Every day I wake up and go to work. It's hard. Another day of this, of this silliness! Why do I do it? Before entering my place of business, I stop at a cafe and get coffee and a muffin, and it's the only thing that gets me through my work day and therefore my life. I devour my muffin, suck its textures and flavors and crumbs, caress its sweet mountains of sugar and flour and butter. I like corn, corn muffins. I'm a muffin bastard.