Jazz meanders his way into the Con U. PC Lab, the new one, not the old
one, and brings up his email account.  'Oh boy, 148 messages.  Time to read.' 
Working his way through the list, Jazz soon came to an email concerning the
DTMFH.
     Looking at the list of authors who hadn't released something recently, a
look of slight disappointment crossed his forehead.  'I guess I'm just not
noteworthy enough...yet.' he thought with a shrug.  'Oh yeah, I better get back
to work on AT1 soon.'
     Deleting the email, Jazz continued to read on.  Three more emails dealing
with the prodding came to his attention.  Reading the first, Jazz shook his
head slowly.  'Ed ed ed, you should have known better to change this force
of...they aren't nature so they must be fanfic, with a shotgun.'
     Reading on, Jazz chuckled softly as the next one had Mouse transforming
the shotgun into something not easily used in combat.  'Oh well, yet another
has been added to the list.  May God have mercy upon your soul for the DTMFH
surely won't.'
     The third one had an author reveling in his obscurity.  'HEEHEE, not for
very much longer, grasshopper.'
     Finishing up with list, Jazz saw he had about 12 new messages.  Cuing them
up like a movie editor, Jazz tore into them.  Stopping short, Jazz saw a
response already to the email about being obscure.  'I canna take much more of
this, cap'n.  She's goona blow...'
     'Anime Traveler is actually starting to get a following.  It's been about
two weeks since I've added something to it.  oh boy.  maybe I better get to
work on it.'  Thinking over the DTMFH emails, Jazz sent up a silent prayer he
would remain undetected.  'After all, I've done work on AT2 and AT6 so far.'
     Suddenly a seldom used section of Jazz's mind reared up, remembering the
emails with defiance.  It seemed to hope the DTMFH would come after him.  That
section of his mind, the id, started planning.  Putting the American Sailor
Moon soundtrack into it's CD player and picking up a plunger and wooden mallet,
it sneered at Mouse.  "I dare you to come after me, a master of the school of
Tim-Taylor-School-of-Undestructive-Martial-Arts-And-Indiscriminate-Tool-Use. 
BWHAHAHAHAHA."
     The ego and super-ego sections of Jazz's mind reasserted themselves with
twin mallet smashes to the id.  Both silently hoped the id hadn't gotten Jazz
noticed by the DTMFH.
     Jazz turned off the computer and headed home as the sun started to peek
through on the horizon.  'Working the permenant 3rd shift sucks' thought Jazz,
driving into the heart of Chicago.  He couldn't shake the feelign that his 'id'
had done something nasty.

Jazz
"It's not retreat.  It's a strategic advance to the rear."

p.s. And yes, I have worked up the Tim Taylor School of Undestructive martial
Arts and Indiscriminate Tool Use for an RPG group I game with.  There are four
seperate schools available, so be afraid.