A! A! A minus. Answer: why not perfect? Shoulds carry the force of Damocles, a lance, no, a sword, the right metaphor for the academic punitive the malaprop's fraudulent claim to be just a little wrong. Under girders, ground. Borrowed birders, sounds. Chirps hail storms while firsts mail dorms: future home for high offices held by the always on, ever accurate: society's benefit? That's the 100% claim, no failure is the great clamor, graded vertically, the curve be damned to the hell of every mistake that could have been avoiding, with greater care, greater study, greater nation, greater robbing graves. The dead have a lot to say: we would not be here in the event that everything went according to plan. Time's space between rocks is a hard place and the way the smash goes there is randomness, of course, but obviousness begets thrust and the failure to accept something other than a launch.