Sign off.
Okay, now where does the signature go? Ah, yes - the line which is dotted. Okay, okay. Right, now... where is that dotted line? Sure, sure... on the con tract, sure... Oh, hi blog-o-files (or perhaps merely ultra-patient Big Green -o-files). You're probably thinking you may have stumbled in on some kind of trade negotiation, perhaps the latest upgrade of NAFTA. Not so, though it is coercive, expropriative, and downright nasty, so I can understand the confusion. Yes, indeed... after several days (or was it weeks?) in the back of some grimy delivery van, bound and gagged by belligerent strangers, we arrived at our destination. T'was a strange and lifeless place, cold as the grave, its chalky brick facade crumbling beneath the groaning burden of decades of neglect and abandonment. This was the grim place our captors had intended for us to see when our blindfolds were removed. The abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill - just as I pictured it! I know what you're thinking. What the hell a...