Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?

So I get to have my first-ever colonoscopy this week -- YEAH baby! It's totally no cause for concern (trust me on that or I'll have to reveal more information than even I want to know) but they just have to, you know, cover their asses. I write about it only because the preparations are fascinatingly detailed, sort of like a space shuttle launch. There's a step-by-step list of instructions like a NASA countdown: "At T-minus three days, start eating nothing but ulcer food... at T-minus 36 hours, chug somma this and gnaw on a fewa these." And this is the LESS embarrassing stuff. Once I get to the hospital, I'll probably have to pass an orange to the next player without using my hands or chin, sing "Shake Your Booty" by K.C. and the Sunshine Band, and perform an interpretive dance wearing only a snapless cotton robe and a miner's helmet. Fortunately, I'm already preparing in my own way. This is an unparalleled opportunity for witty humor and I'm not gonna miss my chance while I'm just lying there doing nothing. Gotta start memorizing some lines... Let's just hope no three-ton ceiling tiles fall on the "vehicle" while it's in there.