is that you can't really appreciate the depth of tension, we who are sickos, experience over making decisions, at least ones that will likely lead to our ultimate demise. I noticed my 30 inch dia 80 ft high oak crying out to me a few weeks ago. Many limbs were naked. I realized it was hoping I would take her down before she rotted out. Today, as I was finishing my notch, my sweetie pie, Stihl 660, began to tear into the old girl's fibers like butter. "Uh oh! Feels like she rotted out inside." Indeedy! Upon removing the wedge, I got a good look-see. She was gutted. A rim of about 7 to 8 inches of solid wood forming a thick ring around her perimeter is all she's got left. For many of you boys you would call it a day and leave her alone, move along, sing a song, right? Right! For wackos like me, I grit my teeth and take this challenge as the ultimate test of my manhood. Even if it is the most dangerous type of tree felling out there, to me she simply must come down, right now, by my hand. The ulcerating tension swells inside because, while I'm completely out of my mind, I'm not really crazy about dying, especially when there will be vast amounts of unbridled pain involved. If you can talk me out of this, please do, but hurry. If you don't hear from me again, my stereo, my old chair and three packs of unchewed Red-Man are all yours.