I hope by the time you read this in 2013, you're doing so from your pimped out house, cozy in a big-ass boss wingback chair, a lowball tumbler of sweet-ass bourbon in one hand (may I recommend Wild Turkey American Honey? shit is drinkable, son!), fire crackling in the obligatory fireplace, giving a warm light to the bear-skin rug (which of course you hunted down then tanned yourself) sprawled on the floor (dark stained maple, the lumber timbered and planked yourself) of your aforementioned pimped out house. Which of course will have no fucking asbestos or knob & tube wiring. ♥