The Curious Case of the Corrupt File

It was somewhere around 8 p.m. that I really started to lose my stuff. If you take your tongue, stick it through your teeth, clamp down a bit and blow, you will recreate the sound that I have been making for the past five hours...."PFFFFFFFFFFFFFTPT!"

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFTPT!"

"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFTPT!"

It is the lone sound that hasn't been a profane utterance that I have voiced since at least 6 p.m.

Aloha, Gang, Mark here. I am on hour number 15 of work on Monday, getting the PCN put to bed. It has been a long day, folks, and I am here to explain why the paper looks sort of different this week and...