Information has always been a profitable commodity.

As winter's frigid grip begins to tire, the days are growing longer and warmer. An insistent seasonal rebirth begins to unfold before our eyes, ushering bright blue skies and lush floral colours. The bleak grey retreats against the beaming sunlight, leaving behind nary but the lingering memory of frozen lakes and snowcapped mountains, religious holidays and failed resolutions.

The little left us now, we who fight and kill in the darkness, leaves scraps at our tables where once bountiful feasts lay. Adorned with floral settings and cozy placements, the meal we now sup upon is a pittance to what we'd grown accustomed to. How is it in this day and age that we've grown so submissively fat on the misbegotten, only to have them suddenly become aware and alert to our sneaking presence? It's as if our place in the shadows has become a dangerous

Another calendar year grows cold and dead. For most monsters, this is the contentious finale; their lethal clawed paws knurled in arthritic knots, flailing feebly against an inevitable demise they were born to face too soon. No matter the initial promise of their birthright, compared to the youthful might they'd wielded during first Spring - possessed of both unbridled hormonal vigor and virtuous ferocity - they were designed to deteriorate during the incessant

Patients often ask me how to improve their voracious appetites. The answer is simple: kill and eat everyone that stands in your way. As a monster, there's little that remains to impede your inaugural goal - REND A BODY ENTWINE - so it becomes a question of where to stand and where to respond. My answer is a varied coupling:

The world mourns a reckless act of terrorism. It reacts in kind, yet there remains no end of violence in sight. Countries and religions and vehement beliefs weigh in the balance, but what comes of arguing the word of the Almighty?

There is nothing to fight against. We have quietly subjected ourselves to a new power, and the world molds us in its visage through carefully planted psychological messages.

We're not a super power anymore.

We've carelessly accepted that our role be as entertainers - fluent in acceptance and friendship, abhorrent of rough and dangerous things. Rather, we display our combative strategies in reality cook shows where cakes wage war against... more cake.

The swarm finds itself in uncommon peril for a lack of unsuspecting quarry.

Harvest your pain. Turn it in the soil. After all the work of planting and caring for your agony, reap the benefits by gutting your foes.