in lieu of common and generally accepted politeness it was determined that all pop songs would eventually have their seance occasion by circumstances none other than reasons ie., rationale predicated (predicted?) on a proxy hoax and dandy rhyme, hymns possible, rearranged into goads, goals, geodes, inciting a weakness towards, affectation rather, sauntering, bowlegged and bootcut jean-likening, which would merit something or other smelling quite like a beefsteak or other colon clutching gastronomical delight of the type your health food store mama warned you against and well there it was, no more soups really, in fact, none but a peninsula-shaped ire for languishing the brainy years in a teat-fed stupor of civility and tears, longing for that graceful public schoolbus ride, pulling loogies and gum out of your hair most of the time, dammit