Tuna Tom’s my name.  You may have heard of me.  I was the “Tuna Tom.”  Well, I mean, that isn’t really my name, but who’s going to buy a sandwich from somebody named Phil?  Back in the early ‘70s I started a chain of restaurants that sold tuna sandwiches.  You know, with wheat or white bread, toasted or untoasted – you throw in a piece of lettuce – you got a lot of choices.  It came with a pickle, too.  Not just a piece of one.  We’re talkin’ the whole thing.  And not those little ones, either.  Kosher Dill.  But only the pickles.  The rest of the place wasn’t certified kosher.  That’s a lot of work.  Everybody told me that nobody would want to pay for something out that they could just as easily make at home.  I was determined to prove them wrong.  And I did.  We had restaurants throughout the Northwest and was spreading into Idaho and Montana.  Then one day, everybody suddenly got tired of tuna sandwiches.  Either that, or it suddenly dawned on the morons that they could make the same thing at home but wouldn’t have to choke down an entire pickle.  In a way, it was a relief to be done with the business.  The most disappointing thing, though, is finding out that booze, women, and sports cars weren’t sound financial investments.  Never hire a broker who drives a car you can’t pronounce.  So now?  Now I drive a bus.  It’s a tour bus for OMG Tours.  I don’t own the company.  It’s better that way.  More of a profit margin and there’s fewer law suits.  We specialize in natural disasters.  We take groups to things like oil spills, floods, and forest fires.  I think there’ll be a big demand once we figure out how to book ahead.