Madam Miaow's Slick Muthafukkaz Guide To Effective Shaving

I've noticed that some of the lads are getting a bit sloppy when it comes to matters of personal grooming. Here's some expert advice handed down to me by my dear sainted Mother which has stood me in good stead all these years.

PREPARATION TIME: 2 minutes
SHAVING TIME: under 3 minutes — with a little practice

1) Assemble the following essential equipment:
a) Quality razor with fresh blade (not necessarily a brand-new blade, but one which is still adequately sharp. Blunt old blades are both ineffective at their designated task and painful/irritating to the skin, so replace blade whenever you begin to experience razor drag, frequent cuts or any other form of unsatisfactory performance. NOTE: a ‘lubricating strip’ is designed to provide a small extra degree of glide, not to serve as a fully adequate substitute for …)
b) Quality foam/cream/gel from reputable manufacturer (it may be necessary to experiment with a variety of products to find the one which suits best)
c) Quality alcohol-based aftershave with nice pong (ditto)
d) Quality moisturiser (ditto)
Desirable but not crucial:
e) Magnifying shaving mirror

2) Even if you’ve just emerged from the shower, vigorously wash face with generous quantities of soap, and water as hot as is tolerable, which will both open the pores and soften the stubble. Fill basin with hot water and place razor therein, allowing approx 30 seconds for razor blade(s) to heat up to water temperature whilst you ...

3) Apply generous quantity of foam/cream/gel to beard area, working it in thoroughly to your hot wet face and now- (hopefully) softened stubble.

4) Now shave, carefully drawing razor across beard first with and then against the growth grain, which may not be consistent over entire face. (This is where the magnifying mirror will be useful to help locate patches of beard area which you may have missed.) Rinse blade frequently in hot water to remove stubble, foam etc.

5) Once entire beard area has been shaved, rinse face thoroughly with cold water for first stage of pore-closing. Rinse razor thoroughly also, so it’s as clean as possible for next shave. Splash on astringent pong to complete pore-closing process and generate exciting and aphrodisiac aromae.

6) Finish off with moisturiser to counteract the skin-drying effect of the shaving process.

7) Prepare to accept extravagant compliments, comparisons to babies’ bottoms, etc. Bask in the realisation that, the closer and more meticulous the shave, the more time can be allowed to elapse before you need to do it all over again.

Thanks to Charles Shaar Murray for letting me watch.

Madam Miaow's Slick Muthafukkaz Guide To Effective Shaving

I've noticed that some of the lads are getting a bit sloppy when it comes to matters of personal grooming. Here's some expert advice handed down to me by my dear sainted Mother which has stood me in good stead all these years.

PREPARATION TIME: 2 minutes
SHAVING TIME: under 3 minutes — with a little practice

1) Assemble the following essential equipment:
a) Quality razor with fresh blade (not necessarily a brand-new blade, but one which is still adequately sharp. Blunt old blades are both ineffective at their designated task and painful/irritating to the skin, so replace blade whenever you begin to experience razor drag, frequent cuts or any other form of unsatisfactory performance. NOTE: a ‘lubricating strip’ is designed to provide a small extra degree of glide, not to serve as a fully adequate substitute for …)
b) Quality foam/cream/gel from reputable manufacturer (it may be necessary to experiment with a variety of products to find the one which suits best)
c) Quality alcohol-based aftershave with nice pong (ditto)
d) Quality moisturiser (ditto)
Desirable but not crucial:
e) Magnifying shaving mirror

2) Even if you’ve just emerged from the shower, vigorously wash face with generous quantities of soap, and water as hot as is tolerable, which will both open the pores and soften the stubble. Fill basin with hot water and place razor therein, allowing approx 30 seconds for razor blade(s) to heat up to water temperature whilst you ...

3) Apply generous quantity of foam/cream/gel to beard area, working it in thoroughly to your hot wet face and now- (hopefully) softened stubble.

4) Now shave, carefully drawing razor across beard first with and then against the growth grain, which may not be consistent over entire face. (This is where the magnifying mirror will be useful to help locate patches of beard area which you may have missed.) Rinse blade frequently in hot water to remove stubble, foam etc.

5) Once entire beard area has been shaved, rinse face thoroughly with cold water for first stage of pore-closing. Rinse razor thoroughly also, so it’s as clean as possible for next shave. Splash on astringent pong to complete pore-closing process and generate exciting and aphrodisiac aromae.

6) Finish off with moisturiser to counteract the skin-drying effect of the shaving process.

7) Prepare to accept extravagant compliments, comparisons to babies’ bottoms, etc. Bask in the realisation that, the closer and more meticulous the shave, the more time can be allowed to elapse before you need to do it all over again.

Thanks to Charles Shaar Murray for letting me watch.

St Ives Storm Claims Lives

So here I am in St Ives, Cornwall, for my birthday break and the Spring Arts Festival.

We packed the car up to the driver's eyeline with Stuff, mostly comprising my summer frocks, shorts, bikinis (a frightening proposition now that the clotted cream and pasties are taking their toll on my summer silhouette), suntan lotion, even a cute summer hat to keep the ravaging UV rays off my face.

Friends assured me they'd had five weeks of lovely weather so I was confident of resuming my life as a beach bum (my current year-round ambition).

I should have guessed something was amiss. After all, this winter they had snow settling for the first time in an age.

We drove down Friday from sunny London. That night it set in.

It's worse than Hurricane Gordon which hit the town in September 2006. We've had unprecedented storms, horizontal rain pounding the double-glazing, an unusual high tide and freezing cold. To cap it off, the new £10 million flood-prevention system they built last year to stop the Stennack road turning into a raging river every time there's a downpour, failed spectacularly.

It poured, the road turned torrential, and many of the shops and businesses in Tregenna Place and lower Stennack have been flooded. This includes one of our hangouts, the Kettle & Wink Bar in the Western Hotel; the butchers; Yeung's Chinese where they do great ribs, and the bookstore much of whose stock has turned to pulp.

Locals are muttering darkly about someone forgetting to turn on the flood system's pump!

But, worst of all, there's been loss of life. Several young locals were in a car that was swept into a stream at Zennor that usually stands a couple of inches deep. On Friday night it reached ten or fifteen feet. The chef from a local restaurant managed to escape but others are missing. Deepest sympathy to all concerned.

Today I ventured out and was immediately bombed by a seagull — bullseye! Not a normal white squelchy one, but one of those splatterers, heavy and dark with sand. I'm telling you, Mother Nature wants us gone and she's not averse to using both comedy and tragedy to get what she wants.

For anyone interested in this sort of thing, I'm performing Anna May Wong Must Die! Friday 8th May at the Salthouse Gallery, 7pm. Charles Shaar Murray performs with Buffalo Bill Smith at the (hopefully dried-out) Kettle & Wink Bar at The Western Hotel on Sunday 3rd May. And the next day (May 4) he gives us the first-ever public reading from his forthcoming novel The Hellhound Sample (published this autumn by Headpress) along with a few thoughts on The Unified Field Theory Of The Blues, a tribute to the late, great JG Ballard and a few songs with Buffalo Bill at The Salthouse Gallery.

Thanks to Steve McIntosh for the video.

St Ives Storm Claims Lives

So here I am in St Ives, Cornwall, for my birthday break and the Spring Arts Festival.

We packed the car up to the driver's eyeline with Stuff, mostly comprising my summer frocks, shorts, bikinis (a frightening proposition now that the clotted cream and pasties are taking their toll on my summer silhouette), suntan lotion, even a cute summer hat to keep the ravaging UV rays off my face.

Friends assured me they'd had five weeks of lovely weather so I was confident of resuming my life as a beach bum (my current year-round ambition).

I should have guessed something was amiss. After all, this winter they had snow settling for the first time in an age.

We drove down Friday from sunny London. That night it set in.

It's worse than Hurricane Gordon which hit the town in September 2006. We've had unprecedented storms, horizontal rain pounding the double-glazing, an unusual high tide and freezing cold. To cap it off, the new £10 million flood-prevention system they built last year to stop the Stennack road turning into a raging river every time there's a downpour, failed spectacularly.

It poured, the road turned torrential, and many of the shops and businesses in Tregenna Place and lower Stennack have been flooded. This includes one of our hangouts, the Kettle & Wink Bar in the Western Hotel; the butchers; Yeung's Chinese where they do great ribs, and the bookstore much of whose stock has turned to pulp.

Locals are muttering darkly about someone forgetting to turn on the flood system's pump!

But, worst of all, there's been loss of life. Several young locals were in a car that was swept into a stream at Zennor that usually stands a couple of inches deep. On Friday night it reached ten or fifteen feet. The chef from a local restaurant managed to escape but others are missing. Deepest sympathy to all concerned.

Today I ventured out and was immediately bombed by a seagull — bullseye! Not a normal white squelchy one, but one of those splatterers, heavy and dark with sand. I'm telling you, Mother Nature wants us gone and she's not averse to using both comedy and tragedy to get what she wants.

For anyone interested in this sort of thing, I'm performing Anna May Wong Must Die! Friday 8th May at the Salthouse Gallery, 7pm. Charles Shaar Murray performs with Buffalo Bill Smith at the (hopefully dried-out) Kettle & Wink Bar at The Western Hotel on Sunday 3rd May. And the next day (May 4) he gives us the first-ever public reading from his forthcoming novel The Hellhound Sample (published this autumn by Headpress) along with a few thoughts on The Unified Field Theory Of The Blues, a tribute to the late, great JG Ballard and a few songs with Buffalo Bill at The Salthouse Gallery.

Thanks to Steve McIntosh for the video.

Dr Who's Army Recruitment role in Planet of the Dead

Trust me. I'm a Doctor!

Reviews at A Very Public Sociologist and Harpy Marx cover the Dr Who Easter special so I'm spared that particular chore. But I will add my alarm that, as we slip silently into Surveillance Britain, even this innocent series, beloved of our childhood, has been inducted into the government's Planet Paranoia.

Maybe I'm being a sensitive flower, but just as our armed forces ratchet up horror after horror in illegal wars, and our police are revealed to relish stormtrooper tactics in matters of democratic protest, it seems our media are ushering us into an era where we are militarised drones.

We are all Morlocks and Eloi now.

It's bad enough when Army Recruitment ads are styled as shoot-'em-up video games to attract a generation whose lights have dimmed through a life at the computer. I got to the end of Doom II! it's potent stuff. (And, incidentally, said to have been originally used as combat training for US soldiers.) I still remember travelling through the West End after an all-nighter, and noticing that the buildings looked not quite real. I suppressed my own urge to go up and hit the space-bar but not before checking for Revenants and other non-humans — in this dimension, that means everyone.

I loved it. I loved the feeling of unreality, defamiliarising your old environment and giving you a new vista from which to explore the real world.

But I could tell the difference, Philip K Dickian head-fuckery aside. I knew concrete reality with live human beings occupying their own universes was the default mode, and that my existence is more than a binary life-or-death, good-versus-evil struggle decided at the point of a gun.

The media, however, is changing the terrain. Seismic shifts are going undetected. The BBC Easter Special, like the wheedling witch and her gingerbread house, like the wolf in the red-hooded granny disguise, like every other con artist throughout history, is out to devour you.

The latest episode uses a trusted figure, David Tennant as the Doctor, to tell kids to join the army, or as it is incarnated here, the Unified Intelligence Taskforce (UNIT). An army, mind you, made up of characters who are prepared to kill their scientific dissidents. Okay, it WAS Lee Evans (and therefore vaguely understandable) and not Dr David Kelly, but mitigating circumstances notwithstanding, homicidal behaviour legitimised by a uniform is being further naturalised in the culture.

Once our heroes have returned to Earth aboard the flying Routemaster bus (I hope they got permission from the Ministry of Thoughtcrime to film it), the Doctor encourages the two young male passengers, Nathan and Barclay, who happen to be of squaddie age, to join UNIT, the very force whose incompetence and dependence on expediency to the exclusion of the softer human qualities, almost led to disaster. We've already seen what terminal measures they are prepared to take with anyone who follows their conscience when the female officer threatens to shoot the scientist who doesn't immediately obey her order.

Is that Dr Who's Easter special message? The meek don't inherit the earth, they go silently and uncomplainingly to their fate.

This stuff isn't playing to adults who can more or less fend for themselves; it's going out to children whose worldview and sense of self is still malleable. The social model being presented to them as normality is a worrying one where you kill people instead of making things to keep our way of life going. As if this is how things are and was ever thus, even in the world of the imagination.

And that's what I call evil.

Dr Who's Army Recruitment role in Planet of the Dead

Trust me. I'm a Doctor!

Reviews at A Very Public Sociologist and Harpy Marx cover the Dr Who Easter special so I'm spared that particular chore. But I will add my alarm that, as we slip silently into Surveillance Britain, even this innocent series, beloved of our childhood, has been inducted into the government's Planet Paranoia.

Maybe I'm being a sensitive flower, but just as our armed forces ratchet up horror after horror in illegal wars, and our police are revealed to relish stormtrooper tactics in matters of democratic protest, it seems our media are ushering us into an era where we are militarised drones.

We are all Morlocks and Eloi now.

It's bad enough when Army Recruitment ads are styled as shoot-'em-up video games to attract a generation whose lights have dimmed through a life at the computer. I got to the end of Doom II! it's potent stuff. (And, incidentally, said to have been originally used as combat training for US soldiers.) I still remember travelling through the West End after an all-nighter, and noticing that the buildings looked not quite real. I suppressed my own urge to go up and hit the space-bar but not before checking for Revenants and other non-humans — in this dimension, that means everyone.

I loved it. I loved the feeling of unreality, defamiliarising your old environment and giving you a new vista from which to explore the real world.

But I could tell the difference, Philip K Dickian head-fuckery aside. I knew concrete reality with live human beings occupying their own universes was the default mode, and that my existence is more than a binary life-or-death, good-versus-evil struggle decided at the point of a gun.

The media, however, is changing the terrain. Seismic shifts are going undetected. The BBC Easter Special, like the wheedling witch and her gingerbread house, like the wolf in the red-hooded granny disguise, like every other con artist throughout history, is out to devour you.

The latest episode uses a trusted figure, David Tennant as the Doctor, to tell kids to join the army, or as it is incarnated here, the Unified Intelligence Taskforce (UNIT). An army, mind you, made up of characters who are prepared to kill their scientific dissidents. Okay, it WAS Lee Evans (and therefore vaguely understandable) and not Dr David Kelly, but mitigating circumstances notwithstanding, homicidal behaviour legitimised by a uniform is being further naturalised in the culture.

Once our heroes have returned to Earth aboard the flying Routemaster bus (I hope they got permission from the Ministry of Thoughtcrime to film it), the Doctor encourages the two young male passengers, Nathan and Barclay, who happen to be of squaddie age, to join UNIT, the very force whose incompetence and dependence on expediency to the exclusion of the softer human qualities, almost led to disaster. We've already seen what terminal measures they are prepared to take with anyone who follows their conscience when the female officer threatens to shoot the scientist who doesn't immediately obey her order.

Is that Dr Who's Easter special message? The meek don't inherit the earth, they go silently and uncomplainingly to their fate.

This stuff isn't playing to adults who can more or less fend for themselves; it's going out to children whose worldview and sense of self is still malleable. The social model being presented to them as normality is a worrying one where you kill people instead of making things to keep our way of life going. As if this is how things are and was ever thus, even in the world of the imagination.

And that's what I call evil.

War On Tourism: police destroy holiday snaps of London buses.

Paranoid poster at my local bus stop

Did you know it was illegal to photograph British transport? When did that happen?

Two tourists were caught out by the police’s new Fantasy Laws, under which bored Plods can compel you to wipe your camera should you take pictures of London’s iconic landmarks, such as our famous red buses (bring back the Routemaster!), the Tube, and those friendly bobbies on the beat we know and love from Dixon of Dock Green.

Klaus Matzka and his teenage son Loris were lucky they weren’t given a full-cavity search, as happened to Julian Cope at Liverpool Street where he was meeting friends for the G20 protests.

Unsurprisingly, they say it’ll be a cold day in hell before they come back.

Well done, New Labour. Not only do our Amurkin friends laugh at us for having more CCTVs than any other country, our security laws are among the most draconian in the world with one in four government databases being illegal and the European Commission launching an investigation into Britain's surveillance society. And now we declare War on Tourism. Smart.

War On Tourism: police destroy holiday snaps of London buses.

Paranoid poster at my local bus stop

Did you know it was illegal to photograph British transport? When did that happen?

Two tourists were caught out by the police’s new Fantasy Laws, under which bored Plods can compel you to wipe your camera should you take pictures of London’s iconic landmarks, such as our famous red buses (bring back the Routemaster!), the Tube, and those friendly bobbies on the beat we know and love from Dixon of Dock Green.

Klaus Matzka and his teenage son Loris were lucky they weren’t given a full-cavity search, as happened to Julian Cope at Liverpool Street where he was meeting friends for the G20 protests.

Unsurprisingly, they say it’ll be a cold day in hell before they come back.

Well done, New Labour. Not only do our Amurkin friends laugh at us for having more CCTVs than any other country, our security laws are among the most draconian in the world with one in four government databases being illegal and the European Commission launching an investigation into Britain's surveillance society. And now we declare War on Tourism. Smart.

Dead G20 man beaten by police: video contradicts official story

You know the man who died at the recent G20 protests in London? The 47 year old newsagent who wasn’t even part of the demo but was passing by on his way from work? The guy who police said simply collapsed and died of a heart attack as if the excitement dun ‘im in, and whose rescuers were supposed to have been pelted with bottles by the mob?

Well, it turns out the police have been caught lying. Again. Apart from the testimony from several witnesses, there's now video footage acquired by The Guardian of bystander Ian Tomlinson being batoned on the legs and falling to the ground in front of a bunch of cops. He is assisted by another civilian, walks away and then drops dead. There are no missiles being thrown in this location in these moments: the violence is all one-way.

I wonder, as with Harry Stanley, the Hackney man gunned down by the police for carrying a 12-bore coffee-table leg, and with Jean Charles de Menezes, the Brazilian electrician who received no warning before he was shot in the head several times with dum-dum bullets just in case he survived the first shot and the six that followed, if anyone will be held accountable. If they are running true to form, the authorities will do everything they can to blame the protesters and the dead man himself.

"Serious questions have been raised after the watchdog [IPCC] allowed City of London police to launch an inquiry into the death, despite its own officers being involved in the death. ... when a video revealed that Mr Tomlinson had been violently thrown to the ground before suffering a heart attack, a commission investigator asked the newspaper which first broke the story to remove the footage from its website." Read further



So much for democracy and the right to peaceful protest.

Meanwhile, talking about peace, former Prime Minister Tony Blair takes another payoff from interested parties in the Iraq war. First it was millions from JP Morgan, the bank which made more than any other in its capacity as co-ordinator of all the western (mostly US) banks pillaging the country. So much for conflict of interest. Then an Israeli institution — a university — pays him a million dollars. Now the Kuwaitis, old enemies of Iraq, have paid him a seven-figure sum for services rendered.

The ruling class know the game’s up and are looting the western economies with a vigour that is breathtaking to watch. Of course the press remain largely supine, chucking prolefeed at the rest of us in an attempt to distract us from the criminals dismantling our society at the very top.

More at Organised Rage, Harpy Marx, Channel 4 News, Channel 4 News videos, The Guardian

UPDATE: Petition to indict Tony Blair for war crimes

Dead G20 man beaten by police: video contradicts official story

You know the man who died at the recent G20 protests in London? The 47 year old newsagent who wasn’t even part of the demo but was passing by on his way from work? The guy who police said simply collapsed and died of a heart attack as if the excitement dun ‘im in, and whose rescuers were supposed to have been pelted with bottles by the mob?

Well, it turns out the police have been caught lying. Again. Apart from the testimony from several witnesses, there's now video footage acquired by The Guardian of bystander Ian Tomlinson being batoned on the legs and falling to the ground in front of a bunch of cops. He is assisted by another civilian, walks away and then drops dead. There are no missiles being thrown in this location in these moments: the violence is all one-way.

I wonder, as with Harry Stanley, the Hackney man gunned down by the police for carrying a 12-bore coffee-table leg, and with Jean Charles de Menezes, the Brazilian electrician who received no warning before he was shot in the head several times with dum-dum bullets just in case he survived the first shot and the six that followed, if anyone will be held accountable. If they are running true to form, the authorities will do everything they can to blame the protesters and the dead man himself.

"Serious questions have been raised after the watchdog [IPCC] allowed City of London police to launch an inquiry into the death, despite its own officers being involved in the death. ... when a video revealed that Mr Tomlinson had been violently thrown to the ground before suffering a heart attack, a commission investigator asked the newspaper which first broke the story to remove the footage from its website." Read further



So much for democracy and the right to peaceful protest.

Meanwhile, talking about peace, former Prime Minister Tony Blair takes another payoff from interested parties in the Iraq war. First it was millions from JP Morgan, the bank which made more than any other in its capacity as co-ordinator of all the western (mostly US) banks pillaging the country. So much for conflict of interest. Then an Israeli institution — a university — pays him a million dollars. Now the Kuwaitis, old enemies of Iraq, have paid him a seven-figure sum for services rendered.

The ruling class know the game’s up and are looting the western economies with a vigour that is breathtaking to watch. Of course the press remain largely supine, chucking prolefeed at the rest of us in an attempt to distract us from the criminals dismantling our society at the very top.

More at Organised Rage, Harpy Marx, Channel 4 News, Channel 4 News videos, The Guardian

UPDATE: Petition to indict Tony Blair for war crimes

Andy "Lorne" Hallett dies at 33

Angel's favourite demon has died. Andy Hallett wowed Buffyverse fans when he debuted in Angel Season Two as Lorne, the epically camp karaoke-bar-owning demon with the Broadway-musical voice.

We just loved what he did with his character, dahlings. Like James Marsters, who played Spike, Andy brought so much to a minor part that his role as The Host eventually expanded until he established himself as one of Team Angel in more than 70 episodes between 2000 and 2004, eventually winning the supreme accolade of being included in the opening titles and starring in his own story-lines.

Blessed with an amazing soulful voice himself, Lorne (Green, geddit?) was gifted with the ability to read your soul through your singing, leading to some exquisitely comic moments, such as when David Boreanaz as Angel sings what is probably the worst version of "Mandy" you evah heard. (Outtakes here.)

"You don't have to sing. A break for you, a break for me, and a break for Manilow."

"Almost anything that can manifest, in order to move in this dimension, can be killed. Kinda the down side to bein' here. That, and the so-called musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber."

"You know what I'm talking about. In this city, you better learn to get along 'cause L.A.'s got it all, the glamour and the grit, the big breaks and the heartaches, the sweet young lovers and the nasty ugly hairy fiends that suck out your brain through your face. It's all part of the big wacky variety show we call Los Angeles. You never know what's coming next. And let's admit it, folks, isn't that why we love it?"

Watching Lorne cringe while he sipped on his SeaBreeze as his sensitive lugholes were assaulted by an assortment of demons behind the Caritas Club mic on their evening off was a regular delight.

He died in Los Angeles on March 29, aged only 33, of congestive heart failure following a five-year battle with a heart condition. I don’t know how you got your jollies in real life, Andy, but I hope you had fun while it lasted. One of the sweetest and funniest demons ever to grace the World of Whedon. Rest in Peace, sugarbuns.

Andy "Lorne" Hallett dies at 33

Angel's favourite demon has died. Andy Hallett wowed Buffyverse fans when he debuted in Angel Season Two as Lorne, the epically camp karaoke-bar-owning demon with the Broadway-musical voice.

We just loved what he did with his character, dahlings. Like James Marsters, who played Spike, Andy brought so much to a minor part that his role as The Host eventually expanded until he established himself as one of Team Angel in more than 70 episodes between 2000 and 2004, eventually winning the supreme accolade of being included in the opening titles and starring in his own story-lines.

Blessed with an amazing soulful voice himself, Lorne (Green, geddit?) was gifted with the ability to read your soul through your singing, leading to some exquisitely comic moments, such as when David Boreanaz as Angel sings what is probably the worst version of "Mandy" you evah heard. (Outtakes here.)

"You don't have to sing. A break for you, a break for me, and a break for Manilow."

"Almost anything that can manifest, in order to move in this dimension, can be killed. Kinda the down side to bein' here. That, and the so-called musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber."

"You know what I'm talking about. In this city, you better learn to get along 'cause L.A.'s got it all, the glamour and the grit, the big breaks and the heartaches, the sweet young lovers and the nasty ugly hairy fiends that suck out your brain through your face. It's all part of the big wacky variety show we call Los Angeles. You never know what's coming next. And let's admit it, folks, isn't that why we love it?"

Watching Lorne cringe while he sipped on his SeaBreeze as his sensitive lugholes were assaulted by an assortment of demons behind the Caritas Club mic on their evening off was a regular delight.

He died in Los Angeles on March 29, aged only 33, of congestive heart failure following a five-year battle with a heart condition. I don’t know how you got your jollies in real life, Andy, but I hope you had fun while it lasted. One of the sweetest and funniest demons ever to grace the World of Whedon. Rest in Peace, sugarbuns.