 Alright, alright. I wrote you guys a little poem. There comes a time, but once a year, where people come to meet their friends of old and friends of new upon a Portland street. We mingle and we hug and we rejoice in this occasion, for all of us have come together for this grand celebration. A year has passed since conference last, and what a year it's been. We have taken many senses and put them in deprivation. The people have been floating in numbers since unknown. The inner space they once ignored, they have now been shown. The world is now a calmer place than it has been in past. People hop into these tanks and become less of an ass. It's thanks to us, the members of this floating congregation that rest and joy and pain relief are sweeping all the nations. We're bigger and we're stronger than we've ever been before. These times will be known by all in legends and in lore, for it is now that floating is rising high above the clouds. It's no longer just the weirdos, it's the masses and the crowds. And it's up to us, the humble folks here in this room, to usher and to nurture this as it begins to bloom. And it is with that purpose that we gather once a year to be a strong community and strengthen our future. So take this time that you are here to teach and to be taught, and know that you are here with friends, whether you've met them yet or not. I should conclude this poem of mine, forehead has grown in its circumference. So welcome, welcome one and all to this year's grand float conference. Conference is a really difficult word to find a rhyme for.