"pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others"
It's not something I usually indulge in; but there are exceptions, and I enjoy those exceptionally. Take for example people who willfully mistreat my Spouse; they can go to whatever misfortune they choose for themselves. You see, the Spouse is a nice sort of person. He thinks the best of people, often overly so. Deliberately hurting him is like kicking a puppy, and doing so repeatedly for reasons that exist only in the perpetrators hyperactive imagination is worthy of more than a little anger. And yet poetic justice does exist. You see, social convention decrees that it takes a very special kind of person to be really evil to said Spouse; and while I would gladly cut them, I won't and, most importantly, won't need to. The special kind of person it takes to kick puppies, you see, is also the special kind of person that will antagonise everyone in a world that depends on collaborations; it is the kind of person who cries wolf, then shark, then t-rex, then pterodactyl. At which point they of course get eaten by the Torchwood pterodactyl.
It's a spectacle I will gladly sit back for with a bag of popcorn.