That's how it always starts. Then one day you decide to up the irony coefficient and stick a few more cards in. Before you know it you're a spoke card junky. Your friends say you've changed and your own mother can hardly recognize you. One night she works up the nerve, tries to tell you to stop, just get rid of those damned cards. But you just glare right back at her as you storm out of the house, slamming the door and shouting, "I'll tell you when I've had enough!"