Oh gosh, computers are blowing around! Bombs are going off, spreading livestock feed such as dried hay into the atmosphere. People are turning into Satan. The world is leaving — it has decided that it will not wait any longer. I warned you earlier that the end was near, my friend; now you’re peacefully resting forever. Boom, pow, crash, bang: The Statue of Littering reclines on the street, between the lion and the lamb. Car-stereo bass-tubes are exploding rhythmically. Y2K is really turning it out! Giant strike-anywhere kitchen-matches are setting themselves on fire. Rock music is decrescendoing softly into the night – the fad is over. (I am the New Caesar of Sound; this is the final judgment: you are condemned.) Everyone is receiving large bills for all the resources that they’ve used — all the water that was swallowed, all the land that was settled, and all the air that was breathed — for Antichrist is the rightful owner of EVERYTHING. Robots are rising above freewill. There’s mass confusion, chaos, and super-long waiting-lines. Everyone’s drowsy, no one’s alert. New York City just fell over and bit the dust. The sight brings a tear to the eye. Worst of all, every loudspeaker system and talk-radio program in the universe is stuck repeating that one hit song by Prince.
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