels to join Secret Attack Squirrel's Secret Team of Secret Squirrels, aka the SAS STSS. All successful candidates will each receive a really spiffy, neat-oh! stick-on shoulder patch (i.e. no painful and unsightly stitches required).

Inquire within your own minuscule braincase.

Ted Stevens of Alaska

So much has happened since April of '06 that I can't even recall all that should be piled up here to be the supporting basis for what is to follow and besides, it would bore unnecessarily. So I'll just attempt a brief sketch.

First, two comments:
1) We were (and still are) relieved beyond words that Bushco started no new wars, nor did W impose martial law in order to keep himself in power beyond the end of his second term;

2) we were guardedly optimistic that Pres. Obama would wield the newly-recovered Democrats' double-edged majority-axe in Congress to restore the US to a nation of law...I say "guardedly" optimistic because we were suspicious of Obama from the git-go.

Turns out our suspicions are not only confirmed (by our new president's persistent misbehavior) but we are deeply chagrined to find that the reality is far worse than our greatest fears had ever conceived, even in our most cynical of moments.

To use the broadest brush available, here goes:

B.O. has fouled himself (and continues to) by spiking his administration, cabinet and "executive appointments" with conservatives, Blue-dogs and out-right, in-your-face Republicans. Sick.

At virtually every turn, B.O. ignores his oath of office by failing to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America; nor does he enforce its laws...only selectively does he do so.

Most grievously, B.O. has assumed for himself the Bushco mantle of unchecked secrecy and unlawful powers--in particular, he now holds certain individuals above the law, i.e. his blantent determination to block investigations into manifold crimes which were clearly [not arguably] committed by the previous administration; furthermore, to have stated w/o any qualifiers whatsoever than no one from the previous administration will ever be prosecuted by his DoJ for crimes committed while they were in office. THIS IS IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION TO HIS OATH OF OFFICE!

Meanwhile, B.O. wants to close Gitmo while keeping open other "black" prisons in Iraq and Afghanistan where there is no rule of law, no accountability. B.O. continues with "extreme rendition", disappearing people, unwarranted wiretaps and worst of all, he maintains for himself the unconstitutional power to suspend the right of habeas corpus at his will and on his word alone.

Another reeking, un-emptied basket of WH bushit is B.O.'s continuation of the Bushco DoJ policy of selectively targeting anyone who does not toe the conservative line while giving free passes to those who do. Two prominent names come to mind to illustrate this: Don Seigleman, and that congressman from Alaska, What's his name? It'll come to me...and I may have to correct the "Seigleman" name, as my mind is badly muddled this morning.

The list goes on and on and on, but we've put in enough already to provide the gist of why we now believe that the Obama presidency will deliver the final blow which will utterly destroy the our Constitution by coninuing the Bushco legacy of seeding the Supreme and Federal courst and his DoJ with neocons and holding certain people above the law while selectively targeting others.

This president is guitly of war crimes (after the fact) by letting known perp's off and he is currently committing them himself, as outlined above.

There is remedy available, but our Congress is just as corrupt as this president(not) is.

And this is just the beginning (of the end).

As you may remember from our last episode, Secret Attack Squirrel had just returned mysteriously from his mysterious disappearance of over three years past and he was just graciously granting an impromptu interview when the Intruder Alert Alarm sounded and our furry little super-hero shot out of this tree like a rifle bullet. Turns out it was Sas's old nemesis-turned-friend Black Jack Brisko returning from his own self-imposed sojourn into a self-imposed news blackout. He (Black Jack) now has a limp.

I have asked Mr. Brisko if he would like to take the keyboard and tell us in his own words about his long absence. Here we go...take it away, Black Jack Brisko:

Well, after Secret turned in his cape and disbanded his merry band of flying, madcap tree-hoppers, I tried to hold this woody blogfort all by myself but I took a nasty fall on the Saturday before Easter Sunday of ought-six & my left-back heel was badly crushed...ergo my tree-climbing days were over, or so I thought.

I don't know who this character is who I found in Secret Attack Squirrel's Global Headquarters, but he's a cute little duffer and he at first thought I was going to eat him--understandable, since I'm a rather large cat (albeit past my prime and gimpy) and he's rather small, even for a squirrel. Oh, he says this is his blog. Oooo-kay, I'll be brief.

I've broken many bones in my life and beleive me, until you've crushed a heel you know nothing about pain. I was fully disabled for over six months, nearly starved, and during that time I was unable to even look at a tree, let alone climb one. It's taken me this long to even attempt this venerable old dogwood & I wouldn't have chanced it now but for seeing ol' Secret scurrying around up here yesterday, so here I am. I see Secret's not here right now. So what brings him back, anyway?...here, you take the keyboard.

Me again, but I'm signing off to cop a chat with Black Jack.

Where's SAS been? Ain't sayin'.
What's he been doin'? Ain't sayin'.

But we can make this intrepid (if obvious) inference: He's been paying attention.

A brief, informal and off-the-record interview:

Me: So Sas, what brings you back after all this time?

Sas: Bad news. We've elected a republican wearing thinly-applied black-face and fronting a fake (d) behind his name and, in Jimi's words, "...that ain't too cool."

Me: No Sas, I'm pretty sure Obama really is at least half-black; and a Democrat.

Sas: Color's only skin deep and actions speak louder than words. What we have here is a case of bottled Bush-Lite that's been out in the sun to long: in a word, Boo is skunk-beer. And pouring skunky Bush-Lite into Pabst Blue Ribbon bottles doesn't make it taste any better.

Me: "Boo"? You mean Barak Obama?

Sas: Yeah, Boo, as in "spook". What's that?! INTRUDER ALERT ALARM!!! Bail out...


TO BE CONTINUED