[Steve W]

To quote (well almost) a famous writer:

To spray or not to spray, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The color and glitter of cheap paint,
Or to take arms against a sea of teammates,
And by opposing, end them. To die: to spray;
No more; and by a spray to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural colors
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to spray;
To spray: perchance to laugh: ay, there's the rub;
For in that spray of paint what laughs may come
When we have sprayed off this florescent color,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes a mess of so short a life;
For who would bear the cans and sprayers of paint,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's arrogant act,
The pangs of robot love, the mentor's delay,
The insolence of teammates and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a spray can? who would finish the job,
To grunt and sweat under a rebuilt crate,
But that the dread of something after spraying,
The undiscover'd country from whose robot
No robot returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear the paint we have
Than spray on others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And paint of great color and glitter
With this regard their heads turn away,
And lose the name of action.-Spray you now,
The fair teammate, in thy spraying
Be all my gloating remember'd.