As frequenters of this column know, I’m perpetually in search of some magical, spontaneousish income source, one that would finally offer me such luxurious fiscal freedom that I could wander into the forest for unfettered stays – occasioning out after dark to leap out of the shrubbery at vehicles zipping down pitch black sections of roadway between Chatsworth and New Gretna.

“Oh my god, Norm! Was that a Sasquatch?”