Oct. 24, Some Mad Artist had let loose. In a wild fit, the world was spattered in colors and textures that no sound mind could ever hope of even dreaming of. Reality was being stretched to its limits, and beyond. On this autumn day, the world was on fire. Sunlight was illuminating every particle, every particle was humming, each collision was a spark. The sparks flashed beyond the field and periphery of my conception. I drew the curtains on the meager, pale distraction of fall foliage outside my window, and got back to reading "The latest news from Toto", or "The Keyboard as a Long/Bottleneck." Then, Mr. Young's disclosure, DoJ's "Shared Traits of Potential Assassins:" Sometimes you see those "Wanted's" posted in the post office and think, "Jeeze, looks a little like me." Then you try to remember where you were during all those blackouts and fuzzy periods. Well, I looked at DoJ's STOPAsses and thought ( with a Homer Simpsonesque voice balloon appearing above my head), "That, ...sounds like me." My next thought was more comforting, Gov'STOPA was a description of the species in general; both in suits and out, behind the counter and before, in front of the camera and behind the scope, in the (gas)chambers and on the lever/gavel. But hey, admitting you fit the profile is kinda like raising your hand. So I'll sit quietly in the back of the class and read the deaththreats carved on the desktops. Who's Toto gonna be on Halloween?