I declare from someone else's heart that you are in alignment with my gravity. So let us scamper to the dance tunes. Let's inject utility into our stream of consciousness, condone the apoplectic restoration of the dimestore pulse of this young feather of a townlet. Let's enjoy projected selves. Let's divvy up the ruckus, pass the buck. Let's go wash the Chevrolet, get in and watch the life sized-plus folks stretched across the billboard-cubed sized screen be members of the master plot and grin through fate as fat and frame by frame go whelming past the well-planned nightlights.