We impart numeric dicta slathered with platitudes — century-old middle ground (the themeless module) where we sleep (wavy fields of inaction) and continue playing around vulgar innuendo to stay kind, as you undress to force a smile, fully emancipating me to feel obliged to receive you generously.
Headwinds within and, as it were, without manners. Good manners can scar others but they also let us peons act like participants in marking time as though subscribers to the regulatory plutocracy. Either way, I know so little about the state and the state so much less, so here are the details.