Can you hear how good you all are?

A list of your classifiers wouldn’t suffice, I’ve seen enough to love you twice, your smile is up, and up is down won’t you come be a rodeo clown with me, cowboy, ride the sound.

Sounders spinning algorithm ride the favorite but couldn’t fill ‘3

Eh-hem. I have not AI to say. I am a citizen of the Milky Way. Affirm me, Great Star Command, I’m grounded infinity away- give us this thanks, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, while we level those who trespass against us, but lead us never towards temptation, but for that stick of gum gum we shoot boys. For His is the Kingdom, White Power, and The Glory, in every conceivable universe, world with a nasty end, Amen.

(The scene you’re supposed to have seen there is a young person contacting astral support in mass, and when mentally interrupted by a physical Father, the turn of the most lordly prayer to what they sarcast about it.)

All of this is to say I think you’re fantastic, you makers of art. Anything you do has got my heart. Make it weird, say something too loud, show us the soul that hosts our feelings most proud, change them, I’ll follow you into the ground. Bombs away.