I still like to turn the crank on an original Gramophone occasionally.

I'm impressed by the amount of song lyrics I write inspired by articles I never read and how they spill from my keyboard incessantly.
No matter the speed setting. My record player skips over the entire playlist. It’s just the clicks and crackles of the end tracks' groove that I play for you on repeat. My digital hits are mostly bits of zeroes too.

All I know is I try to categorize everyone besides my mates into something I disagree with because I can't engage productively in a real conversation.

I could just scroll past like I threaten to do but I like gaslighting more than enlightening.

Just ask my mates Mongrel and Stoolie. Turds stick and run together.

Beware! Any lighting after Stoolie is at your own risk.

*Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story—even those based on real people—are entirely fictional.

**Satire and Parody are protected speech under the First Amendment in the United States Constitution