It went downhill really fast. Basically, a guy was bitching that he delivered a pie to Gene Simmons' house and didn't get a tip. I said it was voluntary and sort of thought it was a bit much to get riled up over not getting something someone gives voluntarily. I was the worst thing since Hitler right from the git go. People were saying that I deserve to have my food spit in. I told the original poster that it wasn't my fault that in the best economy in 50 years they couldn't get a higher paying gig while waiting for their to hit. Well, not only was he going to make sure I never bought any of his albums when they hit, but that he would kill me. The peanut gallery jumped in and the next thing you know, WHAM! I was dead. It really was adorable.