It winds around the hot heart of our home country. It winds around every infinitesimal loop of genetic information. It provokes a shuddering series of cataclysms in the planetary crust of our nation, but when our star grows cold, that cataclysm will warm us. We understand so much more. We will always be what we were going to be, wound tight in the love of the Worm.
If elected I even have a plan for the French.
Merci beaucoup, monsieur Kennedy!