Countdown to Armageddon


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Breathe it in Blog-children.
The air is heavy with the scent of Change. Cosmic wheels are a-turnin' up there, and I alone can hear them.
I'm seeing the signs everywhere. The rambling grounds within which Chez Sonique sits are replete with unseasonably early buttercups and sonic-daffs. The forest wistfully murmurs while larks and linnets sing their sweet song with girlish glee, mere feet from where I contentedly type this despatch to the vast and unending Blogosphere.
Sonovagun, I can even see that Icon of al fresco dining Sonic BBQ2 coming up from the cellar months early at this rate.
But it ain't just the 11/8 time-signature of the seasons I'm banging on about here. No sir, something far more serious is on the cusp of irreversible change: The Zeitgeist.
Don't bother looking for the signs pop-kids, they'll find you.
Remember I said this, because later you'll want to thank me.


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