Spelling counts.

Punctuation counts.

Nothing counts more than intelligence. According to me. Final arbiter. No appeals.

Never acknowledge an AC; not even when it's me.

Too much time on my hands, you say?

Lackey to the Imperium, you say?

Covered with lint and waiting for the Apocalypse, you are less likely to say?

Just to get the metaphors all lined up nice and neat...

OK, so we've entered Terra Incognita.

No more hugging the coast or plying the inland waterways.
It's time to spread the spinnaker, trim the top'sls, batten the hatches, and shiver the timbers.
And batten the hatches.
Again.
Don't want a buncha unbattened hatches laying around causing trouble.
Nosiree, me.