Every time I parse HTML with a regular expression, an unholy child weeps the blood of virgins. An open cloud conspiracy digitizes my last matched string. This gets me in my gut. What can I do? I follow my metronome. Code and space. Code and space. During the day, I work as a factory hand. My overseers don’t know who they have lurking in the basement, a Basilica rat with tech smarts. St. Peter don’t you call me. I’m busy at night using lower case letters beneath the radar of other Russian hackers who’d wanted to pawn my latest web app on the tech black market. Oh, believe me. There is such a thing, global matching in white space where you’ll find very dark matters. See all the above.