We celebrate our dystrophy in the spoken words hurled by the placid purveyor of mercury, trapped in a vacant heaven.
Marvel at the pride we take in beautifying an ageing pro-abortion antagonist, perfecting its future on a paper plane.
Clutching a mean trophy, we set out on a journey of assault and battery within a laconic, time-based haven.
Gogo dancing through hell in a rhythmic allegory, we spiked the algorithm decades ago and never decayed again.