 You know, that's quite a brash statement, coming from a man whose voice sounds as though he gargles with chem-tone. Touché, preacher, touché. But to smooth your ruffle feathers, my little cockatoo, I have a bit of a Christmas gift here for you. It's a music box. Oh, thank you. I say, it's a beautiful music box. That's nothing. Wait till you lift the lid and hear what it plays. All right, sir, I'll lift it.