Doug Melaas

2010-08-27T12:20:00.001-05:00

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Our Punk Rock Pasts

2007-12-02T21:48:00.000-06:00

Recently I've been sucked back twenty years (actually a little more than that!). I found The Secret History of the Cedar Valley website. I stumbled on this time machine while doing some other random crap on the internet and now I'm obsessed...
Go back to 1983, I bought my first Dead Kennedys album, really started hating Cresco, and discovered that there were alternatives to what Crestwood High School seemed to offer.
Skip forward three anger-filled years and the discovery that Black Flag is playing in Cedar Falls! Oh My God! There are other people in Iowa who are interesting!
So 1986 and 1987 were filled with going to and helping put on punk rock shows (notably The Aggressive Chubbies and Crock Of Dookey playing in the orchestra rehearsal hall at Luther) and getting drunk. That show that we threw together in Jensen Music Hall was hilarious. We made such a mess of that room, fortunately Shreenu (spelling??) wandered in and told me that he would clean up the mess as he was working maintenance in that room the following morning. That was how the Theta Chi's kept me from getting expelled (momentarily) from Luther. If that mess had gone uncleaned my ass would have been grass as I had signed out the room. But, hey, about 50 punk kids smoking clove cigarettes and slam dancing in the orchestra hall was worth it. Ahh, cloves, the sweet smell of rebellion.
So anyhow, when I find this site it hits me like a bat to the head... Someone (Matt from Crock Of Dookey) actually made an art exhibit at Wartburg that detailed a lot of that time period and what we were up to.
Couple that with the Editors new album and it is like 1987 all over again. If you haven't heard the Editors, I thought the first time I heard it that there was some undiscovered Joy Division albums that had been unearthed. Very cool stuff.
It's a wacky world.

Bike Trip 2007

2007-09-25T10:17:00.001-05:00

Day 4 of the Bike Trip

2007-09-25T09:47:00.000-05:00

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Monday (Sept. 24th). 213 miles.
Today brought threats of storms. So, Randy and I got up and headed out of Duluth by 10am. We attempted to do some scenic touring, but it ended up as a gravel road adventure... damn gravel. Anyhow, after finding our way back to Highway 23 in Wisconsin we hauled ass for home. A quick stop at the Dennis Kirk outlet (motorcycle stuff) in Rush City to buy a new pair of gloves (mine were all worn out!). Shortly after that stop, Randy split off to head for Elk River and I stopped looking at scenery and was more worried about the storm clouds. I got a little wet during the last thirty miles, but that was less than I thought it would be!

Day 3 of the Bike Trip

2007-09-25T09:27:00.000-05:00

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Day 3 (Sunday, Sept. 23). 325 miles.
Randy (brother-in-law) motored up to near McGregor to meet me. He arrived around 11:30am and we headed north promptly. We had a crappy Ember's lunch in Grand Rapids and were soon on the road through some of the most beautiful scenery in North America. Riding along the Laurentide Divide on the "Edge of the Wilderness" scenic byway was amazing! My sore shoulder caught up with me in Ely where we considered spending the night, but we rode on for Duluth. Highway 1 from Ely to Lake Superior was also an amazing run. Long day (longer for Randy).

Day 2 of the Bike Trip

2007-09-25T09:01:00.000-05:00

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Day 2 (Saturday, 9/22). 270 miles.
Today was perfect for riding. Clear skies and no wind, comfortably cool temperature and little humidity. All made for a lovely ride through some amazing countryside. The colors of the leaves are at (or close to) their peak so this ride couldn't have been timed better!

Day 1 of the Bike Trip

2007-09-25T08:30:00.000-05:00

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Friday (Sept 21). 155 miles.
I left home to get to Glenwood around Noon. It wasn't raining, but the wind was just about enough to blow me off the rode! Three grueling hours of fighting the wind and I finally got to Glenwood. I got half the dock out that evening and the other half on Saturday morning.

5 Days to Go!!!

2007-08-05T10:02:00.000-05:00

Well, if my head doesn't explode before Friday, we will have made it. Over three years of meetings, designing, drawing, re-designing, re-drawing, installing, re-designing the re-designs, and more installing will come to an end. Our first public show (a group of comedians) will hit the stage in the new showroom on Friday night. I can't believe that it will finally be done. I've been waiting for this for eight years (it was talked about way back when I started working for the casino) and working on it for the last three and a half. I don't know what I'm going to work on once this is done... kinda scary!

A Shiny Red Bike!

2007-07-08T19:23:00.000-05:00

I finally got the pricing/timing/riding all figured out (for this time)! A couple of weeks ago I got my nifty Triumph. It's a 2001 Sprint ST. Although it is the same model I rode earlier this spring and found to be too tight, that was a 2006. This one has a bunch of extra farkles already added, bar risers, custom seat, performance exhaust, a tank bag, and the third trunk. All this for less than the Concours was costing (per month).
I felt somewhat un-patriotic zipping down the road on the 4th of July with the Union Jack being pasted onto the back of the bike... But then again, I've never felt particularly patriotic, so there!

The 100th IOM TT, where am I?

2007-05-28T21:13:00.000-05:00

This week is the practice sessions for the greatest road race spectacle on the planet, the Isle of Man TT. This the the 100th anniversary of the race and here I am, six time zones and three realities away from the grandstands. I truthfully would have given my left testicle to go see this race, but apparently the rest of the world doesn't think my left testicle is as valuable as I think it is...
Ah well, I'm subscribing to a live audio feed from the race and that will have to do. So, next weekend I'll be sitting on my couch, cheering for every rider as they race buy in my imagination. This all ties back to my plan to come back as a 110 pound Italian MotoGP racer, ya know...

Another musical link...

2007-05-28T09:21:00.000-05:00

Okay, this is an upcoming album by Dallas-based band "The Polyphonic Spree". They seem to be an awful lot of fun. Their sheer numbers remind me of a couple other bands that we used to see in Dallas that had 20+ members... Anyhow, great sounds.

New Motorcycle Difficulties!

2007-05-27T19:50:00.001-05:00

Okay, I've had my Concours for three years now and it's time to change. I've been shopping for a groovy BLUE sport touring machine, but so far I can't find one that fits. Damn these superior Nordic genes and all that milk that I drank as a kid...

So, I've decided that something needs to be done about it. I'd like some help figuring out which is the best approach to this problem...

Petition Triumph to make a one-off Sprint ST that will fit me. A mere $50K should do it.
Buy a plane ticket to Kazakstan and find a street surgeon who can do a quick "bone shortening" surgery. Sure, it may hurt a bunch (what with just vodka for anisthetic), but it's probably the cheapest solution.
Build a time machine. Travel back in time to 1975. Find the young Doug. Hypnotize him and tell him to drink a lot of coffe and beer and to start smoking. These suggestions should result in a smaller modern Doug. If, after returning to the present, I find that I'm still the same size (due to a bloated liver from drinking too much) then I'll travel back in time again and carve out the young Doug's pituitary gland with a spoon. That should definately do it.
Work out a points exchange with the Infamous Council of Karma so that in my next lifetime I come back as a 110 pound Italian MotoGP racer. The trick with this would be that going from Nordic blood to Italian blood may be seen as a regression by the Council, and I would have leftover Karmic points on my scorecard. This could virtually insure that the lifetime after that I would come back as a fully enlightened being (a dog). Although this may seem like a good plan, I'm not sure that I'd be ready to smell that much dog ass so soon.

Any suggestions?

Groovy Bjork tune...

2007-05-27T19:44:00.000-05:00

Not typically a big Bjork fan, but this song was so odd that it caught my attention. Now I can't stop listening to it...

Listen to the whole song now!
Bjork "Volta"— Dull Flame of Desire

This is kind of cool. I'm a winged freak!

2006-12-15T19:51:00.000-06:00

I am The Tower

Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.

The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.

The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I've hit a noisy snag...

2006-09-09T20:56:00.000-05:00

So, after a few days of busting knuckles, gritting teeth, and learning more than I really wanted to know about how my motorcycle works I've hit a snag.
The bike is 100% assembled (no counting body panels) and ready for the final tweaking of the carbs to balance out the system.
I fired up the new engine and much to my horror I have a very loud bike! It looks like the exhaust pipe on the #1 cylinder is not seated into the manifold correctly... hmmm.
I really hope that I don't have to pull the radiator and all that stuff of in order to get this corrected. I was sure that I had it seated right, but when I was finishing up that portion of the installation I was busy having an argument with my 7 year-old. I must have been distracted to have let it be this obviously out of whack. I hope I can coax it into position with a rubber mallet and some love. :)
I'm too bummed and tired right now to figure it out right now, tomorrow will tell.

The rebuilding saga (Part II)

2006-09-04T19:08:00.000-05:00

Today was a busy day in the garage! I removed the alternator, starter, rear wheel, final drive, swingarm/drive shaft, carbeurators, air box, & finally dropped the blown up POS engine out!
I have never been much of a mechanic, but this is (so far) pretty easy, it just takes some head-scratching to get through some of these steps. Steps that would be much easier if Amazon would ship me my damn shop manual. Ah well, here's a couple interesting shots of the days work...

And that, my friends, was a lot of shit done in one day.

The rebuilding adventure begins...

2006-09-02T19:36:00.000-05:00

I went up to Anoka and bought a used engine for my beloved big blue motorcycle today. Now, once Amazon coughs up my shop manual for the bike, I can start the real work of rebuilding. Hopefully, things will go smoothly. I still plan on getting some riding in this fall (fingers and toes are crossed).

I just haven't been inspired to post anything on this damn blog lately. Maybe once I get past the stress of rebuilding I can get creative again.

Blown Up!

2006-08-26T22:55:00.000-05:00

Here's a couple of pictures of the bike restoration project... I'm in the process of tearing the Concours down, I'll be replacing everything from the carbs to the driveshaft. I have to do a rebuild on the carbs as well, but they won't be new. Man, what a mess.

Can you spot the problem?? Except that monstrous hole in the crankcase, what could possibly be wrong? The second image is looking from below the crankcase up into the gaping hole, you can see the piston head still in place in the cylinder. Note the lack of a connecting rod... hmmm, I wonder where that went...

The Exploding Motorcycle!

2006-08-17T19:12:00.001-05:00

The title says it all... My beautiful blue motorcycle had a fatal mechanical failure on Monday morning. Nice morning, happy birds singing, sun shining on me as I scoot away from home and head for work.

Five miles later... BOOM.

All done. Motorcycle go boom. Of course, since it is a mechanical failure (blown engine(very blown)), insurance won't cover it. I owe a bundle on the damn thing yet, so I guess it's time to have a benefit concert. So I'll have to rebuild the engine (this means a total replacement in this case) in order to trade up next spring. If I had just thought to crash during the process insurance would have covered it! Damn, I wish I had thought of that when the grenade went off in the crankcase... ah well.

Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny

2006-07-24T20:24:00.000-05:00

I really enjoy this little bloodletting song. It sounds vaguely like The Dead Milkmen lead singer (what's his name??). Anyway, I hope all of you enjoy this as much as I do.

Goat on a Pole...

2006-07-22T16:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, a quick post here. I've just got to spread the word... to hell with all your other "belief systems"! Here is the answer...

http://goatonapole.com/

The Truth about Pickles...

2006-06-18T09:54:00.000-05:00

Mindy can be blamed for this post. She recently commented on the story of Gundar, saying it was a better fate than that of my cat Pickles. So, for those of you who need to know, here is the unabridged, unabashed, unembelished story of a cat named Pickles...

WARNING - This story involves horrifying life lessons.

I was four when a batch of barn-cat kittens came to my attention. No special lineage, just a batch of randomly colored kittens. Once the mother had weaned them, I picked out my favorite and moved it to a little hut so we could keep track of it and feed it. I named my new cat "Pickles", because I liked pickles. Seems logical.

Things were going along swimmingly for Pickles and I. Lots of adventures in the sandbox, lots of time spent being carted around. Things were going well. Until my fifth birthday. I remember this quite well, the cake was a little castle, I had some friends over for a party, and the presents were all quite nice. They were all nice, but one had a more sinister fate than just my plaything... The toy in question was a large-scale GI Joe adventure set, the underwater adventure set to be exact.

Growing up on a farm meant that you were constantly surrounded by life and death. The birth of calves in the spring and their inevitable death (either by disease or sale to the packing plant). Even by the time I was five we had lost many dogs to the highway, so I knew what death was all about. I just didn't think that I had any power over such mysterious forces. Pickles would pay for this naivety.

Pickles and I were adventuring out in the sandbox a few days after my birthday. He was (as normal) dressed up in the clothes for GI Joe. They fit him and it was a lot more fun that just a plastic action-man (I refuse to call it a doll). We grew tired of the normal routine of digging a cave of sand and putting the cat in it as a defensive position. So, I decided to try out the new scuba gear. After looking at the package, it seemed that these bits of plastic would keep GI Joe safe underwater. So, on they went...

I will spare you the details of Pickles demise.

After Pickles was no longer playing, I took him into the house and brought him to my mother. She had a horrified look as I held out Pickles, still in partial GI Joe adventure-wear, and explained that he wouldn't move anymore. Mom took him away, saying she would put him with his mother to get better. She hurried out the door with him and that was that.

I had no idea I had killed him. He was just tired, worn out from playing. So, later that evening it was explained to me what I had done. I was dumbfounded. What was God thinking when he put a five year old in charge of such monstrous powers?

It was a shocking way to learn the lesson that your actions can actually kill. In the long run, Pickles' death probably saved hundreds of birds, squirrels, rabbit, deer, pheasant and other game animals, as I never had the stomach to become a serious hunter.

Sorry, St. Pickles.

Let Stupid Dogs Lie...

2006-06-13T19:12:00.000-05:00

As I've been lying about this last week in a fever (and Vikadin) induced stupor, I remembered someone I knew that was a lot like this. This fever has brought me closer to an understanding of one of my stupid-er (?) pets... This can't be a good thing.

When I was in 7th grade our dog Dixie had puppies. Three of them... three Melaas kids, three dogs, seemed like a good fit. Except that the Melaas elder had decreed that all but one must go! So, first to go (to our neighbor the third grade teacher, Mrs. Hovden) was my puppy named 'Sarge'. Next to go was my brother's puppy (to another neighboring Hovden, there's a million of them around Ridgeway), I think that dog's name was "Scamp". So, my sister's puppy was the lucky "You get to stay at home and grow up a Melaas! Haw-Haw!" prize winner. His name was "Gundar". I don't know why she named him that, but it always sounded like the name of some unkown Norwegian God of Short Bus Riders... "I am Gundar, hear me count!"

So, Gundar grew up Melaas. He was a good dog, tolerant and obediant, always ready to not fetch a stick when you threw it somewhere hard to get to. Gundar was an good, but average, dog from an average mother, then he got sick. He got a horrible case of distemper which just about killed him, but instead (less mercifully) it just destroyed his brain.

After that Gundar changed. He didn't go Cujo on us or anything, but he just wasn't all there. He started chasing the milk truck that pulled in every day, 10 o'clock every damn day and that dog thought it was the first time he had ever seen such a truck... every time. He would also attempt to bite the tires of this (rather large) truck. He managed to get ahold a couple of times which earned him some nasty scars around his nose for his effort. Gundar also stopped socializing with the horde of other Melaas canines. We had two breeding female Bassett Hounds, whom at one point had produced an amazing eighteen puppies. So, with the male bassett, the two bitches, the house dog, Gundar, and the puppies, we had a whopping twenty three dogs to play with. This was like heaven for my brother and I.

But it wasn't much fun for Gundar. While the pile of puppies and their parents would be basking in the sun on the little hill by the house, Gundar would be hiding under the lilac bush, shivering. We probably should have put him down, but we could never bring ourselves to do it.

And all these years later, here I am... hiding in the darkest room in the house, sweating and shivering from the fever, my brain no doubt shrinking. Will somebody have the balls to shoot me if I start chasing the milk truck?

Sick days from Decorah to Home

2006-06-08T18:27:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been out sick from work this whole week! It started on Sunday while I was in Decorah at my nephew's graduation party. I thought it was a hangover from the "too much drinking and not enough golfing" round of golf that I went along for on Saturday. Yikes. I suck at golf, but I decided that the way to win was to drink a whole bunch and get points for creative blasphemy...

My golfing makes baby Jesus cry!

If you yell this loud enough, people will give you a lot of room on the course. We played a course by Ossian, Iowa. I can't remember the name, but I have to wonder, which came first the cheap land to build a golf course or the high density feedlot? Fuck those things should be outlawed. I grew up on a farm and am pretty immune to large amounts of bad stink, but those things are insane. Of course, all the city dwellers still have this idealic image of grandpa and grandma raising a couple pigs by hand behind the barn. Once this myth is destroyed, I think things will change. It really is easier eating a "Wilbur" than eating Hog #5534221. Oh well, I can't change everything.

Now, my sickness is kicking my ass. I had to drive the motorcylce home Sunday evening, it took about four hours and I had about a 102 degree fever going. That was probably enough, but the Lord had it in for me because of the creative blasphemy, He caused the bike to have carb problems and it dropped to running on three cylinders somewhere around Owatonna. Shitty Shitty Shitty.

So, to top the return trip home off in a suitably shitty fashion, once I got home, I didn't think I was there. To explain, when I got home I got some Tylenol to take the (now 103) fever down and headed for bed. As I lay in bed, sweating and cramping from the fever I started hallucinating that I wasn't really home, but that I was in a hospital after a bike crash and I was just dreaming that I was home. That continued for quite a while, as I went in and out of lucidity, and these hallucinations weren't helping my mood.

I stayed home Monday and Tuesday, went in Wednesday morning and immediately regretted it, got a doctors appointment (they gave me Vikadin for the pain and fever) and have now spent 24 hours in a blissful Vikadin haze.

pleh

It's been a long while...

2006-05-29T17:00:00.000-05:00

It has been quite a while since my last posting. I've been busy, so bite me.

This does remind me of a lyric from an old PryOrrities song (hello Luther-ites). Anyhow, Mike and I where driving in his shitty old Scirocco from Decorah up to Rochester to do something monumentally important (although, I can't remember why we were going there). So, somewhere between Chatfield and Marion, I mentioned to Mike that someday, this would be a long, long time ago. Mike and I looked at each other and laughed... nah, that won't happen. Today is all there is, tomorrow doesn't exist, how can yesterday even have happened?

Well, it is official, that day (night to be precise) has been a hell of a long time ago. Nearly twenty years have gone by. Longer than from my birth to my uttering of those words. Holy shit! What happened! A few months after that evening, Mike informed me that he had used the phrase in a song called "Misfortune". As all donors of song lyrics (intentional and unintentional alike), this was always my favorite song of Mike's.

I've lost track of so many things between that evening and today, but that drive remains vivid in my memories. We were so easily satisfied with life... a few dollars for gas, some beer, smokes, and maybe something to eat. I wonder where I'll be when this day is a long, long time ago...

What would you do with your Clone(s)?

2006-02-26T08:44:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking, a dangerous pasttime, I know...

If you were suddenly given the gift of an unlimited number of clones of yourself, what would you do with them? You can't transplant your brain into them,but they'll do anything you tell them to. So, for all intents and purposes, the clone will do your bidding and you can't get in trouble. Hmmm, what to do, what to do...

Minion #1: Please go to the White House and move everything around in the middle of the night. Just scramble all the furniture so Mrs. Bush (god, that name just begs for more jokes) would have some more cleaning to do. She did say how she loves to clean (or have the servant folks do it for her). You might want to bring some sheep to stick in bed with W. Oh, and take a big steamy diahrea shit all over the couch. That's about enough of that, Number One...

Minions #2 - #51: Please go to every state governor's mansion and do the same as number one, minus the steamy shit. Instead, shave the head of every governor while singing the "Star Spangled Banner"(louder, please, Number ThirtyTwo). That'll teach 'em (although, I'm not sure what).

I'm sure that I could find more uses, but it's awful early in the morning for such shenanigans, maybe later I'll update this with more socially redeemable missions for my clones...

Post-Saturday-ial Bliss

2006-02-25T20:46:00.000-06:00

Click...uhhh...whhhhhhh
Saturdays are like pizza (or sex), even bad Saturdays are good.

I did absolutely nothing today. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Not really reading anything. Not really watching TV. I did watch a movie, so I guess that was today's theme, "Waiting."

"Waiting" is an pretty damn funny movie. It sums up what we all went through in our early twenties pretty well. Angst, guilt, drunkeness... ahh, the good old days.

Well, the seven and the four are requiring my attention.

Four - The Number of the Day's Words (all of them)

2006-02-24T18:13:00.000-06:00

Okay. This day absolutely sucked shit. that's one. I get to work and the god damn that's two idiot who is in charge of construction of one of the several projects going on decides to call.
"Here's the spec on the floorbox for your systems...What? It's not what you requested, it won't work? Well, that's too bad, it's already installed, so deal with it."

Fuck that's three.

FUCK
SHIT
PISS
DAMN
that's all of them

Hmmm... I believe that tomorrow I shall do absolutely nothing in an attempt to correct the damage I've done to my karma for wishing that a giant bird would appear and rip this puke's head off, eat it, then shit it back down his neck.

assface boogerbutt snothead bastardo monkeyfucker

Day Three - Retarded Time Flow

2006-02-23T19:09:00.000-06:00

Well, I'm not sure what has happened to day three. I woke up, went to work, and WHAM it was time to come home. That is always the best type of day (if you have to be at work). Time just flies by, then all of the sudden you realize that you don't have enough time left to get all those things done. The constantly changing perception of time's passing speed is fascinating. How can one person feel like the day is flying past, but the next person (who is just as busy) says that the day is taking forever. Maybe this isn't just a subjective observation, maybe we could measure it somehow... As an experiment, try the following.

Next time you feel like your day is dragging, ask around, find someone who's day is going quickly. Then, when their back is to you as they work on some retarded TPS reports or some other inane bullshit, sneak into their cubicle and sit quietly behind them. I theorize that the closer you get to them (without their knowledge), the more 'your' time will pass at the same speed as 'their' time. Of course, the ackwardness of you climbing onto the back of their chair and hanging over their shoulders may be a bit extreme, but it will make your day move faster! If the test subject becomes aware of your presence, the "time bubble" may be broken, at which point your day will resume it's normal draggin' ass pace. If, however, you can successfully penetrate the test subjects bubble without their knowledge (and keep from snickering too loudly), you may very well prove that time's speed isn't subjective, but shifting depending upon your position is space.

Once this is proven, you can go on to prove that up is down, in is pink, and you are me! Nobody has yet felt the need to publish the rules of this insane universe, so we've got to make up our own, individually, as the moment demands. This, of course, is the founding principal of Captain Cuckoo Banana-pants' (aka 'W') entire political modus operandi.

Ahhh, but it's too early in this whole blog-thing to start ranting about the nature of American politics...

Day dos of the Mighty Mighty Blog-tone

2006-02-22T19:06:00.000-06:00

The second day... hmmm. Well, God did some incredible shit on day two, separating the waters from the firmament and all. I think I shall do significantly less...

crashing into the wall of people at work, i arrive at their world within three small walls, the flourescent evil sucking the taste out of the day. i get it. do something. do something. do something. drink something. take something. do something. do something. call somebody. do something. piss away the hours, marking time.

marking time.
marking time. do something. do nothing. rather than parting the waters and the land i've parted myself from nine more hours i can never take back. nine more hours, irretrievably lost to causes that i wouldn't choose to die for, but causes that are, in fact, taking my life. nine hours at a time...strange that.

home again, home again, riggedy-jig
Blasting Bob Mould from the stereo to watch the four year old hooligan doing a fairly good slam-dance around the room is a decent finish to the day. Ahhhh. Whooda thunk.

Hello and This is Number One!

2006-02-21T19:23:00.000-06:00

Okay. So I'm starting a blog. This is probably Mindy's fault...

Seems like it may be an interesting way of spreading my particular brand of humor/insanity. Who knows. I'll probably delete this whole thing within a week. But, we'll see.

Let's see. Some fine, noble words of welcoming...

This is my site. These are my thoughts. These are my likes and dislikes. Consume with caution, a pint of Pepto may ease digestion. A thorough disregard for reality is prescribed, but who ever listens to their doctors... puff puff... wheeze... hack...

So, hopefully, this leaves you without a clue as to what will come. I know I don't know.