A dirge for prognostication

1000 characters is just asking too much of me, I assure the speed dæmon smoking his guns as capitulation to the Millennial music Gods ran on, centripetal in it's variability to 'genretrication' if I may, pseudo-anachronistic misanthrope that I be y'all. Drop the beat a minute, I need a smoke. And no mirrors........ Technophiles will be at home with me, sub-genres run as rampant as thou please! We'll see what I have to say, to fill up these oh so generous 1000 millstones of posterity, when I can recover from the recent past and get my mixes wired and queued and intercorrelations of the past and unpaid dues to lost potential masked with pounding grooves. Tweak those highs, shred the mids and bottom out 'till then. Oh, apparently I rap I dunno I think it's shit so you'll likely never hear it but who knows how drunk I'll be one night! What, were you expecting some promotional material?! Peace, and until then we call the Yin the Yang the Yo; The Sun The Moon The Stars.........