Pink ink is not a simian thing. Not that many a primate ain't nervous in the service of humankind. But what Monkey avoids admitting is that he's not a "carbon-based unit," as StarTrekkers tend-to-speak. He's an artificial non-lifeform.

But that has it's advantages. For example, he's not bound by time-space the way Homo sapiens are. In fact, truth be know, confessing for honesty's sake, and relinquishing the usual deniability, sometimes Monkey doesn't stick to strict chronology. You see, he's more Dr. Who than Mr. Spock.

When Opice says, "Today I..." he often means, "My webmaster represents this exploit as having happened today." Not that Monkey's that articulate. No way! It's just that, well, it takes time to create a webpage, to record events and translate them into coherent fabrications, not to mention distract from their insignificance with allegedly facetious audio-visuals. Monkey skittles around committing random acts of apeness faster than any human chronicler could ever hope to document, even if it were desirable to do so.

Believe me, Monkey thinks it very desirable to report on him. He's convinced he has an audience eager to visit his website--daily. "Fans" he calls them.

Well, I've a bit of "Fan(atic)" experience and fandom is a scary phenomenon which can lead to unpredictable outcomes. Ask any Sci-Fi celebrity who's attended a Con(vention). Fans will turn on you in a lightspeed nanosecond [Einstein's perspective not withstanding].

Therefore and thus, Monkey hopes this meandering dissertation introduces the notion, albeit obliquely, that, under some circumstances, conditions may have necessitated tweaking the when of who & what on Opice's website.

"I'm sure you understand," he admits. "It's not my fault."