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Whatever you do, do it reasonably soon. In a scene right out of a bad, made-for-TV, Michael-Crichton-wannabe novel, that black cloud in the distance is every termite north of Richmond and East of Detroit heading straight for your backyard. Apparently one of the little bastards figured out how to log onto the Cellar and *GASP* they're text-messaging each other!
Then again, maybe not.
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