Miss G. is still in denial about shaking in fear when the clock struck midnight and the clock showed that the first few seconds of 2000 were nothing to fear. She's still trying to sell the supplies she had in her bunker to survivalists in Montana.
What BC does not realize is that I am much smarter than I look.
You cannot slap on a fake beard and flannel shirt, then just ride in here on a busted ass donkey yelling, 'Yee-haw! Ya'll got any more of that canned meat, eh?' and expect that I would *not* it was you.