Ooh, who wants to be a rabble-rouser? C'mon, that little streak of childish chaos can't be dead. Buried somewhere deep within your belly, perhaps even within the bowels of your bowels, the Flame of Rebellion still burns. Well, maybe more like a Pilot Light of Rebellion as the flickering, tiny flame tries to singe the extinguishers of Responsibility and Maturity. But occasionally this nugget must be fanned to soothe the burning. (If something else burns, Penicillin may be your best bet. Consult your physician; use only as directed.) Never mind attempting minor league forms of disorder like not wearing a tie to work or pissing in the coffeepot; I'm talking full on anarchy here. An act that may collapse industry as we know it. Global economies sound their death knell as information becomes a rarer and more precious commodity than a virgin at parochial school. Best of all, it might send all those weird little hacker fucks into seizures. Oh, it will be beautiful. And all you have to do is Turn Off The Internet. This is not just an act of defiance, but one of great kindness as well. You can relieve millions of their addiction to e-mail. Porn would have to be acquired the old-fashioned way and then hidden under the mattress so your mom won't find it. Plus, it would vanquish one of Satan's more insidious demons. Yes, you could be the one who finally rids the world of AOL! Great joy indeed.