Counterpoint punches me in the arm and I'm back on the air, somewhere, stuck in traffic, slumped low in my bucket seat, and there's static on the radio. A signal is trying to get through, but all I get is partial syllables of someone speaking
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that is a neat installation D: are those wires for light or data or anything?
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PROUD MOMENT. I put on my Sophisticated voice while waiting in line (just a Thurston Howell III impression) and said "Well this really transforms the piano into a percussion instrument, doesn't it?" and the people in front of us said "Ahhhh," "Mmm," and "Why, yes!"
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But the world is going to stop spinning in four years so who will care when we all crash into the nearest wall at light speed!
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Fuck you, man. Fuck you hard.
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You should try building your own!
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I guess I'm off to find an old organ and an abandoned shipyard, then. Things never slow down.
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Gosh, I'm pretty much responsible for your nightmares. AWESOME!
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