My house in infested with ants. So when I took a seat on my couch having just taken two fat hoots of Pineapple Trainwreck, I noticed two warrior ants locked in a duel to the death against the vast white backdrop that is my carpet. My first inclination was to grab a few squares of toilet paper, crush them both within, and flush their broken insect bodies down the crapper. But as this impulse moved through me another followed, a higher impulse to let them be. For all I knew this savage conflict, this baptism by combat, would define their lives and through it they would truly know themselves. Who was I to deny the victor his glory, his acceptance by the gods. Who was I to deny the loser his shame, his descent into the perfection of his own inadequacy. No, life must be allowed to live and die as it will, to arrogantly interupt the violent ballet is the one true sin. Oh, and the weed got me stoned.