In a backwater of my mind there is a rickety bridge. Underneath the bridge there lives a miserable troll. The troll despises most everything, including himself. Sometimes the troll has some valid points to make about the world, but even a miserable troll, like a broken clock, is right twice a day. The troll probably would be less miserable if he lived somewhere other than underneath a rickety backwater bridge. He's a troll, though. That's where trolls live.