Cock

I don't want to be a part of finger snapping and jabbing thirty words per minute. I confess that I'm annoyed by it.
Stupid annoyances. Stupid being annoyed. Stupid annoying me. Finger snap, he's stuck again. Uh, finger snap, don't know what to say. Let's print now, and comb my hair, and iron and clean and clean and clean. The virus is coming, the virus is coming.
What ya gonna do when I snap my fingers all over you? That's what he's asking me. And then when I go to class I'll see all the know it alls and it'll seem they got younger and cockier. No, not younger! Just less aged. Cockiness. It's much like sarcasm. I bet I'll snap my fingers louder and more vehemently and only respect those above me. Above me! The vanity is all american. I've been curious for, oh, roughly twenty-four years, about the odd humans roaming about, crying, dying to be recognized, and fitting in.
Now, for the fun fact of the day! Two time, two time. It's cold outside. A politician politicized.
Commentary. "How you doing?" "Good, but the weather is horrible."
Commentary. " We can't change the weather, but we can create more jobs."

Who is talking? Somebody was being cocky, but then I realized it wasn't a person at all, but some social force created when there's too much dick and not enough pussy.
Vanity is the new shit, and it is enormously amazing now that we're perfecting clones. Who? Not me. I'm the exception of course. I'm allowed. I'm special. I'm you. Do do do do do do. Do do do do do do.