Hell, I haven't been back to Myrtle since Black Biker Week 2011, pard. Myrtle, and everything in it, can go right on ahead and slide into the Atlantic Sea for all I give a rat's meow regardin'. Plus, last time in Myrtle, I came back with a burnin' sensation in my nethers that felt as though I was passin' a razor blade each time I endeavored to take a number one. Dr. Dilatory smeared some tar like substance on a giant q-tip, and applied it to the internal affected area. It was gone within a few days, but I still get a touch of the sensation when someone mentions Myrtle.