Shagnasty's April 2001 "The POC"
Issue Thirteen (13)	Release Date: 1st April 2001		© PenisOwner.com 1996-2001
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A note from your Editor, Shagnasty:

Greetings once again my brothers and only friends, and whoopee I'm a year old. Yes this the 13th issue of The POC marks a year in the service of all that is silly and generally frivolous. The POC has undergone some changes since it started, remember the first issue, I do. I have a great deal of fun and frustration in equal measure writing this thing each month and without doubt the best part is the numerous mails that I get from you motley mob, err, sorry, I mean you well informed and discerning readers. The mailing list is now best described as...big, and growing, you spread the word well my friends.
Thanks.

Your regular contributors, as always are: -

Shagnasty	Demonic Dave	Tangent Man
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Enjoy!

So you want to be British eh?: Part II in the series describing all the wonderful things being British is about. Enjoy you foreign types.

Shagnasty's Rant: Mother of God, they're doing it to the planes now!

A quick geography lesson for President Bush.: I feel he may need one you know!

Penis Stuff from around the world: I suppose it had to be England's turn eventually.

Demonic's Religious Comment: Lets clone Jesus. We can all have one then.

Tangent Man: I overheard Tangent and Demonic Talking. Demonic asked Tangent if he fancied a Shag. The transcript of his answer is detailed!!

Shagnasty's Stag Report: It all went without a hitch, The POC Crew unleashed.

Penis File: This months Penis File displays all too graphically the devastating effects of mixing Viagra and steroids. Be warned!

Shagnasty appeals to the US: The absence of any British Superheroes is narking me this month.

Sponsors: Another name for advertisements people, well you can't blame me for trying can you?

This Space for rent!: Want to submit a section, then write in why don't ya?

Readers Feedback: Your comments in print.

Monthly thought: -

Don't!

Celebration Blast
29.03.2001
Today in the UK is national cleavage day.
(Damn, I live in a fine country indeed)

Shagnasty's Righteous Rant

Sorry people but it's got to be done. "Look out below!"

Regular readers will be aware that my government's decision a few years back to privatise the British Rail system is not the most popular thing with me. Call me old fashioned but it's mainly the fact they they don't run on time, when they run at all, and the staff are in the main surly unhelpful gits. But most of all I suppose it's their tendency to slam into each other killing their passengers. Not the best selling point for any transport system I think that you will agree.
Now, living in a city which has overhead, at any one time, literally dozens or wide-body jets, and being a regular passenger on them also, you might not be too surprised to discover that I'm not impressed with the governments decision to privatise the Air Traffic Control Service. Oh no.
Even if we ignore my own obviously invaluable opinion on this matter the fact that the airlines, pilots and current ATC service were all dead against this move on safety grounds also seems to be irrelevant.
I don't want much from air travel but one thing that I know I don't want is the ability to read the newspaper being held in the hands of the guy on the plane next to mine as they try to cram more and more aircraft into the same piece of sky. When vehicles touch the drivers exit, exchange abuse, exchange insurance details and then go on their way. When aircraft touch however all I'll want to exchange is my shorts, for the last few moments of my life anyway. Hey, if you gotta go, go comfy I say.

Got a rant of your own? Back to Index

Shagnasty's Presidential Geography Lesson

On speaking with the German Chancellor on CO2 emissions and the Kyoto Deal,
President Bush said: -"The American People Had To Come First."
Which roughly translated into English means "bugger off, I've changed my mind and won't sign up. Even though I said I would whilst campaigning for election."

You cant argue with that, it's his job after all.
But wait, he may be missing one small point...

A = America (Your Bit!)
B = The Rest of Us

Dear Mr Bush
If all of "B" is residing under water following the melting of the polar ice caps due to "A's" desire not to make even a little effort to reduce CO2 emissions "A" will not fare too well, will it. After all who will consume your movies, burgers and other national treasures.
Just a thought, but I might suggest that it is actually in "A's" best interest to ensure that all of "B" isn't wholly and totally pissed off with "A".

Like I say: - "Just a though."

Shagnasty

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Sad Blast
27.03.2001
It's a year since the mighty Ian Dury died.
Blockheads-R-Us.

International Penises

Johnson jug
The Museum of London acquires a penis-shaped cup for its collection of 18th century pornographic objects.

- - - - - - - - - - - -
By Jack Boulware

England is responsible for introducing the world to spotted dick, a shredded-suet pudding of dubious nutritional value. Last week the Museum of London unveiled another dick-related item, a 300-year-old drinking cup shaped like a penis.

The distinctive "drinking penis" was discovered recently by archaeologists during excavation in a London cesspit, according to a Reuters report. Field archaeologist Ruth Panes admitted she received "a bit of a shock" when she came upon the cup and then burst into laughter when she noticed the artefact's obviously phallic nature. Her shock may have been compounded by the fact that the tin-glazed earthenware object measures approximately six-and-a-half inches long -- about the size of an average erect penis.

Quick-thinking minds whisked the Johnson jug to the Museum of London, which cleverly put the item on display on Valentine's Day, for art lovers of all nations to admire. Once museum goers have had their fill of the drinking penis, it will join a collection of 18th century pornographic tiles.

"A small cup above the testicles suggests that the vessel was used to contain liquid, possibly wine, beer or ale," reads a sober statement by the museum. "Phallic objects were common in the Roman and Medieval periods but this is the only known tin-glazed example of early modern date."

Museum officials did not speculate about why the cup may have been crafted or what sort of penis-themed rituals may have been enacted. Perhaps soldiers guzzled ale from the dick after a long day of battle. It may have been used as an adjunct to wedding ceremonies. Or the penis could have been suckled by members of British royalty. (It surely wouldn't be the first time the trembling lips of the nation's leaders had been acquainted with fellatio.)

Art connoisseurs will undoubtedly take heart in the fact that, according to the museum, the phallus receptacle is "rendered with exact anatomical precision.

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Demonic Dave's Religious Comment.

"Lets Clone Jesus!"
We live in an imperfect world don't we. Full of sin with Armageddon surely on its way. The Lord helps those who help themselves they say, so lets help ourselves to him!

Demonic operates outside of the control of the POC, he alone is responsible for his comments.

THE SHROUD OF TURIN
Thanks to advances in science we can take DNA samples from the shroud and use them to clone the second coming !
This is fantastic, but to stop here would be blasphemy.
Friends, we should clone a Jesus for anyone who wants one. Why, any woman that wanted to could immaculately conceive Jesus.
No more communicating with God through your pastor or priest. If you have a question for God you could just call home and ask him.
Just imagine a world with a Jesus in every household. Sounds like heaven to me. I urge you to tell your friends and neighbours about Jesus. No need to be greedy, they can have one too. Praise Jesus, the lamb of God .
A-bloody-men .

Click Here for "Demonic Wear"© range of clothing and merchandise.
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Tangent Man
[SN: - I overheard Tangent and Demonic talking the other night. Demonic asked Tangent if he fancied a Shag. He replied....]
Let me answer you in terms that you will understand Dave. God is a point of mass, centred at the origin of our xyz space. Christ, we will assume, is at the right hand of God, or about 100 centimetres away. His mass is probably around 75 kilograms. Since God has a very large mass (a bit less than infinity), Christ, who we will assume is in a circular orbit around God, has a very large momentum, and hence has a very small wavelength. This means that Christ's uncertainty is quite small, so we can therefore conclude that he is fairly certain in all that he does. Now let us consider a sinner. We shall place him at a large distance from God, say one inch and 45 million light-years. He, also being in a circular orbit, will be travelling significantly slower than Christ, and will therefore be more uncertain about it. One should also consider, however, that since Christ's orbit could fit in a kiddie pool, while the sinner's would encompass not only our galaxy, but a few of the nearby ones as well, that the sinner gets around more, sees more, and is generally a more knowledgeable guy than the Savior.
This fits in with traditional wisdom. From this situation we can draw a few conclusions. The first is that Mary, the Mother of God, being a fairly pure person is close to God. This means that she must be a fast woman. The second conclusion that can be drawn is that sinners have a lot more potential than saints, since less of their energy is stored as kinetic energy. Further insights can be gained when we look at the situation of the Heathen. A heathen, like you, is someone who is not affected by God. This means that they are at least an infinite distance from Him. Now, assuming that one of these folks starts to travel towards God, he will convert his potential energy to kinetic energy during the approach, or descent. Since he started out an infinite distance away, but with some kinetic energy of his own, he will approach God on a hyperbolic trajectory and then disappear into space, never to be seen again. If his approach is such that it brings him inside the orbit of the Son of God, then right after his closest approach, the sinner's velocity will be greater than Jesus', which means that he will be more sure of himself in his escape than Christ is in orbit. This is an interesting notion, but some of the side ramifications are even more intriguing. Without any orbiters, therefore, God would not be able to attract anyone -- all approaching bodies would have either parabolic or hyperbolic trajectories. However, once God has an orbiter, the two of them could collaborate to capture other bodies. This means that heathens that get too close to believers in their approaches might get trapped, and by the same token, believers who are buzzed by heathens could be ejected. And what, you may ask, does any of this have to do with sex? Well, the answer is this: sex, as we all know, is the union of two or more people. This, in our analogy, would be represented as a collision. Now, in Christianity, almost all of the holy figures are male. For God, a collision between any of these would be disastrous, because, even if we assume they are indestructible, such a high energy collision would: * eject one of the men in it, * cause one of them to fall into God, * or, give them highly irregular elliptical orbits. All of these would be bad for God, because in the first two cases He would lose orbiters, making His chance at capturing new ones less, and in the third case He would have a much greater chance of more collisions, as the elliptical orbiters would cross many of the unaffected circular orbits. Therefore, God probably disapproves of these collisions, so No I don't fancy a Shag. [SN: - It was at this point that Demonic began repeatedly punching Tangent for using the word God too often in the space of five minutes.]
Got a question for the Tangent Man? - Click here to ask it. Click Here for "Tangent Wear"© range of clothing and merchandise.

Take a collection of gentlemen, all of whom have received reasonable education, indeed some of whom attended the finest schools in the country. All work for a living holding responsible positions, providing for their families and generally going about their daily lives in a law abiding and respectful manner.
Take these people, say 16 in total, place them in a mini-bus and label the journey a "stag-do" and you are guaranteed public urination and vomiting, rowdy and uncouth behaviour, endless disrespect for all that they meet, nudity, childish giggling, excessive drinking and or smoking and bad dress sense. During the course of the day and on into the night they commence a decent into depravity of such a horrific nature that it makes Dante's Inferno seem like a travel guide.

This people, is the British Stag-Do, magnificent!

Or more specifically this is the stag do that I, Tangent Man, Demonic Dave and Filth McNasty attended last month. The event was being held in honour (or mourning depending on your view point) of James who is getting married soon. Other than the POC contingent in attendance were James, obviously, my brother who was dressed alarmingly like a member of some sickly boy band, Cavey, a Scotsman, an Irish man and a collection of other individuals some of whom I knew others I didn't, but do now!

The day commenced with a mini-bus drive into the British countryside, which other than a debate in the morning revolving around my refusing to walk to the bus, was uneventful. Hey, isn't that what a bloody bus is for?
We were driven by a nice man, who I knew would soon come to hate us all, but nevertheless he delivered us safe and sound to the location of our chosen morning activity, shooting things! Now I am aware that some of the readers will be from America where shooting things is a daily activity and holds no fascination for you but here in the UK we don't do a lot of that sort of thing, so the novelty remains. Indeed most of our party had never held a gun in their lives, myself included.

Acutely aware that Demonic Dave was amidst our ranks I entered the shooting place with some trepidation to be greeted by a rather rustic looking chap who was immediately transfixed by my dark shades. I think that he found the sight of someone wearing dark shades so early in the morning, and indoors, unusual. He clearly failed to appreciate that it was for these very reasons that they were being worn in the first place. Silly man!

"Oh, I Like the porn star shades" he said.
"That's nothing mate, you should see my cock" was the reply that accompanied my broad grin and furiously wriggling eyebrows.

The tone of the day had been set, and I felt proud that of the 16 of us, it had been I that had struck the first blow.

Clay pigeon shooting was fun, even though we were all kind' a crap at it with one or two notable exceptions. It has to be said though that awards and acknowledgement in the following categories are due: -

Best Shooter: - James. (Not the Stag James, he was shit, this is another guy of the same name.) The proficiency displayed by James in fact did not impress me but rather caused me to have concerns as to where he might have developed such skills. I made a mental note to ring Special Branch on my return to London.
Best shouter of the word "Pull": - Demonic Dave. Dave issued forth his "Pull" with a command and a level of confidence that could only be attained after years of practice. The fact that he too has never been shooting before leaves me to but wonder to whom in his private world he shouts pull and to what he may be referring.
Worst Shouter of "Pull": - Without rival Cavie, known to his mother as Simon. Cavie managed to dribble "Pull" from his lips like Snagglepus, it's frankly a miracle that the clays flew at all and didn't just drop from the machine saying "Pardon mate, what was that, did you say something?" His inability to utter this simple phrase had a terrible effect on his shooting also as with each feeble attempt 15 blokes behind him would burst into uncontrollable laughter and manic ridicule, which he claims put him off. I laughed so much at one point that I had to wipe the tears from my shades. Yes, I was still wearing them.

Ok, things having been shot at, and in the most part missed we were on the move. Mind you there are a few trees in those woods that won't forget the day that Shagnasty came'a'callin with his shotgun I can tell you.

On to the next activity, Go-Karting, via a pub of course. Wouldn't want to operate anything with an engine without some

beer inside us now would we. Being held in a disused warehouse the go-karting wasn't bad at all, a reasonable track, acceptable karts and rather snug fitting overalls being provided we were a happy bunch. After a lecture from the guy running the establishment and a walk around the track discussing safety and track rules I think that he found us all to be - well arseholes really. I think that was the word that he used.

I'm told after the event that there was some sort of points system in use during the karting event, I can't say that I noticed. I was far too preoccupied with watching Filth McNasty who appeared to have mistaken go-karting with the lads for his first driving test. He dawdled around the track at a sedate 10-15Mph looking disapprovingly at those who rushed past him. The word "Granny" is an insult to all senior citizens who hold a license.

Demonic Dave had never held a steering wheel in his life, normally being one of four horsemen I suspect, with the inevitable consequences. Tangent Man protested that the mass ratio sub-equation of his fuel tank in relation to the thrust and force generation potential of the combustion device were not sufficient to produce the required forward velocity. In other words, his belly was too bloody big for the go-cart to drag around the track at any speed.

Awards for go-karting are as follows: -
Hardest braking on corners: - Tangent Man. Tangent insisted on stamping on his brakes on entering every corner.
Hardest Rear-End ram: - Shagnasty into Tangent. See above!
Driving like a bloody girl: - Filth McNasty

Oh yeah James won by the way.
(Picture: - You've heard of The Right Stuff? Behold, The Collection of Crap!)

The karting done it's back to the mini-bus for the drive back to town. This should have been a simple journey

where we all caught a bit of rest, oh no, not on our mini-bus. We decided to generate large volumes of steam from under the bonnet and then come to a halt on the side of a bloody steep motorway where other vehicles charged past us speeds well in excess of 80-90Mph. After a strange debate in which some of our party actually wanted to remain within the sardine tin like death-trap that our bus had become, those sat at the back, myself included, eventually won the day. I learnt that my powers of persuasion increase significantly when the chances of having some bloody car collide with my butt do likewise.

We decided that the best course of action would be to make the driver run up the motorway dancing between the racing cars in search of water, and as there were 16 of us, he agreed. Eventually returning alive and possessing fluids we moved on. Demonic managed to find an animals skull whist we were waiting for the water, which impressed us all. Knowing him better than most I suspect that he may have had it with him all the time, but I can't prove it.

Ablutions were conducted in record time with shits, showers and shaves all being completed in record time ready for the night out. My brother's boy band image took more than his allotted time but as Tangent stated that he "required no external attention" and therefore took no time at all, it all evened out in the end.

Another mini-bus ride to Dartmouth and our nominated eating-house. Food was good; we had a private room allotted to us to keep us away from the other diners, and with the exception of one poor chap who we noted had a comedy beard segregation was maintained to the benefit of all concerned. After dinner entertainment was provided by one of our party who demonstrated some strange deformity on his arm, which was essentially a wart like growth that he was able to move, lovely eh. The eating done we tipped the poor suffering waitress well, all except Cavie that is, may the fleas of a thousand camels infest his armpits, the tight bugger, and we moved to the bar.

In the bar the English skill known as the Yard-Of-Ale was admirably demonstrated by James. This involves drinking from a large glass tube with a bowl located at the bottom. The design is such that done correctly the beer will, at one point; rush

down the tube and up both nostrils of the drinker. James didn't disappoint and his conk was soon awash with fizzy fluids. Great!

Several beers and several moonies (the great British tradition of showing another person your bare arse) later we were again on the move, this time to someone's home, the fool. En route a quick stop at a public lavatory, otherwise described as "a wall".

Arriving at the house more drinking commences and a decent into slow motion begins with all becoming less and less active, this is conversely accompanied with the talking of more and more shit. There was a point however when it was discovered that one amongst us was what we call a "Sweaty Sock" a Jock, a Scotsman no less. Nobody is really certain how he managed to infiltrate our ranks but once exposed we took immediate action in the form of a close-range fart into his sleeping head. Most appropriate I think you will agree.

It is at this point that I find myself unable to continue as my own personal recollection of events wanes, indeed my last memory is the image below being that of Tangent and Demonic and some bloody big dog that I don't recall having come with us. Looking at it now I cant decide if its post coital or if Demonic is attempting

some form of Vulcan mind meld with the K9. Either way I find it as disturbing now as I did then. I think it's the reason that my mind and body elected to go into stand-by, not rebooting until the next day.

Roll on the next outing I say, as it was indeed fun.

(Note: - The picture of Tangent and Demonic has not been altered. Tangent is often found to be somewhat out-of-phase with the rest of the world, and Demonic, well, he just looks like that! Sorry!)

(I guess you had to be there to fully appreciate some of it)

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Shagnasty's Penis File/Picture Of The Month

Oh dear, in the everlasting pursuit of the perfect body and the tackle to go with it some men just don't know when to stop do they. As a lesson to any who may be treading this path as I type let this months Penis File be a warning.

"Ye Gods man ~ Enough already!"
Warning! Whilst the files and images in this section are intended for amusement and cannot really be described as pornography, some contain, lets face it, a penis. If you think that you might be offended, “don’t look Ethel”. It’s that simple.

Previous months penis files are here.

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Superheroes
Comic Superheroes, quite simply in the US you've got them coming out of your arse. The UK? We've got bugger all. Well, that's not strictly true; we do have some, but sweet Mary, Jesus and Keith there not really in the same league at all.
To compare the comic characters that you grew up with to those that accompanied me through my childhood (which may actually explain a few things now I think about it!) you have to look first of all at what makes someone a superhero, as far as I can tell there are three main areas: - Costume. What's a superhero without a snazzy costume after all? If you can get past the fact that some have a terrible desire to wear their underpants on the outside they look damn cool. OK I have to admit that Plastic Man (DC Comics) looks like a bit of a dandy but whilst I wouldn't want to attend a job interview in Batman's costume when it comes to swinging through the night righting wrongs they just don't come any better. We on the other hand have Desperate Dan, desperate for a bloody shave if you ask me. And what's the deal with that hat, he looks like he's slept in the bloody thing for a year. The other main area of Superhero-dom is the "special ability", and here of course the UK once again fails miserably. Even in the US it's normally something fairly run-of-the-mill like flying or super strength. A few however really push the boat out, a magic green ring, spider sense, or even being able fly about on a frozen surf board. What has the UK got, well, um, lets see. Desperate Dan has the ability to eat a whole cow in one go, quite how that will assist humanity I don't really see. Dennis the Menace could take your eye out with a catapult, Roger Mellee - "the man on telly" can issue forth profanity that would make Satan wince whilst Lord Snooty and his Pals are able to recite various works of literature. In short English comic book characters are a collection of deformed, odd looking, socially deviant, misfits. None of whom do any "saving the world" type of stuff at all. The bravest thing they might attempt is bunking a day off school.	Plastic Man! Ok, so there's always an exception to every rule! Desperate Dan
Desperate Dan's cow pie eating skills have, to the best of my knowledge, never extinguished any forest fires, nor have they rescued a falling helicopter or the hapless pedestrians watching it fall towards them. Lastly there are some physical attributes that might make them Super. In the US it could be the ability to stretch your arms a quarter of a mile, transform into a green hulk so you may kick butt with greater efficiency, or perhaps catch yourself alight and fly around like a crazed firework, although I've never really understood how that helped him fight crime?, but there you go. In the UK, good grief it pains me to even say it, we have "Buster Gonad and his unfeasibly large testicles." Once again, as with many other small but important things the UK has missed the mark somewhat, I don't get to grow up admiring the high moral values of Supergirl, no, I get to read of the exploits of Dan Dare, Pilot of the future. I ask you, looking at the pictures below, whom do you want to be saved by, the Brit or the Yank? Yeah, I thought so, me too!

Shagnasty's Guide to all that's British Part Two! There are a few things that are uniquely and forever British, and we love em. To aid you in your quest to be one of the elite, bone up on the following, learn to appreciate the finer qualities of British life, just like we do. Read the last installment now! (Warning: The following contains very British things described in a very British language. For those of you who don't have English as a first language (i.e. Americans) I offer an e-mail service at the bottom for your questions.)
Toilets Our invention, by an Englishman, the classic Brit toilet remains alive an well despite Brussels attempt to force upon us the sub-standard Euro model.		British Bands & Music The Beatles, Stones, Who, Kinks, Jam, Free, Clapton, T-Rex, Bowie, Pistols, Clash, Stranglers, Madness, Specials, Black Lace and Ian Dury & The Blockheads. Need I say more?
Depth of Abuse Even the stupidest man in the country is able to offend at will, and for purely personal reasons, anyone from overseas in a manner likely to cause the utmost offence. The French are our preferred target of course.	Youth Culture Mods, Rockers, Teds, Skinheads, ravers, hippies, crusties, rockabillies and punks. You can even send your relatives postcards with punks giving the finger.	Religious Background Henry VIII, starting a never-ending war in a bid to get laid once more. Brilliant. Even though the Pope seems a nice fella, no offence mate!	British Films Get Carter, The Long Good Friday, Rita Sue & Bob Too, Scum, basically anything made in the 60's or 70's. Carry-on, busty birds, jokes about farting and sexual innuendo - now that's art.
		Bodily Functions We've mastered the art of fart.
British Football Every other league tries to compete with our image, songs, and capacity for recreational Sunday teatime violence. The debatable failure of our home sides to win anything since the very recent 1966 World Cup win is clearly down to our superior style, oh yeah and sportsmanship as this picture clearly shows!		Our Road System Our only straight roads were built 2000 years ago. Since then it's made more sense to build spaghetti-shaped highways that add 30 miles to any journey. Our roads are so narrow that a one-legged-man can jump over them when they're busy.
Comedy We reign supreme, no one argues with that. Fawlty Towers, Young Ones, Morecambe & Wise, Vic & Bob, Only Fools & Horses, Are You Being Served, Bottom, Operation Good Guys, Open All Hours, Dad's Army, Chris Morris, Shagnasty, Ali G, Rentaghost, Button Moon, Grange Hill. I could go on, but I'd just be Carrying On. (Carrying on...Get it?)		Perverted Britain Few but the British could manage such an act of blatant prudery on the outside whilst being so demonically depraved behind closed doors. Flashing, dirty old men, spanking MP's and a whole host of decidedly dodgy public school games, which involve the use of a young boy affectionately referred to as "The Fag."
Bugger All TV Channels Our lack of stations ensures we get the best TV, unlike the gobshite crap you get abroad. Half of foreign telly is dubbed UK shows anyway.	Cross-Channel Ferries A pub, casino, car park, nightclub, shopping mall, and restaurant, all in one vomit friendly wipe-clean vessel.	Summer Festivals Only we Brits could possibly love living in a field, up to our arses in mud in the pissing rain, while squinting at some overpaid boy band and smoking spliffs, surrounded by crusties wearing those silly bollocks hats for a whole weekend… and listening to posh birds in dreadlocks complaining that there chakras are not in line.
Architecture Some of our buildings are older than other people's countries. With security guards to match.	Our Love of Life The lowest suicide rate in the western world. [fact]. Well pass on the rope, thanksallthesame.
Giros Without these little green beauties, the Post Office would either be boarded up or forced into a futile attempt to sell stamps. Once every two weeks the postie is more popular than air itself, and for one day only you're cashed-up. Two cans of beans, 12 packs of Rizla and 25 pints of lager later its time to get some more chrome for the Vespa, then you've got £1.80 to last you for the next two weeks. Shouldn't be a problem, after all you have bought everything that you need!		Camp Englishmen Grayson, Inman, Clary and Winton. Our long tradition of sexually explicit celebrities is a source of pride. [Thundering Poofta'. But we love him)
Don't understand a bloody word of it, need to ask a question. Yes Back to Index