Life Is Fleeting

Just two more Sundays to go in Trinity, including today. then four weeks of Advent. Then, Santa Claus arrives.

Today, for the twenty-fifth week of Trinity the Bach Chorale sings J.S.Bach's cantata BWV 26 Ach Wie Flüchtig, Ach Wie Nichtig. Emily Scharf, Mrs. Dowager, one of the tenor ringers and Zack sing the arias. Zack planned to fondle Emily's buttocks during her aria, but landed on Mrs. Dowager instead; this earned him a smack in the kisser after the service.

The text of the opening chorus is a contemplation of the transient nature of human existence:

Ah, how fleeting, ah, how empty
Is the life of mortals!
As a mist which quickly riseth
And again as quickly passeth,
Even thus our life is, witness!

Mr. Nichts of the Theology department delivers today's inspirational message, the title of which is Party Tonight, God May Zap You Tomorrow.

After the service, Roderick bumps into Lily Chang just outside the Chapel. She's wearing a tight-fitting sweater and jeans, and the sight of her inspires a jumble of images in Roderick's mind: sweater, buxom, surprisingly, Minneapolis, Negroes.

He greets her. "Hey, Lily! Sorry I had to leave the meeting after refreshments the other night. Betsy Whistler and Emily Scharf wanted to sleep over and I had to go meet up with them."

Lily purrs. "Wow, you're a Republican, play the clarinet and you sing. I just may have to beg you to tear off my clothes and ravish me."

"That's very tempting," says Roderick. "But can I take a raincheck? I've promised Molly we'll be each others' 'first'".

"Want to have lunch with Mr. Parvulesco and me? We're meeting at the Old Ivy Inn in an hour."

Roderick readily agrees, in part because he's really interested in hearing what Mr. Parvulesco has to say about politics and it's a little awkward when girls throw themselves at him. It's flattering, of course, but he's made a pledge to Molly and plans to keep it. You have to have a code.

Lily, Roderick and Mr. Parvulesco sit in a quiet corner of the Dining Room at the Old Ivy Inn. Roderick has heard that Mr. Parvulesco's table manners are something to marvel at -- somewhere between 'piggish' and 'disgusting' -- and he's promised to make a full report to the rest of the gang.

Lily kicks off the conversation. "I'n concerned about some of the things you said the other night about tax increases. How can raising taxes possibly be a good thing?"

"It's not a good thing," says Mr. Parvulesco between bites of a turkey drumstick. "But sometimes we have to choose between a bad thing and a worse thing. Is it worse to raise taxes or is it worse to borrow money? Republicans used to stand for fiscal responsibility, which distinguished them as the grown-up party compared to the Demoocrats, who think money grows on trees. Keep in mind that all government spending is paid for with taxes. The only fiscal decision we make is whether to tax today or to tax tomorrow."

Roderick asks a question. "But with long-term interest rates near zero, isn't this a great time to borrow?"

Mr. Parvulesco stops biting the turkey leg and pauses to belch. "That would be true under a free-market model, but global capital markets don't operate that way. Central banks intervene in various ways to control and manipulate interest rates; as a result, when things unravel it happens so fast that policy options are limited. Basing fiscal policy on the current cost of borrowing is like asking the fox to watch the hen house."

Lily interjects. "Why do we have to choose between raising taxes now and borrowing? Why can't we cut spending?"

"Well of course we should cut wasteful spending," says Mr. Parvulesco, wiping a stream of gravy from his chin. "But the question is what Republicans in Congress should do today. Republicans have been talking about cutting spending since 1980, but have accomplished little. Back in 1995, after Republicans took over Congress, there was a lot of talk about cutting spending, but they could never carry the debate. Under President Bush, with Republicans firmly in control of both houses of Congress from 2002 through 2006, spending grew faster than ever."

"Does that mean we should stop trying?"

"It means that there is no real public support for spending cuts. Elected officials aren't stupid."

"So what should we do?"

"For the answer to that," says Mr. Parvulesco, licking his plate clean, "you should invite me out to another meal." He winks at Lily and departs.

That evening, in Roderick's room, Molly stands completely naked before the full-length mirror. "Roderick," she asks, "do you think I'm pretty?"

Roderick, who is in the middle of a chapter in Mr. Rothschild's History of Banking text, pauses. Placing a bookmark, he bounds over to Molly, flings his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder.

"Not pretty...gorgeous, I think."

"Have you always thought so? I mean even when we were kids playing with Laddie at Beauneville Park?"

"Well I don't know...our feelings change over time, you know. When we were little kids we didn't think much about such things."

"But you do now?"

Roderick nods.

"Do you ever want to tear off my clothes and ravish me?"

"Well I hardly need to tear off your clothes, do I?"

Molly smiles. "No, I guess not."

"And as for ravishment...", Roderick details exactly what he would like them to do, something that could be described as ravishment except that Molly would be an active participant.

Molly's eyes widen. "Oh!" she says. "We should do that some time."

Mr. Parvulesco, Part Two

Members of the Old Ivy Republican Club have more questions for Mr. Parvulesco.

A girl Roderick recognizes stands up. "I have a follow-up question. If the Republicans let the Bush tax cuts expire, won't that be bad for the economy?"

Mr. Parvulesco shrugs. "Who knows?"

The girl persists. "Don't you think that tax increases are bad for the economy?"

"What economy? Whose economy? Who knows?"

Roderick thinks about something Mr. Rothschild said in his History of Banking class -- that "The Economy" is a metaphor for the collective behavior of millions of people around the world. He stands to ask a question.

"Mr. Parvulesco, won't tax increases be bad for those of us who actually pay taxes?"

Mr. Parvulesco brightens, as if he finally has an intelligent question to field. "Well, yes, and that's why Republicans in Congress should let all of the Bush tax cuts expire."

Roderick looks quizzical.

Mr. Parvulesco continues. "Democrats propose to extend the tax cuts for all but 'the wealthy'. That's a deliberate attempt to drive a wedge between middle-class taxpayers and upper income taxpayers. The Republicans should stand for the taxpaying class as a whole and not let Democrats play divide-and-conquer'".

"Isn't half a loaf better than none?"

"Not in this case. The Democratic machine is based on spending and giving people free stuff in return for votes. The only check on that is an organized and angry taxpayer class. If the Bush tax cuts expire everyone pays more taxes, more voters will care about putting limits on spending."

"But isn't that risky?"

"Somebody else asked the same question a little while ago. Risky how? The Bush tax cuts expire at the end of this year. In 2014, nobody will remember what Congress did in 2012."

Lily Chang stands up. "OK we're going to break for refreshments now, and then we'll have time for more questions for Mr. Parvulesco."

Roderick stands up and stretches. Grabbing a drink and plate of cookies, he mingles with the crowd, looking for someone he knows. He sees Miss Troll standing by herself and strolls over.

He tests his pick-up skills. "Hi, I'd like to send you a link to a nifty website with tips about personal hygiene." He figures girls really dig guys who are helpful.

"Fuck off, pig!" It's pretty clear that Miss Troll isn't taking the bait.

"Hmmph," says Roderick, sipping his drink. Well, that didn't go well.

"Roderick Smith!" It's Lily Chang, stunning in her bright red dress with daringly low cleavage. Roderick still thinks she's surprisingly buxom for an Asian girl, even if she really is from Minneapolis.

Roderick smiles. "Hey! Good to see you! Wasn't that a great meeting on Monday?"

"What meeting?" says Lily gesturing to him to button his lip. Oh, right. Members of Cyathos et Gladios do not talk about Cyathos et Gladios outside of Cyathos et Gladios. Lily takes him by the elbow and steers him to a private corner of the room.

"I'm glad you came," Lily whispers. "I really dig Republican guys."

Roderick is flattered to hear this coming from someone as gorgeous as Lily and with such a revealing neckline, although Lily's interest in "Republican' guys doesn't really rule anyone out at Old Ivy.

He returns the whisper. "Do you still watch a lot of TV and hang out with Negroes?"

"There's no time for TV here at Old Ivy and not many Negroes, so I've broadened my interests." She makes a gesture that indicates in just what way her interests have broadened, a very specific gesture referring to something that he and Molly have not yet done.

"Oh. Heh heh." Roderick learned that from Mr. Smiley.

"And I hear that you play clarinet. Do you play the saxophone, too? I just melt for guys who play the saxophone."

Roderick does not play the saxophone. He's aware that the saxophone is cool, and that women melt for guys who play the sax. He doesn't. But he's thinking about it.

Mr. Parvulesco, Part One

At Lily Chang's behest, Roderick attends a meeting of the Old Ivy Republican Club in the Beaune Room.

Stepping inside, he scans the room. It is dimly lit and darkly paneled, with a few small stained glass windows. A fire crackles in the fireplace, over which there hangs a portrait of Auguste Beaune. The wooden floors are partially covered with oriental rugs. Folding chairs are arranged in soldierly rows, facing a lectern at one end of the room.

A throng of students fills the room, mostly Republicans but also a few trolls, distinguishable by their footwear. Roderick recognizes a few people in the room -- Megan Cupcake, of course, plus the Reed twins, Michael Dampfen and a couple of the Changs from the Chamber Orchestra violin section, Zack from Bach Chorale and a quodlibet of faces, some of which he recognizes.

Lily Chang, stunningly dressed in a bright red tightly fitting dress with plunging neckline, steps to the podium. "OK, everyone, take your seats! Let's get started!" This command sets off a veritable scrum for available seats. Roderick just barely manages to get one next to one of the trolls.

"Hi, my name's Roderick." He extends his hand to the troll, who is of the girl variety, with long stringy hair and large glasses. Roderick thinks she has the potential to be attractive with small improvements to her personal hygiene.

"Fuck off, pig." Miss Troll, it seems, is not here to mingle.

"OK, everyone, thank you for coming tonight." Lily adjusts the microphone. "I know, I know, the election last week sucked. But it's time to move on. Our speaker is Mr. Parvulesco of the Politics department, who is here to take your questions."

The crowd applauds respectfully as Mr. Parvulesco shambles to the podium. He is quite tall, well over six feet, with shaggy white hair and a somewhat disheveled look. He waves to the crowd.

Immediately, there is a forest of hands in the air. Lily points to a smartly dressed collegian in the front row. "Bradley, you first."

Bradley stands and faces Mr. Parvulesco. "What should Republicans in Congress do now?"

Mr. Parvulesco inspects his fingernails. "Nothing."

Forest of hands. Lily points to another student, who rises. "What about the fiscal cliff?"

"It's Obama's problem," says Mr. Parvulesco, slightly bored.

Another question. "Won't higher taxes hurt the economy?"

"They might. It's still Obama's problem."

"But Obama will blame Republicans in Congress if they don't co-operate and make a deal."

"He'll blame Republicans no matter what they do, and make stuff up if necessary. No deal is better than a bad deal."

"But isn't that a risk for Republicans?"

"What risk? According to opinion polls, Americans blame Republicans in Congress for the last fiscal standoff and hold Congress in the lowest esteem ever, and yet most of them just got re-elected. Chances are that in two years Republicans will pick up more seats no matter what happens now."

"Doesn't the President have a mandate?"

"Yes, and so do Congressional Republicans."

"But the election was an electoral landslide."

"Four hundred thousand votes out of a hundred and thirty million cast. A fraction of one percent. Obama won by turning out his base with narrowly targeted and personalized messages. That's not a mandate for anything other than Big Bird and Binders."

(To be continued)...

Things Left Unspoken

"Roderick, we have to talk," says Megan as Roderick fills his plate with scrapple and applesauce.

"Um, OK." Roderick follows Megan to a small table apart from the others, takes a seat and bites a piece of scrapple.

"So...um...I'm not sure how to say this..." Megan struggles to find the right words.

"Take your time," says Roderick through a mouthful of scrapple.

"Well, um....it's been great being your girlfriend, and...I don't want to hurt your feelings, but....I'm thinking maybe I just need some space."

"OK". Roderick spears another piece of scrapple, scoots it around in the applesauce and devours it.

"You know, um, I've been thinking about seeing Henry Witherspoon because he seems like he'll be a good earner."

"Yes, I understand that there's a real future in Tax Policy."

Megan winces. "Of course, I'm sure you will be a good earner, too."

"Yes, I suppose that's probably true."

"But Molly won't want to share your income and assets."

Roderick reflects on this point. "No, I guess she won't."

"I had the tattoo removed, the one with your name."

"I didn't know that you had a tattoo."

"Of course, this doesn't mean we can't have sex and stuff."

"We haven't had sex."

"True. But there's always the future." Megan checks her watch. "Oops, gotta run. Conference call with Lake City University Chicks With Glocks." She departs.

Molly sees Megan depart and occupies the empty seat across from Roderick, who smiles. "What did Megan want?" she asks.

"I think I've just been broken up with."

"What a shame!" says Molly. "I'm so sorry."

"She wants to be Henry's first girlfriend because she figures you wouldn't want to share my income and assets."

"I never thought about that," says Molly. "But I suppose it's customary."

Roderick shrugs. "Not to worry. I'll just have to promote Emily Scharf to second girlfriend."

"She's a lovely person. And both of you are interested in music."

Roderick leans forward. "But I need your womanly advice about something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Should I tell Emily she's second girlfriend or just leave it ambiguous?"

Molly reflects, then offers standard Beauneville wisdom. "I think it's better to leave some things unspoken."

In the evening, Roderick attends a secret meeting of Cyathos et Gladios, the proceedings of which we cannot describe in this story because it's secret.

Pareto Efficiency

In St. Cecilia Chapel this morning, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs Bach's cantata BWV 21 Ich Hatte Viel Bekümmernis, which tranlates roughly to 'My Heart Was Deeply Troubled'. This longish cantata is actually intended for earlier in Trinity, but Mr. Mendelssohn thinks it appropriate in view of the election results.

Candy Whistlethorne sings the Soprano aria:

Seufzer, Tränen, Kummer, Not,
Ängstlichs Sehnen, Furcht und Tod
Nagen mein beklemmtes Herz,
Ich empfinde Jammer, Schmerz.

Which translates as:

Sighing, crying, sorrow, need,
Anxious yearning, fear and death
Gnaw at this my anguished heart,
I am filled with grieving, hurt.

One of the ringers sings the Tenor aria, and Zack sings the Bass aria, with his hand firmly on Candy's buttocks.
Mr. Puddleston of the Theology department delivers the inspirational message: 'When Your Heart Is Deeply Troubled, Take Solace In Liquor'.

Meanwhile, in Beauneville, the Blooms attend Sunday services at the Church of Nothing. The Young Virgins, Mary Bloom among them, dressed in their finest long white dresses sing 'We Are Virgins, Tra-La, Tra-La, Tra-La, Tra-Ley'. Mr. Flemm, the minister, delivers the Sunday sermon, which is much ado about Nothing.

Megan sleeps late. On awakening, she opens her secret journal and writes:

God, Henry is such a crashing bore. If I hear another word about accelerated depreciation or tax-loss carryforwards, I swear I shall throw up. Still, he looks like a good earner, and he's such an idiot I can marry him and carry on behind his back. He'll be off tax auditing and I'll be entertaining guests with my legs spread wide apart...

We pause the narrative momentarily to give Megan some privacy as she returns to her bed to take care of some private business.

A few minutes later, Megan returns to her diary.

Speaking of hot, that Mary Bloom sizzles. If I were a lesbian, I would totally want to tie her to a four poster bed and...

Megan's cell phone rings. It's Henry, calling to mooch a ride back to Old Ivy.

"Sure, Henry, I'll swing by around two. See you then." Megan hits the End key on her phone. Good, she thinks. Hook, line and sinker.

Back at Old Ivy, Roderick is working on a paper for the Political Economy discussion group. At Old Ivy, students are not assigned to write papers. Instead, they have the option to present papers to an assortment of informal discussion groups. There is no requirement to do so, but students who do not do so will be sorely pressed to meet the graduation requirement, which mandates that each student publish a major paper. (Music students may substitute a public recital for the publication; there are other exceptions as well, too numerous to detail here).

Roderick checks the Wikipedia entry on Pareto Efficiency, which is how economists describe the set of conditions under which it is impossible to make anyone better off without making others worse off. He's working on an essay where he plans to argue that since governments operate in a coercive framework, that no government policy can be Pareto efficient. This is a fancy-pants way to say that governments inevitably rob Peter to pay Paul, so if you want to do well it's better to throw in your lot with Paul than with Peter.

He pauses to look around the room. Kind of quiet tonight. Molly isn't able to come over this evening, she's rehearsing with Anna. No sign of Megan or Emily Scharf, either.

Hmmpf, thinks Roderick. I need more girlfriends.

There is a soft knock on the door. Roderick answers.

"Hi, Roderick, can I come in?" It's Betsy Whistler.

Tell Me About Tax Policy

Life unfolds in unexpected ways. Megan Cupcake enrolled at Old Ivy expecting to hook up with Roderick and also expecting that her novel, inspired by Jane Austen and E.L. James, would draw attention as 'the exciting first novel by the young, red-haired and buxom Megan Cupcake, who wears a Glock strapped to her hip and is also young, red-haired and buxom'.

Instead, inspired by her presentation ('Just Blow Their Heads Off') at Anti-Rape Week, interest in Chicks With Glocks has exploded. Megan has requests from college campuses across the country, and next week she plans to travel to Lake City University to address the local chapter.

Wow, thinks Megan, as she waits for Mary Bloom to show up at the Cafe Venice on Main Street. Sure didn't take long to morph from hot and sexy scribe of historico-sado-masochistic-erotic novels to hot and sexy gun rights advocate.

And, on the romantic front, things are looking pretty good with Henry Witherspoon, at least in Megan's imagination. They haven't actually fornicated yet. In fact, they haven't so much as conversed, although so far as Megan is concerned, the former does not require the latter. But Megan thinks that Henry will be a much better meal ticket than Roderick. Not that Roderick won't be a good earner, but Megan figures that Molly won't want to share his income and assets, which is the downside of being second girlfriend.

Mary Bloom arrives, out of breath. "Sorry to be late," she pants, removing her jacket and placing it on the chair next to Megan. "Virgin Club ran late."

"Speaking of which..." says Megan, sliding one of Dr. Graft's cards across the table. Earlier in the week, Megan emailed Mary a link to a story about a Brazilian woman who auctioned her virginity for $780,000.

Mary examines Dr. Graft's card. "Hymen restoration? I don't get it."

Megan leans forward conspiratorially. "You pay Dr. Graft five hundred bucks, he fixes up your ladyparts like new. Then, you put them up for auction."

"Ohhhhh, I see." Mary ponders. "Wow, $750,000. I could almost pay for college with that."

"Possibly, if you go to a cheap college."

"Right."

"And here's the best thing" Megan whispers. "You can do it more than once!"

Mary's eyes widen in amazement. "Wow, I never thought of that." She checks her watch. "Oops, I have to run. 'Business appointment', you know," she says, using her fingers to signify scare quotes around the words 'business appointment'.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?"

Mary does need a lift, to Mr. Swift's house, where she is expected for a regular 'business appointment' that generally includes a bit of discipline. While no cash changes hands, Mary maintains her status on the honor roll, at least so far as Mr. Swift's classes are concerned.

After dropping off Mary, Megan motors over to Henry Witherspoon's house to see if he is home for the weekend. She rings the doorbell, and Mrs. Witherspoon answers.

"Hi, I'm Megan, is Henry here?"

"Yes, Megan, come in."

Megan steps into the foyer while Mrs. Witherspoon calls up the stairs. "Henry! There's a friend here to see you!"

After a brief wait, Henry descends halfway down the stairs and bends over to see who is waiting for him. "Um, hi," he says, descending the rest of the way. "It's Megan isn't it?"

"Ooh, I'm so excited that you remembered my name" coos Megan. "I just thought I'd come over and see if you want to, you know..." Megan leaves the sentence unfinished, but there is no mistaking her meaning.

"Well, um, I'm working on Tax Policy right now."

"Ooooh, Tax Policy, tell me about Tax Policy..."

So Henry and Megan sit down and Henry shares his thoughts on accelerated depreciation, tax-loss carryforwards and multinational accounting. Megan understands none of it, of course, but openly admires Henry for being such a big and strong tax accountant. And he must need a back rub because he carries the weight of so much Tax Policy on his shoulders. So she gives him one, with the caution that there will be no sex on the first date because her inner thigh is still pretty tender from that surgery.

Point Taken

The Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra -- Mr. Ralf Geschwindigkeit, Music Director -- performs the works of classical composers such as Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert. Several times a year, the Orchestra joins forces with the College Choir to perform classics of the choral repetoire, such as the Mozart Requiem or Haydn's The Seasons.

This afternoon, members of the orchestra gather in the Auditorium to rehearse for the next concert. The violinists -- all of whom are surnamed Chang -- fiddle and scrabble, each hoping they will one day emerge from the anonymity of section playing and stand before the world solo, performing Brahms, Mendelssohn or Tchaikovsky. The violas, on the other hand, pray for obscurity and hope that no composer will be so daft as to require them to be exposed. The cellists are of mixed feeling, wishing in part to play a beautiful solo or to blend in seamlessly with the others, but the women amongst them mostly hope they can avoid an upskirt situation.

The string basses are cool, because they can play jazz.

As expected, there are many more prospective flautists than the three required. Mr. Geschwindigkeit chose the best of the lot back in September. There were the usual jokes about the unique qualities of a flautist's embouchure and what is actually required to be selected, but it's no accident that the three young women selected are really hot. Betsy Whistler, the third flautist, doubles on piccolo.

Oboists are in short supply, and were it not for the Reed twins (Ralph and Rachel) there would be none. Mr. Geschwindigkeit likes to joke that his Oboe section is 'double-Reed', a joke that the Reeds think is really funny but nobody else quite understands.

Clarinets are cool, too, because they can double on saxophone and play jazz. Roderick doesn't do this, but he's mindful that he could.

The bassoons are problematic. Mr. Geschwindigkeit was fired from his previous position after referring to the bassoons as "fagotte"; the campus GLBT association filed a grievance, and that was the end of him. (Nobody objected when he called the violas "bratschen", but it did seem odd.) Since then, he avoids speaking with the bassoonists at all even when they are obviously out of tune (which, sadly, is often the case).

Michael Dampfen, principal horn player, longs to perform the solo from Strauss' Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche, a moment for which he practices constantly but which will never come so long as he plays for the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra, which is too small to take on Strauss. Stella Wishniak, second hornist, also plays the Wagner Tuba. She likes to sit out on the Quad and play riffs on her tuba until people pay her to stop.

Nancy Pauken plays the kettle drums. Mr. Geschwindigkeit is particularly fond of her drumming, and fond of her propensity to wear very low-cut dresses that reveal ample cleavage when she leans over the drums.

Members of the orchestra hush as Mr. Geschwindigkeit -- known as "the Maestro" -- approaches the podium. He holds up a hand for silence, and murmurs: "Behtoffen, pliss." Everyone shuffles music on the stands and places the sheet music for Beethoven's Symphony Number Five on top. Mr. Geschwindigkeit raises his arms, and the musicians prepare: violins and violas to the chin, cellists sitting erect, string basses with bows poised, woodwinds and brass inhaling, tympanist with drumstick poised.

The Maestro punches the air with his baton, simultaneously erupting with a guttural "BLRGFPT!" and spray of spittal. The orchestra responds: BA-BA-BA-BUMMMMM. Another spastic punch: BA-BA-BA-BUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, and silence with the wave of the hand.

Hunching down, Mr. Geschwindigkeit makes the tiniest of gestures toward the second violins. Softly, they kick off the main theme, followed by violas and first violins, building through several measures until, with a grand wave of the Maestro's hand, the winds return with a climactic BA-BA-BA BUM! BUM! BUM!!!!

Mr. Geschwindigkeit waves his hand to stop the orchestra. He points to Roderick.

"You like Behtoffen,yesss?" He hisses the 'yes' in a rather sinister manner.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think Behtoffen knew how to vrite music?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think Behtoffen knew how to vrite for ze klarinetten?"

"Yes, sir."

"THEN VHY DUN'T YOU PLAY VHAT'S PRINTED????"

"I was only off by a note," Roderick mutters, under his breath. Betsy Whistler, who sits right in front of him, turns and winks at him flirtatiously. Roderick couldn't help noticing previously that Betsy is really gorgeous, and since she's wearing a halter top and gym shorts he has a perfect view of her tramp stamp.

Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Megan Cupcake recovers from plastic surgery. She checks her inner thigh, where a large bandage covers the site of the now-purged tattoo. Ow. Still tender.

Having discussed the matter with Dr. Graft, she's still thinking about hymen restoration. The doctor's prognosis wasn't good -- he described the problem as 'cleaning up after a train wreck with a pair of tweezers', which Megan thought was a little insensitive, but point taken.