We are Forerunners. Guardians of all that exists. The roots of the Galaxy have grown deep under our careful tending. Where there is life, the wisdom of our countless generations has saturated the soil. Our strength is a luminous sun, towards which all intelligence blossoms... And the impervious shelter beneath which it has prospered.
If only they knew what the rest of us do about what the Internet is really used for, they might have been able to avoid this rather embarrassing little mess- no, not that kind, get your mind out of the gutter!- and the rest of us might still be able to use NYC's free wi-fi kiosks for productive things. Such as, perhaps, surfing bootlegged Top Gear episodes on YouTube. Y'know, productive stuff.
That should, if nothing else, serve as a rather pointed reminder of the fact that the Road to Hell is, indeed, paved with good intentions.
Oh, hey, speaking of which:
Damn... Hard to believe that Bruce Dickinson once looked that young, And yet he's still the greatest singer in all of heavy metal. He may be in his late fifties right now, but his voice is better than it was even back in the golden years. He may not be able to hit the shrieking high notes quite as easily, but his pipes have mellowed and their tones have become far more nuanced and subtle- he can do things with his voice now which he simply could not, back then.
Ah, what the hell- while we're on the subject of music, and my superb taste in the same, here's another great classic metal tune: