We, the Flaming Rail’s of Bitteroot Valley, being of semi-sound mind and pure heart and broken fingers, do gather here today in order to proclaim a simple, powerful message of hope and righteousness upon the world, to shed radical light into dark and passive corners — corners of linguistic doubt and embarrassment, corners that dress as gentlemen but have no faces, that hide secret messages covered in sand and grease — and our message is thus:
Language lives. Language evolves.
Everyday we’re figuring out the right way to communicate with each other. Everyday it changes. Faster than we think. Embrace it, man. Rules were made to be broken.
Communicate above all else.
So it is written and so we thus proclaim from the clouds in the sky to that fucking dark hole Kevin’s cousin fell into last summer. That sucked.