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When in the depths of the witching hour He sits atop a table Anxious depression fills his head As he thinks of those more able They're committing heinous crimes by night And sleeping through the day You may know him, so may others Who is this, you say? I am the father of this giant Figuratively...

As a summer game, a friend of mine (not sure which one, she's staying anonymous) created an email that includes a riddle. The answer to the riddle is the password to the email address she created for this game... And this one is a question about something made of clay in Mesopotamia..here's the...