Introduction By Brian Feeney Raise your hand if you know Ruth Roach. Now raise your hand if you know Isabella Roach. You can't see me, of course, but my hand went up with the second crowd. Some of you have known her a long time and are now sitting there with both your hands above your head. That is silly. You can put them down now. I met Isabella in an English class. The next year, we met again in another English class. The next semester, another meeting, another English class. (We do other things, by the way, than attend English classes. I enjoy reading books outside of class, for instance, while Isabella spends many hours online searching for pictures and videos of cats dressed like people. We're very well-rounded individuals, as you can see.) So, I accepted my fate and became a friend to Isabella. You can't fight fate, by the way, for the same reasons you can't fight city hall: too much paperwork. It turns out Isabella is fun to be around. She has a knack for making things happen. Like getting a chicken to poop on my couch, for instance. Or finally having a much needed cock'n'balls drawn in chalk on the sidewalk in front of the nearby church. Things like that. All very important stuff. She can also be seen swaying reverently, eyes closed in passionate devotion to the band Luna, in their documentary Tell Me Do You Miss Me. She's everywhere, like sliced bread.It must also be mentioned here that Isabella is a much touted fine artist. Her work is eagerly sought by many art enthusiasts around the office (we work together, too). And I can say, proudly, that many of the pieces you see in this book are on loan from my personal collection. I acquired my favorite work, "Ol' Waspy", by way of trade: a single can of Diet Mountain Dew. My gallery, if you're interested in seeing the permanent collection, is located at cubicle 26A, floor 2, 1610 E. Liberty Drive. We have regular hours. Isabella's brain is full of stories. And thanks to the graciousness