tchaikovsky sucker punch

... .... these hands once doubled as feet. just imagine the cartwheels our ancestors could do... i bet they would spin all day on the comfortably padded ground, autographing mud and staining their hair with a chlorophyll souvenir. and we will all one day be souvenirs, packaged neatly in lavish concrete tombs beneath millions of tons of our own pride. future models of newly amphibious cephalopods will crown themselves with broken and weathered mandibles exposed by eroding soils to admonish their kind of the product of utter negligence.but for now we'll keep spinning and autographing the mud with solid block fingerprints to proclaim the majesty of I. cartwheels and pesticide. spinning, and oblivious to Else. spinning and spinning. i think i want to sit down for a while.