There comes a time in a man’s life when the cosmos recognises his efforts. Some karmic balance is finally tipped. All those times you walked the little old lady across the street. All those times you distinctly didn’t take the last doughnut. All those times you actually emptied the dishwasher before your mother / wife / girlfriend / alternative-lifestyle-partner-of-choice nagged you.
And then there’s those times when some crazy dude in an office somewhere who, for some godforsaken reason, has control over these things decides he’s gonna be nice to you to make up for that time he ate a puppy.
I have no bloody idea which this is, but, let me just say…





Our imaginations often run rampant with thoughts of spandex-jockeys with fanciful names, futuristic gadgets and amazing powers that boggle the senses… but it amuses me how often things return to roots in mythology.
