“Hello Mr. Porfirio? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about your work and life as an illustrator.” “Fire away!” (Thought bubble), “I’ve got this guy right where I want him–heh heh heh.” I’m always in control. Unless, of course, I’m feeling a little stress, uncomfortable, in the middle of a high fever, or under anesthesia. Other than that, I’m solid, a regular secret agent man. “What’s that? The plans for the new inter-planetary space transporter? Sure thing; behind the credenza– top left hand side–hidden panel. Tap it three times and slide it to the right. Here’s the key. Just leave it under the mat on your way out.” I’m pretty sure I told this unsuspecting reporter my shoe size. Not that he or the reading public needed to know that bit of information or even what my favorite pizza toppings are for that matter, sausage, onions, and green peppers just in case your wondering. See what I mean? But for some reason, that came out too. Ask me no questions and I tell you no lies, but if you do ask me a question I’ll start at the beginning.