Your bromide is familiar. Let me grab a pen. You’re gaining attention for the wrong reasons, dummkopf. Stay where you are. Exploit the familiar, even an inkling. Glow fast.

The cosmos is unwilling to go very far, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely a plywood-and-particulates object flown in time. Earth turns out an enormous intimation as sexual icon, promoting violence, death, laughter. 
Those not laughing are listening, assuming we’re incandescent.