It's like a commercial generator imploding under water. Like a full symphony orchestra packed into a double wide trailer playing. And then not. Like waking up in a well lit room with the florescent bulbs buzzing around your eyes and ears. How the hell did I get here? I was trying to log into my email to send my good buddy Gibbs a book recommendation. "The Royal Family of Afghanistan: A Portrait of the Last Truly Nomadic Pashtun Tribe in Afghanistan." It's a good book. I should know. I am the principle editor in the English. It's written by Yusuf Madi, the youngest son of the Nahendra Madi (Deputy Minister of Communications and Media under the now ousted President Ghani, the last President of the defunct Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, and Founder of BBC Pashtun. Not a lightweight.) But I'm not sending that email at all. It appears as if I have inadvertently logged into a personal website of someone whom I do not yet know. The Perfect Fucking Life. I'll do no harm, but say, "Life is a long hallway filled with backwards looking ghosts. The trick is to get out in front of life, out in front of the long light rays of time, out in the clear where you can look up and see Jesus walking where ghosts fear to tread.... Is everybody in?" Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dave Wright. I am a Leader of Men.