This is Faubion. He'll be joining us.

I've said for a long time that if I ever become filthy rich, I'm hiring a masseur to just follow me around. In my mind, he is following me from high-powered CEO meeting to my huge corner office and from there out to my private Concorde so he can massage my shoulders as I make billion-dollar deals and fly to London for the evening. I don't know why I'm a CEO in this fantasy; I'm not even interested in business. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, massages!: I'd like to get more.

I give damn good massages (if you ask nicely and don't wear out your welcome), but reciprocation from the world at large does not seem to be forthcoming. Right now there is a knot in my neck (my neck!) and tension all down my spine, and I'm starting to think that pinched nerve in my shoulder is back, and I can't even get my cat to walk on me, let alone attention from someone with opposable thumbs. So if you want to come rub my back, or pet my head, or poke me repeatedly, please do, and I'll, you know, bear your children or something.