I was standing in an elevator Wednesday and I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pant pocket.  I thought that was strange, as I never get a signal in this elevator.  Then when I reached down into my pocket, there was no cell phone for me to answer.  I was rushed to the doctor and I discovered I have phantom vibration syndrome.  Or PVS.

I bargained with God and offered in exchange for my life back, I would submit at least 16 more reviews to TER.  He said, "OK, whatever" and so I have a new lease on life now, which is the good news.  But my sad story does not end there.

When I returned home, my goldfish, Fort Knox, had died.  Obviously, I was already quite emotionally drained and this put me over the edge.  I'm not ashamed to say I cried and had a subsequent nervous breakdown.  It wasn't until my bowel movement the following morning that I sent Fort Knox off, as he stated in his final wishes - Straddling a missile like Slim Pickens in Dr Strangelove.  You had to use your imagination, because being a fish, he didn't have legs to straddled the my bomb in the swirling flush.  More proof, where none is needed, that evolutionists are wrong.

Let this be a reminder to all of you who haven't been tested for Phantom Vibration Syndrome.  PVS is a serious disease.  And when a loved one catches it from you and dies, you have to live with guilt forever.  

Was the phantom vibration a call from God about my goldfish dying?  Perhaps.  But over the next 16 reviewed encounters with poon-shaven hussies, I will not take this precious thing called the hobby for granted ever again.  Everyday is a blessed rimjob.

I apologize for the lapse of TER access that these events may have caused.  Hopefully the rough patch is over now.  For me and John McCain.  Thank you for caring and God Bless everyone.