I wasn't compelled to share until I saw "SARAH PALIN RICKROLLED YOUR GRANDMOTHER." (This is, of course, not true; I have never met either of my grandmothers, as they both predeceased me.)
The (Fiery) Cauldron of Hate has been refilled, and we're once again leveling curses all around and wondering why we ever got ourselves into this line of work. But with each fresh iteration of this douchebaggery, I'm more inclined to simply sigh and shake my head. There now seems to be sufficient happiness, attendant to my impending separation, to outweigh the bouts of anger and bitterness. The sacrifices routinely demanded of us will, for me, end soon enough; and while I may look back, I won't regret the decision to leave. Not even an impending economic depression can reverse that opinion.