Finally Finals Fandango Frafflebums

Different in the sense of ceiling propellers, whose only motivation lies in the force of a circular and constant motion, or rather different in the sense of running water against young skin, bouncing like beads against stretched rubber, or maybe different the way televisions are, being stared into by food-holding people with gaping open mouths and nothing else to do all day. I don't think it matters, though. That some movements grasp tightly and others hold hardly anything at all. It's movement and if I'm movement then really I'm no different than the previously mentioned banalities. Hurrah, I'm a banality, a mundane activity, a process of elimination, a processed food, a 75% processed, a debit/credit process. a profession that says: "Excuse me as I profess and confess, or digress to trangress my distress." Endearing really, piercing thoroughly enough to be painfully searing, steering the unconscious dead rat into another direction with pixie sticks and 1983 pennies. Currency currently curing me of all my obscenities. Maybe.