So, I'm kind of a fan of literature. Especially when it comes to really, really weird stuff. "I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream" is a pretty good example of what I mean. Or any of Steven King's stuff tends to be pure enjoyment for me. Something about sitting down, being away from the world, and reading about men transformed into monkeys with huge genitals and killer cars just has a weird appeal to me. And, apparently, it does so for our Child today: Well, that's probably because that books about eating babies. Babies are pretty tasty.