I roast, I deflate, I deconstruct, yet can elevate. I evince lessons not yet taught. To avoid me, do naught.

You can find me both on your foot and at the end of your fist, but either way, I can be pretty bad for someone’s nose.

I live in darkness, in open air I lose my senses I am flexible, and sometimes offensive I can be known as a mother, and used to take a type of test If I am missing, blaming the cats might be best

I am a hand, but not a body. I showcase suits, and like to party.

I was the subject of a great reward eventually given by a sarcastic computer program and apart of a famous phrase from an aristocrat. What am I?