Had a dinner earlier in the week this bad-ass hombre (and fellow Ironman France competitor). I'll avoid mentioning his name because of his classified/military/G2 status, but had a great time hanging out and talking to him. Clearly he'd graduated from the CIA's "how to smuggle alcohol using your stomach without getting drunk" secret-agent course and drank me way under the table (4 bottles of wine and a couple cocktails at three or four different Ossington haunts), I take comfort in knowing that at the very least I finished off that little silver bowl full of sliced birds eye chilies. (Crack, I tell you!) Great guy, though, and he tolerated more than enough 'absence of free-will', Cartesian dualism and solipsism soliloquies. He must have not seen where the exit door was.