As we all are and as we all must, I am thinking deep thoughts and sending hard prayers out to the spiritual warrior using her passions and integrity and real awesome power and sick skillz and ferocious friendliness to win the war. What war, you say. Well, let me tell you. This is the war on magic, the war on smoke and mirrors, the war on wonder, the war on delight, the war on whimsy, the war on potato salad and waterslides and fresh flowers. Yeah that war. The one they waged without mercy nor quarter on jocularity and hilarity. And these Lady Warriors are out there on the front lines, the freaking tip of the freaking spear, taking down the haters of the soul, the enemies of glee, the usurpers of blitheness. Goddamn those frowning sons of frowning dung and their blitzkrieg of bumhuggery. I mean if it wasn’t for these women out there doing freaking battle to the freaking death with the forces of anti-buffoonery and the agents of anti-mirth then, well, what the freak do you think is going to happen? Shit is gonna get sad. And all us simple folk are gonna go to the big frown in the sky. So they fight. They’re taking it back. One chuckle at a time. The Female Fighters For Fun And Freedom. The FFFFAF. And they are gonna burn down the sprightliness-less horde with stank verve beams from their funky fun guns and restore the universe to giggling glory. And in a millennia hence, the children of the children of the children of the children of the children of the mothers of the fighters will hoist their mugs into the sky, yell: Hooray! And chug those cold brewskis down. Just like Mama woulda wanted. LONG LIVE BEGUILEMENT! LONG LIVE THE FIGHTERS! FUN HARD!