#... :o

How you hate women! They succumb too easily. They give you no contest for power. They don't understand the ironies and the obscure literary jokes. You make love with your nerve ends and all the time the brain under that yellow hair is scheming, planning, preparing, analyzing. . . Worn machinery may rattle on for a time, my dear; but there comes a day when the axle chafes and grinds, the rod breaks and the engine is nothing but scobs and lumber fit for the madhouse. . . . Go on driving yourself. Drive your men. Conceive more and subtler ways of getting the better of a sniggering world. Take out the spigot of your spleen and let it choke your masters. But when you're brought to infest my door with your begging, expect nothing; for I should sooner pity Apollyon myself.

My dog has an attitude problem.

Hello~ How are you??