Exhibit 15.20

Possible Explanations for Why the Entire City of Lincoln Smells Like Maple & Brown Sugar Oatmeal This Morning

1. Maple & brown sugar oatmeal tanker truck accident (this would explain the quarantine, too)
2. What I'm actually smelling is my stroke
3. That one law
4. Lincoln got into some poison ivy
5. Tomorrow's rodeo at the event center is going to be the best rodeo ever

I'm out of explanations.

Exhibit 6.2

If I don't post for a few days, you should come look for me around the 13th floor of the building where I work. I'm either dead or I've become involved some kind of Murakami-esque world of danger and intrigue. I'm hoping for the latter.

The one good thing about walking the stairs every morning is that on the 5th floor of our building a life insurance company has decided to pump their waiting room music into the stairwell. As no one ever--ever--uses the stairs this is a puzzling decision. It's usually set to a local pop station, but every so often it's godless contemporary country or (godful?) classic rock. Sometimes I hit the floor when there's a commercial on and I have to spend the remaining 10 floors pondering whether or not I really am happy with my last oil change or if I should start going to Jiffy Lube.

This morning I heard the faintest sounds of Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" as I hit the 4th floor and was able to ride the rock momentum. Suddenly revitalized, I ran all the way to the 6th floor until the song, like the band itself, faded away and I realized, like the band itself, I might not survive the year.

Needless to say, the rest of the white, rock-less floors were profoundly disappointing after that.