Clicks.

Having quite the dopamine rush from a few tweets. So much so, I'm going to work with the phone off.  Fame is too much for my fragile condition, and I don't want to corrupt myself any further.
Trying to figure out how to play with words and make a living without unnecessary attention (no punctuation 

#Gervais. Golden Globes.

Jokes provided by the Hollywood police blotter, delivered like he is the only adult in the room and he is truly disgusted. A thing of beauty.

Happy new y. (It's past my bedtime)

Happy New Year. Welcome to the Roaring 20s

Otherwise known as DEFAULT MODE on this particular program.  Expect highs and lows and more of the same with some startling surprises.
It would not surprise me if we are still putting air in our tires for another hundred years, like the saps we are.   In the meantime, our phone will become our doctor, we will do our own surgeries at Auto Zone, We can teleport to Alpha Centauri  and live and die in a mirror world on the internet.   But flying cars is crazy talk.
Right. 
Happy New Year

My superpower

I am the abstract entity of the spelling error that is phonetically correct.
I will tell you the profound to enlighten you, but be shrugged off due to an e where an I should be.  You will understand the communication and disregard it as foolspeake.

Not everyone can, or should, fly.

Merry Christmas.

Sub-Bla

Trying harder than most to find a voice and medium that mandates an individual observers interpretation with minimal creator manipulation.
A subversive bland, if you will.  Some may see it as unfinished,  I would say unpolished.