This node reminds me of a story about an old cowboy (whom I tend to identify with, through no-one’s fault but my own.)
The cowboy rode into town after having herded several hundred head of cattle through a huge number of miles of seriously unfriendly rattlesnake ridden territory. As he dismounted, dust settling from his trail worn attire a city slicker (displeased about the cowboy’s appearance) hollered “Hey, Who is your superior?”.
The cowboy spit, and drew the back of his hand over his mouth before staring into the city slickers eyes and drawling “I go no superiors . . . and damned few equals.”, before walking into the bar.