Always watching my every move. Anything I say, do, the slightest mistake, and that old devil-whore Ereneta sweeps out of the ominous nether-regions of the nodegel and cuts me down.  A misquoted song, a lyric that lacks the author's personal life story, and even the nebulas:

        "Personal write-ups that are daylogs that aren't in the daylogs."

Lay the hell off, of foul referee of knowledge, oh anonymous judger of my fate! All are observed, all our judged, all downvoted, /msg'ed, scorned before the ever-vigilant, glowering eyes of hate. What mishaped you, what twisted your soul so? What could have degraded you, stripped you of all morality, lowered you so much as to use a god-forsaken ukulele? I tremble in fear.
    Yet, as I raise my eyes to the expected carnage and chaos, instead I behold--

   something pretty. Something better. What was left remains, but now it is purified in your holy fire and thus expurgiated of its former, sinful state. For though the baptism in fire brought me to the gates of hell and back, I now see the wisdom in the old man's savage cacklings:

"Crickets go down better with beer. If you're eating moths, drink Mountain Dew."

This bug's on me.