 Not metaphorically, literally walk next door for a cup of sugar. Mama would say, go over to Irene's. And she'd call with a phone that was connected to the wall. And Irene would meet little skinhead Dave with his shaved head at the front door. No, I wasn't a skinhead. I had a skinned head. I got you, Dave. Just be clear for you idiots out there on the Internet. But, you know, you're right. That's mad. That stuff, you don't.