Enjoy Murky. Enjoy the fact that your flesh does not force your shirt to bubble out of your pants, as you sip your drink and read. Rest assured that they may not care about flying or the physique, but I'm sure that would change were fucking involved.

Extra luck, and respect, regarding the memorial--I don't think I could handle that, and I'm hoping there are a few more years before I end up in that position.

Oh, and as for crying -- fuck -- bloody social cripples and babies.