Tomorrow is a new day, when the sun rises to cast its resplendent rays upon my Chaos Daemons, the tools by which I engineer hitherto unforeseen domination, intimidation and annihilation. 22nd place is my divine birthright, and I have no pity for the sorry fools standing in my way. I'm probably beating at least one opponent tomorrow and for that, I will never apologize. The only thing more relentless than my onslaught will be my trash-talking and bravado. The player who finishes 23rd will look up at the standings and say, "That could have been me, had I been more awesome." That player will go home, sad. I will crush his army, see his models driven before me and hear the lamentations of his woman.
There.
Now I'm ready.