GR writes: "Once upon a time, I thought my home was really the Island of Perfection. What a load of crap. This place is plagued with pleasantry, overrun by bears stuffed full with bliss and ignorance and extra tall cotton. Callow they are, so fluffy and wuffy, sniffing flowers in forests reeking with the swampy scent of spoiled merriment like baby rats slurping from a bottle of poisoned sugar water. They frolic and dance around the campfire of suckers, pawns of the law whose bright-eyed innocence only matches their bushy-tailed panic."