Batman: TAS: episode #40: Heart of Steel, part 2

At this point, it's worth questioning what ended up making the cut for two episodes on a story. The other two that we've seen were about the origins of Robin, Catwoman, and, of course, Two-Face; all of them massive figures in the mythos. (And how could you not do a two-parter about Two-Face?) But this one, about a relatively forgettable enemy in the form of the computer HARDAC, also got that treatment. Director Kevin Altieri mentioned that the original script for this story was even longer than a two-parter and they ended up cutting significant segments of it, both entire scenes and the detail in the included scenes, because of the budget and time that the animation studio had in order to do the work. That would come into play in a different sense, as well, when Altieri mentioned in the commentary that the original script had called for the final fight sequence to take place outside and he wanted a more "intimate" scene that would be more contained and what he felt suited the nature of the story (hi-tech, impersonation, etc.) The Batman's ability to escape the cliffhanger trap of part 1 (the claws that hold his glider) makes sense because, again, the device was just intended to hold a glider, not a 200+ pound man. The very presence of the claws was also just a nod back to the basic theme of the story in the first place (robots vs humans.) In that respect, it made sense for it not to be a relatively useless deathtrap like we see in the joke scene of Galaxy Quest or something equally unreasonable and that, too, is smart storytelling. Alfred also delivers the line of the episode: "I do wish your toys wouldn't play so roughly with you, sir!"

But this episode, just like the first one, still carries a lot of elements of famous science fiction productions. The staring, red eye of HARDAC is wholly reminiscent of that of HAL-9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, even if HARDAC's blinks when he speaks, unlike the ominous steady glow of HAL. He also mentions the "human frailties" that "threaten the plan", which is the whole focus of HAL's presence in that film. Likewise, Altieri and Bruce Timm mentioned that Karl Rossum was named after Guido van Rossum, the creator of PYTHON, so there are all kinds of little references throughout. Another one is Randa Duane resembling Marilyn Monroe, as they tried to stay in theme with the times as technology of the more mundane story (cars, etc.) are presented as a 1930s-era depiction throughout the series, so even the hi-tech stuff tends to stay that way, too (HARDAC taking up much of a warehouse, as the original ENIAC did, as well.) Interestingly, Altieri mentions that the spider-like activity of the "duplicants" when they begin battling The Batman was inspired by a character from Legend of the Overfiend, which is a fairly niche (and pornographic) corner of the animation world. That follows in form with another apparent SF reference, which is the glowing, red eyes of the robots; not with a lens sheen like HARDAC's, but more diode-appearing as was the case with the antagonist of The Terminator.

But one of the best moments of the episode is something that Altieri and Timm said they tried to avoid: the appearance of the Batsignal. All we see is the symbol on the clouds, no sound, no music. Just the light. It felt iconic to me but they had said they wanted to avoid it, perhaps because they thought it made him too familiar and less of the mysterious Dark Knight that they wanted to portray. (The menace from the shadows doesn't respond to a searchlight-!) The continuation of the scene is the appearance of Harvey Bullock's "duplicant" who then begins to literally toss The Batman around the rooftop. But it still looks and sounds like Bullock, so when Barbara Gordon assists our hero in tossing Bullock into the Batsignal, where he's electrocuted and "dies", it's a moment of surprise for the viewer, because the characters have to know that what they're doing is likely lethal if this somehow is Bullock. Barbara even tears up before the skin covering falls away and the robot falls apart. It's quite a (ahem) shocking moment that they somehow got past Standards & Practices (Altieri said that once the review board knew they were robots, they could be as violent as they wanted. And they were.) There's also a great moment at the end where our hero delivers the line: "Please let go of my cape." as Barbara attempts to extract a promise from him about finding her father. This, of course, only makes me think of The Watchmen and, of course, The Incredibles.

Speaking of Barbara, she has an interesting role in this one, since all of us older fans know that she's Batgirl from the comics, but in this instance they take the time to show her own initiative and intelligence and round her out as her own person, minus the costume (and the cape!) There's also an interesting choice of perspective switch when she's being followed by the robot trashcan in Rossum/HARDAC's lair and is captured by "duplicants." At that moment, instead of switching to the narrator's overhead view of events, we instead see them from the perspective of the robot, which has switched back to its trashcan role. In most other episodes, we would've stuck with the "reader of the comic page" view, rather than dropping to that of a nameless extra character. In the end, the massive fight scene ends in one of the more explosive conclusions, with everything being destroyed and/or burning to the ground (S&P said we could-!) and Rossum suggesting that it was all the AIs fault and the mayor, having been kidnapped and held in a hibernation tank, happily agreeing with him because he apparently did it "for the children" (his deceased daughter.) That's the departure from much of standard SF, where the inventor is held responsible for his creations.

Batman: TAS: episode #39: Heart of Steel, part I

One of the hallmarks of the series was, as noted, the animation style that not only preserved the image of roughly 1920s Gotham, but was also elaborate enough to fully demonstrate modern storytelling. It's that "modern storytelling" angle that is key in Heart of Steel, part I, as the plot is centered around the concepts of artificial intelligence and robotic minions; scions of science fiction for decades, but enjoying a new lease on life in the early 90s as computers became ever faster and more powerful. In fact, this story borrowed heavily from the film that explored a new angle on the robots concept, which was Blade Runner. Initially rejected for what many saw as its complex story when first released in 1982, by the time this episode aired, a decade later, it had gained a significant following precisely because of its complexity and the questions it dared to ask; much like Batman: The Animated Series in its approach to its central figure. This borrowing from the film was further emphasized by one of this episode's lead characters, Karl Rossum, being not only based on J. F,. Sebastian, the introverted designer from Blade Runner, but voiced by the same William Sanderson, who played the role in the film.

Indeed, there's all kinds of technology, new and old, present in the first few minutes of this episode, with the briefcase robot conducting a planned heist, only to be pursued by our hero with the conveniently stashed Bat-glider on the top of Wayne Enterprises. We haven't come across many of the Bat-devices in the episodes we've covered so far. Many of them are associated with the goofier, adventurer version of the character from the 50s, but this one was a decent addition to the story. Speaking of early 80s films, the briefcase itself, with its tentacled feet, was an easy reminder of one of the more famous scenes from John Carpenter's The Thing. Bruce also refers to the project that is being stolen as not just AI, but also "wetware", which was normally only applied to biological entities with enhancements and not the silicon chips mentioned here, which makes me wonder if the writer (Brynne Stephens) either got her buzzwords mixed up or was encouraged to use them, regardless of plot, by the producers. It was around this same time that one of the more famous comic companies of the era, Image, emerged with two announced titles that slotted right into the SF of the era and this story in Wetworks and Cyber Force (akin to Rossum's company, Cybertron Industries) so, it was going around.

In terms of pure storytelling, it was amusing to see the cyber-briefcase react in the same way regular human criminals did to the appearance of The Batman, by immediately fleeing. It may have been artificial, but it was genuinely intelligent. Also, some more of the human elements to the cast and background of The Batman were present, with an appearance by Barbara Gordon, home from college, and her dad, Jim Gordon, and his attachment to Wubbie, her teddy bear. That's the most emotion that Jim Gordon has shown in the series that wasn't either anger or fear. Similarly, Alfred became more than just background humor, as he was directly involved in the action against the intruder in Wayne Manor. At this stage, the character was still the genteel and rather prim and proper person that most people associate with the comics and a far cry from the more exciting version that would appear in later years in productions like Gotham. That said, it was still encouraging to see him directly participate in the crises that follow his employer around.

But despite the human angle, the episode also stuck pretty closely to the artificial, as it were. The mastermind AI ends up fashioning "duplicants", just like Blade Runner's "replicants." Again, this was an obvious homage, given the presence of Sanderson, but it's a pretty fine line between referencing and following themes to just outright swiping and copying material. Sincerest form of flattery and all that, but there's a limit. That follows with the extremely elaborate and automated clawed rack for the Bat-glider which is foreshadowed to be the threat the episode's cliffhanger ends on when the AI takes over the Batcave's computer. There's enough meat here to comprise the two-episode storyline, but not without some rather glaring missteps, such as the laser security barrier that the briefcase simply slides under and which any human could have simply stepped over to get to the lab where the chips are held. Similarly, on a technical level, it was kind of jarring to see that the first few seconds of animation weren't the standard for the series which the episode reverts to after that point. The opening moments in the lobby are choppy and grainy and everyone in said lobby is moving in sync, as if there were simply fewer frames in it when originally produced. Studio accident or perhaps a hurried reshoot? Hard to tell. Regardless, part II will be next.

Batman TAS: episode #38: Cat Scratch Fever

We've finally returned to the intended "Next issue-!" point from three-and-a-half years ago and it's almost extra appropriate, since the Catwoman episodes are always ones that seem like they're intentionally part of the larger picture, unlike things like See No Evil or even The Laughing Fish. Those latter two are or could be one-offs, without character development that is the essence of the relationship between Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle and, in turn, The Batman and Catwoman. That personal connection is what makes episodes like Cat Scratch Fever stand out in the long view. Not only do we begin with Selina being charged for the crimes she committed in The Cat and the Claw, but we have references to their changing circumstances made by Maven, Alfred, and Bruce. Indeed, Alfred even suggests that Bruce should start dating a known criminal, even if she is one, as the judge states in the opening scene, who committed crimes for a just cause. Of course, that also highlights the real world problem with America's two-tiered justice system, in that a wealthy, White woman had 25 years in prison changed to 5 years of probation. That's something that wouldn't have happened to anyone a) poorer and b) darker. Of course, that's a theme that's very much outside the realm of what Timm and Co. were aiming for, but it's a context that can easily be laid over this episode, in a similar vein to the radio broadcast talking about "record lows" in temperature, which is no longer the case in our world.

We also see the return of Daggett Industries, which we first saw in Feat of Clay and is now even more of a menace to the general public. This was the replacement for the goofy Shreck Corporation of Batman Returns, in which a huge department store was a threat to the public, whereas Daggett is at least an experimental lab and chemical company that makes destructive substances for profit. In that way, the series was trying to draw a line between the visual style that they had borrowed from Tim Burton's films and its often absurdist approach to the mythos and setting. Similarly, Selina clearly drew a line between her two identities when it came the aforementioned relationship. Bruce was firmly placed in the "friend zone", while Catwoman feels free to make a pass at The Batman whenever the opportunity presents. It's a similar approach to the line that Bruce clearly draws when Alfred's suggestion about a date is rebuffed. In his eyes, Bruce Wayne is one thing and The Batman is something else entirely; an opinion that Selina clearly shares. The statement is made that "You won't see Selina Kyle anywhere near Daggett Labs" before Catwoman makes an appearance at the Labs in the very next scene. It's a compartmentalization that is similar, but rooted in very different origins, as Bruce's comes from trauma and Selina's from a desire to help things that can't help themselves. At the same time, they're quite similar, as both are pursuing justice outside the law, but one is willing to overtly commit crimes in order to do it, while the other is more adept at toeing the line where necessary.

Speaking of visual style, they stuck with the imagery of Batman Returns and the Michelle Pfeiffer appearance, which is also reminiscent of Julie Newmar from the 60s TV series. Of course, the most famous version in the comics is the 1970s brunette, drawn by artists like Irv Novick and Ross Andru, usually with Dick Giordano's inks. And, interestingly, despite Frank Miller's Return of the Dark Knight having been the inspiration for Burton's films and, subsequently, the Animated Series, they avoided the short-haired street criminal approach that Miller presented in Batman: Year One and which later became the dominant motif (regardless of hair color or style) in presentations like Gotham. It's a nod to just how many interpretations of the main character and his surrounding cast can be made and still carry the essential identity of what the story. That's a character and a concept with depth, which is why he's been the most enduring and popular of DC's creations (and, of course, not being a demigod, even if he is a billionaire, super martial artist, and genius detective.) In the one questionable editing moment, he's such a genius that he somehow retrieves his cape from where he left it miles away at the Labs when he finally delivers the virus antidote to Selina. Speaking of the virus, which is a central element of the plot, I had a brief thought that this was essentially the plot of 28 Days Later, although the latter was interested in long-term profits via weapon sales, whereas Daggett is interested in short-term extortion. Some criminals are smarter than others, which is a good ending note for a piece about Catwoman. Next time, Heart of Steel.

Comforting in its relatability

I don't really seek out Jesse Eisenberg films. Despite his legions of fans, most notably for his starring turn in The Social Network (a film which, despite my affection for David Fincher's work, I found fairly boring), I've always that he was a bit too typecast for my taste. Most of his roles play up the nerdy, insecure guy and, as soon as you see him, you know that's what you're going to get, which tends to make a lot of what goes on around him equally predictable. Of course, that sense of reliability also creates a sense of relatability, since his most frequent character is a reflection of any number of introverts that we all know in our lives in various fashions. But A Real Pain, which he wrote, directed, and starred in as that same, nerdy, insecure guy and despite being obvious in some respects, actually turned out to be a step above the comfort food level of many of his other films. He was doing his same, old thing, but combining that with the absolute explosion that is Kieran Culkin made for a story that had multiple levels of insight on their characters and relationships, in general, which is always a positive outcome in my book.

The story is not particularly original, since it's something that many people have done and still seek to do throughout the ages: come face to face with their or their family's place of origin. Eisenberg and Culkin play two cousins who visit Poland to see their ancestral homeland and the home of their grandmother who survived the camps of World War II. On a guided tour with a few other people (among them Jennifer Grey), they subject all of them to Benji's (Culkin) emotionally overwrought behavior combined with brutal honesty and David's (Eisenberg) attempts to make up for his cousin's confrontational attitude to them, their tour guide (Will Sharpe, most recently seen in the second season of The White Lotus), and the surrounding locals. The title, at this point, becomes pointed, not only because it's the obvious joke, but also because Culkin, just as he so often did in the brilliant Succession, tends to overwhelm the atmosphere of any scene that he's in. If the story was intended to have deeper meaning, his antics completely wipe out that possibility for a decent chunk of the film. The highlight is the scene of the two cousins jumping a train back to Lublin to return to their tour after David fell asleep and Benji, despite being aware that they missed their stop, deciding that he was sleeping too peacefully to disturb him. Priorities are in question throughout the film but usually to highlight the willingness to engage life that is Benji's character. And that's where things begin to turn.

Despite Benji being on a rampage for much of the first half of the film, the deft turns taken by Eisenberg as actor, writer, and director steer us back to the central message which is the emotional awareness of not just the amount of tragic history that still cloaks the area, but the very personal struggles that arise from confronting that history and which both Benji and David are carrying with them; not just about their recently-deceased grandmother, but about their roles in this life and what meaning they may have to both of them. In some ways, it's still a comfortable and, thus, predictable message, but it's delivered with enough humor (the absolute mundanity of finding their grandmother's home, only to be accosted by the neighbors on a very pragmatic level) and insight to see the grander picture that those underlying themes touch upon. And this is to say nothing of the timeliness, given that the incoming government of the US seems intent on returning us to the era of mass internment camps and all of the potential horrors that go with them. The most poignant moment of the emotional parade that is this story may be the final scene, watching Benji sitting in the airport by himself, still considering just what everything means and where he fits into it all. Been there.

So, yes, despite Eisenberg doing the thing again and despite the overall plot not being anything mindblowing, I think there's enough texture here to recommend this film; not least for Culkin's performance, but also for the writing that led him there and Eisenberg's capable direction to keep us aware of all of the levels on which his story works. Not a masterpiece, but a really solid step forward.

Where I can't feel anything for a bunch of emotionless people

Last night was another of those moments when I'm beginning to feel firmly detached from modern cinema and especially modern cinema criticism because I can't for the life of me understand what was so compelling about the film we saw that would have critics raving about it, not least because it won the Palm d'Or at Cannes. That film is Anora. It's another Sean Baker production and I agreed to see it for precisely that reason. It's described as a "romantic comedy", which is normally something that I would avoid like it was on fire because most of them are awful. But Baker has a lot of credit in the bank with me because of two previous films: The Florida Project and Red Rocket. The former is a great example of the chasm in understanding between the privileged few and the underserved many in our nation. It's a story with pathos and one that most decent humans could feel sympathy for, in the same way that we watch Willem Dafoe make his own life more difficult in the name of making his tenants' a tiny bit easier. The latter is one of the best things we've ever seen at the Michigan/State theaters. It's a fantastic example of overweening ambition and the obvious impending failure that it leads to (reach exceeds thy grasp or thy Johnson, as the case may be.) Both of those films are replete with examples of genuinely human characters and their genuinely human circumstances and reactions to same. As many have said about Shakespeare: characters will drive your stories and make them last. Both of those stories have that. Anora... does not.

We're presented with a situation that is a young woman's (Mikey Madison) fairly successful stripping/escort career, since she lives in a comfortable home with her sister in Brighton Beach and works at what is implied as an upscale club, probably somewhere in the Lower East Side. She meets an incredibly wealthy young Russian ne'er-do-well (Mark Eydelshteyn) whom she entrances and then convinces to pay her a substantial fee to hang out with him as his "girlfriend" for a week. So far, everything is paved with gold here. But then his family finds out and their servants here in the States come to disrupt this Shangri-La, which is where our story veers from Pretty Woman to Uncut Gems. Anyone who remembers my review of the latter film will recall that I found it to be both tedious and obnoxious, which is a morbidly impressive combination. So our story of the stripper whose life is already pretty cozy and only gets better throughout the first act is suddenly turned into a 25-minute-long home invasion scene where everyone is screaming at each other and, just like with Uncut Gems, is basically being a collection of obnoxious New Yorkers failing to communicate. Just as with that film, I have no concept of how this can be entertaining to anyone. What's worse is that none of the characters involved are even remotely interesting. They're not human. They're ciphers. Pretty Woman is usually discarded as fluff because it is, failing to even approach the reality of working women in LA. Same thing here. What would make me feel sympathy for Ani's situation or person when we don't see her even stepping up from the level of hiding the rent in the toilet tank before dating the millionaire? The worst crisis she encounters before the family servants come barging in is being woken up early by her sister. It never feels like she's latching on to that one thing she's been waiting for and is then traumatized by having it swept away from her. Instead, we've basically watched her just take advantage of the situation (as most would do) and not be too troubled by any of it.

In truth, the only genuinely interesting character in the whole film is Igor (Yura Borisov), one of those thugs who breaks in to disrupt her moment with the wayward Russian heir. What makes him interesting is that we simply watch his face for the entire invasion scene, largely agog at what's happening around him and clearly not quite understanding why he's there in the first place. I really enjoyed Borisov in Compartment No. 6 and was happy to see him again, being just as effective in this role as he was as Lyokha on the train. As the one person not being bombastic but merely trying to survive the ride, he struck me as the one person reacting like most people would in that situation. In other words, as I will say again and again in all of my criticism, he was human. And acting human while everyone else was chewing scenery. He maintains that humanity even as things take a sharp turn into sentimentality in act 3. This would be the point where said sentiment is supposed to engender sympathy from the average American moviegoer. But Baker's films have never been about that, so I don't suspect that that was his intention. But the problem is that, even if it was, none of these characters, including Ani, had done anything throughout this story to generate that sympathy. Everything kind of slid off of her and so she kind of slid off of us, pants on or not. By the end of the film, we still don't really know who she is other than perhaps a vague sensation that she's been brazening her way through most of her life and this was the one time she couldn't call the shots? If that's all you have in terms of character development, then we are a long way from earlier examples of Baker's work.

And, yet, critics are raving about it (97% on RT; the Palm d'Or(!)) and all I can ask is: What am I missing? I look at this film and think of my usual later-Ridley Scott criticism: It's more spectacle than story. I mean, was the Cannes crowd just thrilled that the American submission wasn't another damn Marvel movie?

Batman TAS: episode #37: The Laughing Fish

The Laughing Fish is the greatest Joker story ever told, full stop. That story was written by Steve Englehart on his run in Detective Comics from #469-476 with Marshall Rogers on art duties; arguably the greatest run on the character in its 95-year history. So much of that eight-issue sequence has seeped into the character's essential fiber that its remarkable that Englehart's name isn't more widely-known. Of course, part of why it's not is simply the way Hollywood and TV function, which is highlighted in this specific case. When you see the credits for this episode, you'll see that it's "Written by Paul Dini." Of course, the story is Englehart's and they even use segments of the dialogue ("Jokerburgers!") from Englehart's story. I pointed that out to him when I ran into him at a comic show about a year after the episode aired. He nodded and said that he had been paid a substantial "service payment" in lieu of a credit. Since he was under a work-for-hire contract when he'd written the story, like the vast majority of comic writers and artists of that time, he probably didn't have much choice. Just the same, it still rankles me every time I think about it.

Thankfully, Dini not only used the dialogue but stuck to the main elements of Englehart's story, as well. In the years since The Batman had returned to being the Darknight Detective, rather than "good ol' Batman", the Joker had still lagged behind the change in tone. He was still the Clown Prince of Crime, with the emphasis on the "clown" part. A bit more serious and threatening, but still more bizarre than he was dangerous. Englehart changed all that. In The Laughing Fish, The Joker is a homicidal maniac whose actions can't be predicted, making him terrifying to anyone and everyone. Dini kept that perspective, using the laughing gas made of Jokervenom that the character would then use forever after, in which victims are killed and die with a rictus grin on their face, reminiscent of the villain himself. 

As BTAS was still aimed primarily at children, Dini couldn't show The Joker's intended victims actually dying (Batman would rescue them and be rescued himself with last-second antivenom doses), but it was still easily the most eerie of situations in the series' history. The character is also at his most menacing, as he regularly threatens the copyright official (G. Carl Francis; played by George Dzundza) with death, which isn't something that regularly happens in the series, other than the usual threats to our hero. The presence of Harley Quinn does spoil the presentation a bit, as she's an intentionally goofy character who doesn't mesh very well with this more menacing version of The Joker.

This is also one of the episodes where Harvey Bullock (most frequently played by Robert Costanzo) functions less like a corrupt buffoon and more like an actual hard-boiled cop who doesn't want to be upstaged by the guy in the bat costume. It's Harvey, of course, who first finds The Joker's hideout and tried to finish the job of apprehending the villain. It's a story that's more grounded in the noirish elements that the series was rooted in than the previous episodes. Since it also features The Batman's greatest opponent, it's hard to look at this as anything but among the very best three or four episodes ever produced, even if the plot itself is relatively straightforward in a "villain of the week" style that has often made superhero comics even more formulaic than they typically are.

Those noirish elements persist right through the conclusion, with the villain disappearing under the water, The Batman doubting that he's actually gone, and the shark devouring the floating card as the dénouement. This is what the series should have been even more often and it's necessary to see it to really understand how great Timm and Dini's (and Englehart's!) efforts were. My one complaint is the title card. It was a departure from the neo-Gothic art style used in most of the rest (until season 4) which were mini-representations of the episode that resembled 1930s movie posters. Instead, this one had a very simple font and no real character at all, which is disappointing.

Dystopia; or briefly The Thing That Describes a Lot of My Mindset About the World

Jeff Donaldson and I were the main figures in a comic studio that Jeff started almost 34 years ago. The studio ran for almost the entire decade of the 90s before economic factors (lack of distribution, lack of money) shut us down. A few months back, Jeff told me that he'd started drawing again with a new program and wondered if I was interested in digging up some of the old material that I'd created for said studio- Fifth Panel Comics -and seeing if we could produce it as a Webcomic. I signed on and here we are:

https://www.dystopia.ink/

Dystopia is a multi-genre setting somewhere in middle America that was basically a way for me to introduce a lot of concepts that I hadn't found a home for, as well as a way for everyone involved in the studio at the time (somewhere in the range of a dozen people, but really a half-dozen "regulars") to collaborate on the same project, if they chose to do so. I explain a lot of this here: https://www.dystopia.ink/2024/04/20/the-origin-story/ which is the almost-first post on the News page of the site. At the moment, when you go to the News page, you'll see the most recent post, but then have to scroll down to see the older ones. I'll figure out how to rework that at some point. Anyway, all of the posts on the News site describe the basic background of the setting, how we wanted to implement it, and what the idea is for the future. The comics, OTOH, are here:

https://www.dystopia.ink/comic/

When you first arrive on the site, you'll automatically see the last page that Jeff has completed and can use the controls to shift to the beginning or to previous (and subsequent) pages and so forth. At the moment, we're beginning with a story based on The Rim, the top level of the city (Into Darkness), but we'll be moving around from there. Jeff is hoping to maintain a schedule of a page a week as we move forward. Meanwhile, I'll be posting more stuff on the blog page (News) and, for those so inclined, we've set up a Discord (linked on the Home page) and will be hoping to hear/see as much feedback as possible; not just on places like Facebook, but the site itself.

If you know anyone who likes comics, Webcomics, SF, horror, cyberpunk, or anything even vaguely related, PLEASE feel free to send them the link to the site. The most gratifying thing for me as a writer has always been for as many people as possible to read it and see if they get something out of it. Quite literally, the more the merrier, yo. Thanks and I hope (at least some of you) enjoy.