I have planted my own tree

Like Helen Lawson, yes, I have planted my tree.

Four in fact.  "Duraheat" birches, at that.  It involved an awful lot of driving around, but we found them halfway to Philadelphia.  But our neighbor the landscape architect was very specific about these trees and their heat tolerance.

These trees are not scrawny trees.  No - these trees are broad trees - trees that have a span.

And to make sure my trees will grow, we cut down SIX other trees including a 100ft tall pin oak (that was the final word from the tree service)  that could have taken our house our the neighbor's house out given the right combination of wind and prolonged rain.  It really threw me into a giant funk, too.  The day it came down I was moody, bitchy, sad, upset and easily aggravated.  It was the universe, exacting its revenge because someone else planted that tree and made it their tree and I ruined that dream and had an eighty-year-old dream cut for firewood.

In the end, these trees are better situated for the lot and in a couple years will give shade and a nice filtered light.  And none of them will grow so big as to kill anyone should the right mixture of water, wind, and rain take them out.

What I really wanted was a weeping willow, but those are illegal in the city and their root systems can go out 100 plus from the base of their trunks in search a water source.

So one is named after Helen Lawson, the other after Neely - they are planted together, by the way - and then the other two are Barbara and Sharon.   Couldn't remember the names of either of the characters in the damned movie.

Now go out there and plant your own tree, and earn your oats while you're at it.

And remember, SPARKLE NEELY, SPARKLE!

ONE LAST THING.  If you are a Maryland Resident and Plant a Tree, You can get cash back from the state!  Go to Maryland's Forestry Division and get your coupon.  Coupons must be presented at the time of sale.

I'm not one to talk, but...

We had a neighborhood cookout last week and the patio was BUZZING with juicy gossip:

ITEM!  Mary Madelon (NOT Madelyn! Dear GOD, never make that mistake!) Somethingorother was out shopping with her teenage daughter and was in a foul mood.  She had a sinus headache was grumpy.  Her daughter found a Massage Envy and bought a thirty-minute neck and shoulders session just to "Help me relax," which is code for "shut her mother up."  When she returned to pick Mary Madelon back up, her mother said that her shoulders felt better, but that her sinuses were still miserable.  Massage Envy's "Shaquilla"  said "You have the sinus?  Why didn't you tell me you had the Sinus?  Come, You should have told me.  Come back to the chair."  She made Mary Madelon sit upright, and then she began in the jaw muscles and then dropped her thumb down behind the jaw, then pressed the thumbs "firmly yet not harshly" up to the top of my neck bone and then down either side of the neck bone."  Evidently, on the first try, Mary Madelon's flesh tingled. On the second attempt, "My sinuses opened up like the red sea and the pain disappeared!" SNAP!  Shaquilla has quite a fan because Mary Madelon does not tolerate quackery or brightly painted front doors on her street!

ITEM!  Gracie and Vickie are looking for a male sperm donor to help them get pregnant.  Gracie's brother has said no, again and Vickie doesn't want to to have a child "fertilized by Gracie's brother," because they have interpersonal "issues."

ITEM!  Cookie and Husband are getting trees removed and then new ones planted.  This makes Mary Madelon unhappy because the pin oak that is coming down is so tall and so beautiful.  Cookie and Husband agree, but the tree is too close to two houses (it really is) and could take out either home in a bad storm.

ITEM!  Dr. Mitch had forgotten how much he liked he liked a glass of good Shiraz!

ITEM!  The hostess, Becky, didn't tell him it came from a box!

ITEM!  The host and hostesses house passes Nan's white glove test, she tells Cookie in sotto voce. Impressive.  Then Cookie goes into the dining room where everyone is trying not to look at the dust cobwebs in the dining room light.  Oopsie.  Looks like host missed this one and so did Nan's White Glove Test!  Double OOPSIES!  Sharmel whispers to Cookie "Why don't people leave this room so I can deal with that when no one is around?"  Sharmel, Becky, and Doug have a good friend in you.  "Has everyone seen whats in the backyard?" Shouts Cookie?  "It's charming, let's go take a look!"

ITEM! While Cookie herds everyone back to the most gorgeous yard in the world, it starts to rain.  Hoping Sharmel had enough time!  She did  But Mary Madelon's keen eye picks it up when she notices that the cobwebs are gone!  Harrumpf, indeed!  Queso, Mary Madelon?

ITEM! Connie in the 400 block is miffed that the city street sweepers aren't following the schedule clearly printed in the city calendar.   They do both sides of the street on the same day!  Solution: Call 311!

ITEM!  Bob has had enough to drink and has called himself an Uber to get him home, which is half a block down.

ITEM!  Houses are selling at a furious pace in the hood - even going before the brokers open.  Multiple offers!  In five years no one has seen anything like this.  Many wonder if now is the time to get out.  And who are these people buying into our neighborhood? 

ITEM! Do not patronize Tetrazzini's.  Carter and Madge had a terrible experience.  "Territa was our waitress and it was like being ignored."

Blind ITEM:  Which neighborhood Chateline STILL hasn't picked on the fact that you can buy anything at this unnamed merchant, but you never, ever, EVAH buy produce from them.  They have carrots older than she is for sale.  No! No! No!

UNSPEAKABLE ACTION:  You there!  In your Tesla Model S sedan. On stopped at the traffic light on Owings Mills Boulevard.  I saw you stick your finger in your ear, dig around, remove your finger and then smell your finger.  Gross.  All the money in the world can get you a great car, but you are still common as a Cold.

Nothing is too small an accomplishment for the Optimist...

Find your joy and successes in life where you can.

Clint Walker

Word has come that big, beefy, hunk-a-licious Clint Walker has died.  At 6'6", Walker was never a top movie star, but he did have his own TV show, Cheyenne during the era of Westerns in the 1950s and 1960s.

His height worked against him.  He was drop-dead handsome, but staging shots between a 5'3" heroine and a 6'6" man required too much fancy work, so he was resigned to doing Westerns, which usually had male heavy casts, and men tend to be taller than women, so there you go.

Walker was 90 according to his daughter. 

Let us remember him the way we would like to remember him, in his prime.

Farewell, you, magnificent beast, you.

The GDPR and DHTiSH

Well, here goes nothing:

I, Cookie, have this bit-o-business that I feel like I should take care.  "Blogger" is of no help, but I feel like I need to do something, so here goes:

On May 25, 2018, the European Union will begin to enforce something called General Data Protection Regulation, and it will impact how and what data is collected and require permissions, compliance, etc.  This is to protect the information gathered about EU residents and permissions granted, blah, blah, blah.

I say "blah, blah, blah" because you can look the rule up online and get lots of information.  Suffice it to say that Doing Hard Time in Shaker Heights does NOT collect, store, analyze or otherwise commit voodoo any information on anyone who visits the blog other than what Google Analytics provides the blog managers in snapshot form, day by day.

Really, Cookie is feeling a bit like Hodor with all of this.

I do not know who comes and visits this blog - unless you leave a comment - other than how many people stop by and look at a particular post.  This is not a business, so I have no interest in who comes here and from what IP.  I do not know what kind of operating system, I do not, to our knowledge deploy cookies to your computer.  "Blogger - a Google entity - may do so, and you have to take that up with them.

I really would like to be compliant, and since I know nothing about our audiences or their preferences and are not privy to such things, that really takes any Cookie out of that loop.

If you find that you have been blocked from the site, contact your National government, or the EU, and give them what-for keeping you from this site.   Shake your fist, no tighter.  Damn them!  That's the spirit.

All kidding aside, though, I really cannot find how this impacts us or you since I have nothing to do with such things.  So while I would love to comply and believe that I would because I can't get to the stuff that this covers.

Wish Cookie all luck, then.  This could be nothing, or it can mean headaches for one or all.

Cheers!

Cookie

I think that I shall not see...

...a site as lovely as our holly trees being ground up into pulp.

Cookie is a tree lover and today is a happy/sad day. 

We are sad because having six trees removed from the property, leaving two.  And then adding four.

We are happy because two of the trees are these scraggly holly trees that have failed to thrive under the manse's previous residents, and after our efforts to feed them and care for them.  But Cookie has a rule - no plants that sting or harm you.  So Eloise and Abelard must go and are being ground up as I type.

We are sad because one of the trees, a pin oak topping out at 90 feet is coming down because of decline, and because it was planted too close to the house and the neighbor's house.  In the last windstorm, I thought it was headed for us as the wind blew from the west and towards them as the storm hooked out to sea and blew from the east.  We are really going to miss that tree.

We are happy because two dying/dead ash trees are going.  The Emerald Ash Borer is slowly munching its way through Maryland and killing every ash tree in the nation as it hops from place to place.  In Ohio, the loss of ash trees has been devastating.  We are talking about one of the greatest plagues to every hit the U.S.  Think Dutch Elm was bad? The larva of the Ash Borer is the Satan of insects.  Their eggs are laid by the mature insect who drills a "D" shaped hole into the bark  When the larva emerges, they chew serpentine tunnels through the layer of the tree that delivers nutrition to the branches.  the trees starve to death.  So, while we hate to lose them, they are infested and the vermin will be burnt to a crisp. One less Ash for them to propagate in.

And we are sad, because the box elder that we thought we had scheduled to be removed is a sugar maple, with another ash tree growing between the two stalks of the sugar maple.  So all three have to go.  That sucks.  And it's an extra $400.

And all of that is on top of the $,$$$ that we are already paying because of the pin oak.  Its so close to the houses that they can't bring the

In the end, though, we are happy.  We have four very large birch trees being held and they will get planted a week from today. They are better suited to our swampy backyards, their branches and leaves will give movement in the breeze, and they provide good hiding spaces for the birds. 

So next week, Cookie will get his Helen Lawson on and plant some trees, not any trees, but my trees.

The Kabuki Theatre of Small Dogs on a Rainy Day

Kevin is not amused. 

I wanted to capture it with the camera, but it was not to be.   Two of the players were not in a mood to be photographed.

We have had almost a solid week of rain.  Morning rains, afternoon storms, evening storms and over night drizzles.  We have had peeks of sun.  Full gutters.  Flooded streets.

In Frederick County, to our west, there have been floods of biblical proportions that have taken out roads and bridges.

Here in Baltimore, we go out to our cars each day and find that torrents of water have flushed down the block crumbling pebbles and small stones from the rotten pavement on the street at the end of our block one day, and the next, the pebbles and stones have bee washed down to the catch basins at the ends of the the street.

And because we are at the low end of a two plan axis of terrain, the water flows through our yard like a raceway on its way to the street.

All this water, of course, poses another issue.

Our dogs hate being in the rain.

Can we blame them? 

Yes, they are animals, but humans can be animal like.  And I don't know a single person who would enjoy being told "Go out there and do your business," while the other human who opened the door and gave the order sips on a cup of Nespresso and waits to let you back in.

We have trained the dogs to go outside on their walks or in the back yard.  Normally, on sunny days the bolt out of the back door with the energy of a thoroughbred horse at Pimlico.  But when it rains, the barometer drops and the small dogs become sluggish and tentative when the back door is opened.

This is when the Kabuki Theatre of Small Dogs on a Rainy Day takes place.

In this production, they are the protagonists, and I, the gate keeper, the antagonist.

In our first act, one of two things happen.

In the first plot development storyline, one of the said dogs will come to me while I sit at my desk working, and work to get my attention from the computer screen to them.  I, ask "What does my (INSERT DOG NAME HERE, which is Either Rocky, or Kevin) need?  Do you need to go out?"

Or inn the second possible scenario, they have heard a sound and want to explore it.  This is indicated by yapping.  Lots and lots of yapping.

The dog (or dogs) will cock their head (Rocky) or start spinning in tight circles (Kevin) indicating that in fact, their needs have been heard, and in the affirmative they want to go out.   We go downstairs.

Act II

Our staging is the back door.  As the curtain rises, we see me at the back door and the dogs at my feet. I open the door.  And we see it is  raining. 

Me: "You guys aren't going to like this."

Rocky: I shall begin jumping to demonstrate my excitement.  I will will begin the jumping to demonstrate his excitement.

Kevin: I will languidly stretch.  My energy level has gone from energetic to lethargic.

I open the door.  Rocky, at high speed bolts from the door and travels about ten feet, and stops, dead in his tracks.

Kevin walks to the threshold and sniffs.   

Kevin:  "I see no need to follow the foolish one outside.   Here I shall plant my feet, here.  Two inside, two out.  I shall make my body heavy. You cannot close the storm door for I am here. Moving me will become a task.  I am a load of lead."

Rocky: "It is wet out here.  Let me survey what I can see. "

Kevin: "He has not found a squirrel, I am going inside."

Rocky: "This is not worth it," he turns and comes back inside.

Act III 

I have closed and lock the door.  I return to the kitchen.  The dogs have not gone out for it is wet.  Yet they expect a cookie.

In unison, they say: "Human who controls the door and the food; we demand tribute.  For it was you who said the word "OUT" and we have complied. Now favor us with a biscuit, but we prefer something chewy and liver like."

Me: "But you have done nothing to receive a merit based reward.  And I told you it was raining."

Dogs: "We understand this, but it is you who demanded our compliance with your outdoor toilet practice.  It is not our fault it is raining.  Feed us treats, or one of us will urinate on the Persian silk rug.  One of us may hop upon your bed and use or claws to make a nest, thus ruining the new blanket."

Me: "True.  And more often than naught, you do go out and perform your toilet."

I remove two Milk Bone biscuits from the box.  Rocky, the Elder, gets first choice, left or right hand.  Never mind they are both the same.  It is his right to choose.

Kevin: Biscuit?  This is not my first choice.  I will not take it in the kitchen, you must follow me, human, to a room far removed from the the dog you call Rocky.

I follow Kevin, first to the dining room, where he pretends to take the cookie, then toddles off to the entry hall, passing Rocky who is gnawing at the rock hard biscuit, then the living room and finally the sun room.  It is here that Kevin decides taking the cookie is acceptable.  Once in his jaws, he retraces his steps to a place to where the other dog is finishing his cookie.  Kevin plops down, right next to his alpha dog and begins to grind his teeth into the tasteless biscuit.  As if to say "Now it is my turn.  Watch and learn."

And thus, we find that no progress has been made, only customs have been followed.  And in this, our drama is done.

FIN

Normally, the Kabuki Theatre Small Dogs on a Rainy Day, plays about four performances if the entire day is rainy.  The outcome is always the same.

Now if you say W-A-L-K, and it is pouring, they are all in.  No drama.  They are more than willing to get wet.

Why? Because that means you too, the Human holding the leash is getting wet, and they are only too happy to see you in your misery.  This, we call the Kabuki Theatre of Walking the Dogs on a Rainy Day. 

And it is always played at an outdoor venue.

New Computer, UGHS!

Remember when you thought no one would ever need more than 10mb?
It sucks getting this old, dude!

Cookie has come to the realization that it is most likely the time that money should be invested into another computer, and is here to state that he dreads this process.

The current computer was built way back in 2010 and, if it was a person, be wrapping up second grade.   But when I designed it - yes, Cookie does hardware - that I overbuilt the computer because I wanted to end the cycle of a new piece of junk every couple years.

So I have been shopping and I am shocked - SHOCKED I SAY - not at the new processor speeds - which are amazing, but to discover that desktops are now more expensive than comparable laptops!

For what I do, a laptop is a nice thing to have when I travel, it is not practical in the home office.

My head was literally SPINNING in MicroCenter.  Cookie only buys from a MicroCenter.  You can't beat the deals they have.   Well, you could, but if something goes wrong, you have to ship it someplace for warranty work.  Microcenter does it all.

Buying the beast isn't the bad part.  The bad part is moving everything over and replacing the programs you lose.

UGHS!

Why Aunt Wanda...

...whatever are you doing up there? You better hope that there are no sudden stops.

Commencment at Emerald City High School

I would like to take this momentously grand and special occasion to to thank our School Board, teachers, and families for being here, today, on the occasion of the 137th graduating class from Emerald City High School.  As the Valedictorian of this class, I have been asked to say a few words.  You don’t want a long and drawn out journey, down memory lane, because our future is before us.

During our time at good old ECHS – Go WIZARDS! YES! ALL RIGHT! – our classes have taught us a great deal about life inside the Emerald City, and life in faraway places, Like Munchkinland and the and amongst the Quadlings.  We have learned how to “Rub Rub Here” and “Scrub Scrub There,” in the applied arts, how to drive carriages, and how to dye shoes to match ones gown – especially if it’s in a shade a green.

But we have also learned lessons from places so far away that they have names like “Omaha” and “Kansas.”

But out of all these lessons, there are some truths I have discovered that are universal that I would like to share.

The first of these is that everything is not Emerald green.  Emerald green is an aspirational color, but it is not the only color we should reach for.  There is blue and there is yellow and when you meld them, they make green.  But you can adapt that green by peppering in a bit of blue here, and perhaps an additional daub of extra yellow to make “Teal” and even “Lime”.  From that, we can learn never to settle for just plain seafoam green.

The second lesson is that we never know what journey someone has taken to get here.  Some people take the Yellow Brick Road.  Others can literally drop in on us without a moment’s notice.   A friend may come to you, self-absorbed in her own bubble.  And we welcome them and help come out of their own little world. 

The third lesson is sometimes,  there are those who may come into your life on a smoke-belching broom, which can cloud the sky.  Yes, it’s messy, sooty and befouls the air, we have to remember that “hurt people hurt people.”  Be kind.  Someone could have taken of value from them, or worse removed something from the corpse of their sister. Be kind but be smart.  Always be at the ready with a bucket of cold water at the handy if things go awry.

The fourth lesson is that somewhere along the road to our destiny, we will meet people who will do anything for us, even if it means getting the stuffing knocked out of them.

The fifth lesson is that if there is a curtain, we need to look behind it, especially when someone says “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.”  Surely that man is back there for a reason, for no one stands behind a curtain without cause.  Expose him and demand to know why he is behind that curtain!

The sixth lesson is that you must not enter into a field of poppies.  When someone directs you through the poppies, just say “NO!”  Because once you frolic through a field of poppies, you'll keep needing to find bigger and bigger fields of poppies.  And from there, it's a hop skip and a jump before you start seeing flying monkeys everywhere.  Just remember, "NO!" and you'll never have that flying monkey on your back.

The seventh lesson is that when someone wants to give you a pair of ruby slippers, ask yourself, is anything in life worth anything, free?

The eighth lesson is to find something that you are really good at and go for it.  If chopping wood is your passion, don't make a suit out of tin, but chose a miracle fabric that shed water.  If you want to live as a cowardly lion, excel at sniveling. If you want to be a scarecrow, well, learn to dance. Dance? Yes, dance.  Because at some point, we all have to be able to dance, and dance like no one else is looking because that is what makes life sweet. 

The ninth lesson is to plan.  OZ has one of the greatest longevity rates in the land, but at some point, you'll want to set sail in a balloon, into the sunset, for a faraway land.  So learning to plan and navigate is really important or you could end up in a place called Elizabeth, New Jersey or worse, Steubenville in something called Ohio. 

But most importantly, the tenth lesson is that we must realize that our lives are our own.  Our obligation is to stay fixated on our day to day lives and to cast uninvited strangers in this land upon their own journey lest anything happen to us.  Lead a teenager throughout their entire adolescence and they will need to be led for the rest of their life.  Teach them to walk on their own two feet, and they will be able to outrun flying monkeys on their own.

That is the way of OZ. 

If they find their way back and haven't been turned into a newt, well maybe then, we can tell them that all along they had the ability to be the best version of themselves all along.  But that only through their own heart’s desire will they find the way back home.  Thank you.

Make my stuff, your stuff

Well, we have survived another annual garage sale.  Thankfully, the COMMITTEE that handles this annual event held it this past weekend instead of the hottest weekend of the summer as they have in the past.  And reader, we sold a shitload of stuff.  But DEAR GOD, a 7 A.M. start date?

As in the past, we had the regular players, but new people came along, too:

7:05 A.M.
LEGO MAN, "Do you have any Lego?"
Cookie: "No."
LEGO MAN: "I can wait here while you look.  Be sure to check in the back of the closets."
Cookie: "You know, I understand that a sale in the 600 block of W. Joppa Rd.* is clearing out the toys that a collector has socked away for years.  Another man looking for Lego's said the was heading over there when they open at 9."
LEGO MAN: "Thanks for the tip.

9:15 A.M.
Mid Century Modern Man: "What table has you mid-century modern items?
Cookie: "Those sold completely out before we even opened."**
MCMM: "Who starts a neighborhood yard sale at 7 A.M.?"
Cookie: "People who have things to do by noon."
NOTE: This guy shows up in classic Volvo wagon, and always looks like an L.L. Bean threw up on him.  But he smells of canine cologne and as if he spent the night sleeping in a dirty ashtray.

9:30 A.M.
Vintage Camera Man: "You got any vintage cameras?"
Cookie: "Well as you see we are down to a "Take and Tinker" Snowthrower, some CD's, some decorating trinkets, a lawnmower, and some other stuff that nobody wants."
VCM: "So you don't have any vintage camera equipment?"
Cookie: "Guess not."
VCM: "Well I am looking for vintage camera equipment."
Cookie: "Have you looked at other sales?"
VCM: "I'm looking around.  You're sure you don't have any inside?"
Cookie: "I'm pretty sure I am not going to check inside for something that isn't there."***

10:05 A.M.
Vintage Playboy Man: "Where are your vintage Playboys from the 1950s?"
Cookie: "I'm a child of the 1960s and I have no idea where my father kept his stash back then."

10:07 A.M.
Snoopy woman: "I think it vile that he's looking for pornography at a community yard sale."
Cookie: "That reminds me we must have 300 pounds of vintage gay porn from the 1980s in the basement to bring up..."

But the kick in the balls moment came at around 10:45 when we were down to some unloved CD's, some brass trinkets that belonged to my late stepfather, and some DVD compilations that a neighbor begged us to see for her.  The husband is shuffling things around and getting ready for the 11 A.M. close when a young woman and her son come down the street.

Child: "Mommy, whats in this box?"
Mommy: "It's a game called "Trivial Pursuit"
Child: "What's that?"
Mommy: "It's a game that people like your great grandma used to like to play back in the olden days."****

ANYHOW, here is Cookie's way of getting ready for a yard sale, and it starts the year BEFORE the next yard sale.

What you need is to go to Target and buy about three to six green (or purple, or red, or blue) storage tubs.

Throw preprinted price stickers into each bin.  As the year progresses, when you come across something that doesn't tickle fancy, price it, and put it in the bin. 

Once it goes in the bin, it doesn't come out of the bin until the Yard Sale.

Bin full up, pull out another, repeat.

On yard sale day, All you need to do is set up the tables and carry out the bins and set it up.


* I made that address up. Every year we go through this with this twit, so I had to get rid of him.
**I would never put anything MCM in a yard sale.
*** In my mind was "Would you please get your head out of your ass because I have said no like four different ways."
**** Oh. You. NASTY. Snatch!  Fuck you, Mommy.

I'm not one to talk, but...

ITEM:  It is hot as FUCK today in Bawlimore.  In the sun it feels dreadfully intense and hot.  Two weeks ago, it was cold as fuck.  But the thermometer to left says 111°; weather(dot)com says 92.

ITEM: Houses have been coming on the market in the hood, and they are in contract before the Brokers Open.  Which is strange and weird because they are going into bidding war scenarios, and this Baltimore, not some town in Silicon Valley.

ITEM: One house isn't selling.   It's overpriced and needs a lot of work.  Take the hint, you don't move property based on statements like "We got most of the rats out of the garage," savvy?

ITEM: The hardware store down the street SUCKS.

ITEM: Enquiring minds want to know if this Saturday is a washout for the community yard sale?  And if so, is Sunday going to be any better?

ITEM: I can't stand that one cashier at the grocery store.  Which one?  The one who sounds like an uneducated Edith Bunker is LOUD when you go through her line.

ITEM: To the woman who smokes cigarettes and throws them half smoked into the local playground, Crossing Guard Mary's got your number, Sweetheart.

ITEM: Cookie sees impossible options and no-win scenarios in the month of June when The Middle fades into its final season of reruns.  What if Sue doesn't get the guy?

ITEM: The new Roseanne show is not a normalization of Drumphs America.  It's actually a pretty damn accurate account of family life in West Virginia.

ITEM: Who is that black child, Mary, on Roseanne? Yes, we know its a TV grandchild, but why hasn't her story been explored?

ITEM: A neighbor reported that her purse, laptop, and cell phone were stolen from her locked (wink, wink) car in her driveway the other night.  I think someone either doesn't have a lick of common sense or wanted that crap stolen so they could get new stuff courtesy of the insurance company.

ITEM: To the salesperson at the cookware store, yes, I understand that leCruiset doesn't go on sale often, but when I want a 5qt flame orange dutch oven that you have to special order, I do not want a red dutch oven shaped like a heart because you have it at 30% off.  No matter what the markdown is, it's not my style and not worth it.

Blind Item: You know who you are and we saw what you did.  Pervert.