The Last Final WuzzaDem Post:
An Episode of Mission Impossible in Which the Recording in the Opening Scene Was Made By Jim Phelps's Elderly Grandfather
"Good morning, Mr. Phelps."
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"What, you can't say "good morning" to your own grandpa?"
And on that rather lame note, we're hanging up the "Closed" sign.
I hate to be picky, but do you have anything a little more...I don't know..modern?
That's a little better, but why is it crooked? And what's with the glare?
Oh, come on! That would have been a perfectly good sign, but you had to hang those stupid drapes - or whatever that is - in front of it and obscure the first and last letters.
Don't you think this one's kind of...commercial?
You know what - just forget I said anything, it's fine.
So, that really was the last post. Thanks from both of us, it's been fun, but now we must bid you ado adew adoo whatever.
UPDATE: I'm They're touched. Bravo, basil!
UPDATE III (from John): Thanks InstaPunk. And thanks to everyone for the kind comments and e-mails.
To answer few of the questions people have been asking, we haven't struck it rich; we're not in the poorhouse; I do like salsa; we are not perfecting our plan for world domination; OK, so that was picante sauce; no, we don't actually have a plan for world domination; look I don't care - it had tomatoes, onions, garlic and cilantro, and I put it on my corn chips, so just drop it already; OK, so if we don't have a plan for world domination then maybe I shouldn't have said we weren't perfecting it; I swear, if you bring up the damned salsa again I'm going to stab myself in the eye with an ice pick!
You know what, I'm done answering questions.
