A long time ago I was somewhat responsible for a fire that destroyed some land. No one was hurt, I never got caught, and it was a valuable and terrifying life lesson for a boy of twelve. If you want to know further details, well, you'll have to buy me a burrito, and none of that Taco Bell garbage. Anyway, my point. There came a critical moment in the fire where stamping only made maters worse, that puffs of flame spread and spread every time I slammed my foot down to smother the fire. I think there's a metaphor somewhere in that for the ugliness of modern piracy. Pirates. We need to get the SEALs on this, like, stat. If you really want to get a bead on the costs and culprits of modern literary piracy, check Havocscope.