I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the spiders are trying to help me. I mean, they know things. They know what will make me attractive, they know what will make me popular. They know what I should be listening to. And for a small fee, they can all be mine. They have ideas, too; so all I have to do is repeat their ideas, and then I'll have ideas. And they're always right -- the proof is right there on TV. See? All the pundits are saying the same thing. Just like the spiders whispered into my ear.

The spiders say that it's a good thing to spend 60 hours a week grinding your soul to a nub just so you can almost afford a mortgage -- because then you're safe. Plus, the pills they give you fill up that hollow emptiness in your gut - and if that doesn't do the job, by God a glass of whiskey and some out-of-focus internet pornography will do the trick! Thanks to the spiders, I don't have to do anything when I get home from work. I can just sit here, and watch other people pretending to do the things I don't have the time or the motivation to do. It's right there, on the screen. Now hush: The new Fox sitcom is about to come on, and my Megan Fox downloads are almost complete.