Figuratively tack one hundred and eighty degrees away... where joie de vivre underscores poetic theme, no matter every day brings gut wrenching tearful tragedy, thee attention for heart warming (powdered milk biscuits of human kindness)
doth shyly beg to gussy esprit de corps with elan evoking a reddit ting, snapchatting, or twittering blue jay mood, cuz most everybody (including your truly) dislikes constant emphasis on may hem, sans mindless
violent murderous sprees, nor natural disasters Earth quake king, viz flooding, out of fires burning, et cetera thus, a concerted effort (minus con vol fluted schmaltzy arpeggio piano play, drumroll, or trumpet blaring),
where pomp and circumstances (composed by Edward Elgar) try to stay bull eyes euphoria kvetching, and uttering oye vey spin upside down with a yippee yawping yay plus countenancing
only gloom and doom will conclude myself tubby a cynical secular nihilist making the ghost of Missus Muir, Friedrich Nietzsche, and David Hume come to life (at least in my imaginary presence),
and render a meta physical/ philosophical loom by expostulating their respective profound Kant mind bending room min nations, even prophesying
after a body becomes deceased (whoops a slight non lethal faux pas) cremated or buried (with victuals for the after life) encrypted within a tomb.