Anyone who follows this blog knows that Dr. Research has as one of his Life Goals running me down with a luxury automobile. And yet, here I find myself in the bosom of his dysfunctional family on Christmas Day. Even a cursory examination of these would-be perps reveals that they're barely able to maintain the illusion of sanity and harmlessness. The malevolence directed at me is palpable--not that I would ever palp it. I guess it's my penchant for living on the edge that leads me into these situations. This year, it was either dinner at Doc's or the Gorilla Prostate Exam, and I was compelled to opt for the more dangerous scenario. Which would be worse, to be on the giving or receiving end of a Gorilla Prostate Exam? I haven't thought that one through yet. Either way, the end result would be being pummeled to within an inch of my life. But consider this: what if I'm already within a half inch of my life--which it sometimes feels like I am--then it would actually be healthy for me to be thus pummeled! Wouldn't it? But instead of taking the path to good health, I'm sitting in the midst of this homicidal maniac support group. I mean, look at that guy on the right. It's pretty clear he'd just as soon garrotte me as look at me. And that guy with the Airedale on his lap? Know what he's doing with his right hand? Fishing for the keys to his Range Rover, that's what.