"A baroque art-rock bubblegum broadcast on a frequency understood only by female teenagers and bred field mice."

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The merry-go-round was running, yes, but... It was running backward. The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes.

— Ray Bradbury