To DC...or not to DC....that is the question!
Whether it be noobler in a Cigarpass to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous puts and takes,
Or to take your e-penis up against a sea of newbies ,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The already answered questions and the thousand meaningless posts
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that posting to death what PM's may come
When we have shuffled off the whining ones,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the banter and polish of chat,
The FOG's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized e-porn, the law's delay,
The insolence of time earned and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action