And I'll tell you who 'they' are: Valve Software. Selfish, out of touch *ssholes. A finger-licking, dead-inside multi-billion dollar slab of third-rate dime store nut milk. And I'll tell you what they can do... They can lick my godd*mn cinnamon ring clean and kick rocks all the way to gaming hell. In fact, I don't give a sh*t if they remove all my hats and pop my account like some nightmarish binary numeral system balloon. If the last thing I do in this godforsaken c*m gutter existence is light that f*cking company on fire, I still won't die happy.

That's right, my fellow Team Fortress 2 enjoyer. I won't be happy until I've urinated on Steam's freshly barbecued corpse and husk f*cked the charred remains while gargling Gabe Newell's newly nuttered nether nuts. And you can quote me.