 Sure. But how does all of that connect to every trip down the floor? It's this whining, throwing your hand, flopping, all that silliness. I mean, come on. Right, right. But who tells you no? Yeah, okay. That's my point. Thank you. There's got to be somebody. And if you're friends that don't want to watch the NBA, I get that part. But I'm not going to cut off my nose to spite my face.