And now back to the regular fare. This was more or less an outlet for me to direct a lot of old anger towards.

Everybody knows the parasite. Perhaps you know a couple of him, he seems to be around a lot more nowadays. He's the one wearing that pretty mask, with a mouth that shoots out nothing but pretty words. He's that just-too-smooth flavour of the month who just couldn't be guilty of anything. That lovely woman on his arm, see, she may be the top-billing for him, but by no means the exclusive. A sly wink or a phone call can get you in as well, no questions asked. Don't worry, she'll never know. 'Cause he's got all the right moves. He holds all the cards and pulls all the strings. And all you old-fashioned holier-thans with all of your fairy-tale talk of loyalty and respect, well don't blame him... He just can't help himself. See, it's a problem of his. Think you could help him out of it? He'd just love for you to try.

The parasite is an emotional terrorist.