The three items I have in my pocket are my "cue", my hand, and an industrial size vat of vaseline.
Or, presuming my goal is not to pleasure myself to death on a desert island, my trusy leatherman, a solar powered emergency transponder, and a large plastic trash bag. "But why the trash bag?", you ask. A free obsequious quote to the first person to tell me [EDIT: correctly].
And yes, I am indeed flatulent enough to wear the title. I cleared out my own damn wedding for Christ's sake. That, and until Illia adds "the Superfluous" to the list of my choices, I shall remain "the Flatulent".
Edited, Fri Jan 9 13:09:34 2004 by MoebiusLord
I had a very witty signature once, but apparently it offended the sensibilities of some of the frailer constitutions that frequent this particular internet message board.
[The rest of this message has been censored and I can't tell you what I actually think of you]