Okay:
Your incessant attempts at one-upping each other bring me solace, for I am comforted by the thought that I spend my time doing more productive things, such as constructing insults that are worthy of your approval. The quips and insults and paper bullets of the mind are needles on the hide of a rhinoceros, they must be sharpened to an immaculate level so that their wound will not only remain, but fester. Dwell on composition if you dare, your time in this world is precious and limited, and no one will be there to remember the keys you tapped millennia from now. But if you take satisfaction in contributing, that is all that matters... Right?
Right...?