Believe me when I say that, originally, you weren't supposed to scream "Yahtzee!" when you triumphed at dice games but "Nazi!" instead -- perhaps when you achieved a snake-eyes kind of Fascism, throwing the venom of your palm into the air. And that, at first, you could opt for a Fascism at the Day Spa, you know, seeking to smoothe-over the defects in your maniacal allegiance, until you had to flat-out request a Facial, instead. If you try to debunk your Uncle, you'll get a Debuncle, if you try to carburate your Uncle, you'll get a Carbuncle, and if you try to monopolize your Uncle's attention, you'll get a Monocle. Skin blemishes over swaths of time could lead to Epoch Marks. But I digress. These days, with respect to our information economy, Megalomania just ain't enough Mania, you need something like Gigalomania, to get just enough Mania. Yeah, yeah, yeah: Cleveland and rivers: yeah, yeah, yeah. You can await the river all you like when you should probably abate the river, you know, get a crew, and a foreman, and have them sit around the tailgate by belching grease and ogling the Convenience Mart. 'Talegate' as in a scandal that accompanied a Yarn or 'Tailgate' as in a scandal that accompanied de Lay o' de Land? You take risk, tsk tsk, you take risk. One minute you're checking into a Bed & Breakfast, the next minute you're checking out: Period. As in Bled & Wake-fest. Optimize now, and we'll throw in four Gigs of Mania at no extra charge! Optimize now, and one of our customer service operatives will -- personally -- clap you on the Carbuncle! Bundle, Buncle, Whoa Back, Buckle.