How dare you insult me like that Daedalus. I take this as serious as a heart attack and take great insult from you treating me like I'm some kid. I am a mature adult, and worlds begin and end in me like a star furance; your edits are just tiny meteors to me. The nine layers of the Baator are too good for you. I've delt with little trolls like yourself and conquered them all.  I once managed to find the IRL address and name of one unnamed troll on here. I sat in my unremarkable white van (marked with the name of a made-up flower company) for days on end, watching and noting his patterns. I lowered myself to collecting my waste in mason jars in order to maintain my unblinking surveillance of his house, but it was all for the good of wikipedia. The only thing besides my hot plate and stores of water and food that got me through this ordeal was the bittersweet pain of my masterwork dagger cutting the palms of my hands in order to reassure myself that I was still alive, and that I could feel things where he could not. My ultimate victory came just mere moments after he put up a stupid edit on wikipedia. I knew what I had to do. This troll had to be stopped. I knew from this site that trolls could only be killed with fire or acid and, luckily, I had both on hand in anticipation. I put on my handyman's outfit so as to avoid suspicion and snuck to his backdoor. It was found to be unlocked. The last mistake he would ever make. I slid the door open and stealthily slipped inside, my Greater Illusion spell working like a charm to make me appear as a simple housecat. A housecat who could open doors! My footsteps went unheard by the troll over the sound of his fat fingers slamming on the keys like little fat hotdogs. I unsheathed my vorpal blade and, in one perfect movement, I sundered his head from his shoulders. In an instant I was pouring the acid upon his neck stump, sealing it shut and preventing him from ever regenerating. Then I poured the rest upon his head, his face looking shocked that I had found his secret out. Then my blowtorch was applied to it, and he died silently screaming even as I danced and basked within the thick smoke that issued forth as if from Mephisto's own cauldron. I turn to the computer and my blade makes only a slight whisper as it cuts the air itself before sundering the vile thing in two. Then came the really fun part. I set all of my equipment aside and got 100 percent naked. The troll's body had not even stopped twitching before I propped it up and cut it's clothes from it's body. The head a pile of ash by now, my victory was completed with the teabagging of the next best thing: his cauterized neck stump. My digital camera was removed from my Bag of Holding and many pictures were taken, some just to gloat in my victory over this inhuman creature, and some just to satisfy the almost sexual urge I could only get from the death and humiliation of such an evil creature. Then it was finally over, and my pendulous pants polearm of plundering issued forth a Katrina-like flood of little half-Vanbotos. The evidence of what some might call my crime was gone, for it worked like acid upon the troll's body and ate through into the foundation of the house, which almost proved my downfall. With the house shaking around me like it was going to fall on my head. But I escaped unharmed, and knew I would continue my riteous cause well into the future.  So, in conclusion, I have no reason to fear little crotch-goblins like yourself. Because my kung-fu is the best, and it always will be. Helter Skelter, mother fucker. If I have my way, you will be banned entirely from Rock Lobster along with your little friend whom started it, and then the world will finally know, once and for all, that Peter Griffin once played Rock Lobster on Family Guy to cheer up his friend Cleveland. You cannot win, I am the superior being. As opposite from you as black is from white or that troll was from actually being a real human being. Attempt no sockpuppetry, for I will know. And, if I have my way, Jimbo himself will know too.  