For centuries man has been beguiled by the hectoring phantom of his youthful injuries. Wherever he experiences injustice it is there in the wings, laughing its inevitable smirk. Is this a lazy, self-fulfilling prophecy? Was the Mayan scribe but a crankish fornicator of future generations’ chaos and ennui? The catastrophe reflects with these preliminary studies of an age obsessed with its own unknowable tormentors. Is the whale within or does it hover at the airport bars and bazaars? We can only say that it never took Ahab three and a half hours to board his vessel. However you slice it, Sam has a serious hard-on for mystery meat. And all of us so at sea! In any case, the sea and boots.