let's get past the boogie and move on to the woogie now. this dialogue has become as useful as repeated syncopal episodes or scotch-tape repairs. i've lost my handle on anything profound, i've flippantly flipped my flippy plastic lid, i've run out of rhythm like a car runs out of gas and i'm left only with discordant synth-core metal electronic hip-hop funk punk junk rusty-engine percussion beats.