Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No!It's UppityWoman, streaking across the sky, on her Botticelli shell, clad only in the patina of her skin.
Suddenly, her intuitional antennae detect, at groundzero, the machinations of the evil Dr. Fixgame, intent upon devising another fixed game for men.
Quick as a quickie, UppityWoman swoops beside him.
Pointing her peremptory teacher's finger, she transmogrifies him -- until the next channelling -- into dried whisker shavings on the rim of a discarded sink in a junkyard.
Then, "Up! Up! And away!"
Another one-up for UppityWoman!