On a good day, I'd like to consider myself a man of altruism. Money, blood, bad advice, I give it all. However, it's important you don't get the wrong impression, my dear, imaginary reader. There is, ultimately, a single motivation that propels me through life. Spite.

Comments are back, homelier, brokener, and better than every. Deal with it. I have sleep to do. One caution though - be gentle with your non-comments, my fictitious friend, because until they retreat to the enzymatic spa of a good spit shine, they're a might fragile thing.

But still. Spite.