Day 3 of my captivity. I don’t think I can last. Those of us held hostage to @Gugny‘s Birthday are growing weary. It’s not the food, accommodations or even the incessant whining that bothers us; it’s the aroma of smoked meats and cumin that sends most of us over the edge. I must keep my eyes forward and try to drown out the Nirvana and Beatles albums that play all night. These celebrations become overwhelming...not to mention the FatHead of Bill Buckner that is positioned at the entrance to the mess hall. Bastard. The only way to end this misery is for each of us to wish him Happy Birthday again until he turns the volume down. If there is a hell, I’m in it. Painfully yours, Ferguson