Something should gnaw at this ugly, rigid edifice and break it down with a big, nasty crash and when the dust settles you will see the pasture from where ideas and stories and other such forgotten things will sprout. They could be blue, square, irreverent, incorrect, baroque, transformative, factual. They will all be tedious in parts, especially the middle. The end, however, shall always be a rousing triumph, inspiring even. They will be 'tweeted', 'liked', shared and 'plussed', at least once, but they must not be 'tweets', 'likes', 'shares' and 'pluses'. Brevity is great when time is running out (or when you run out of analogies) but not here.
Inspite of all it machinations, 'The It' spews out character limited ideas and thoughts. The something that must gnaw at it has been summoned. If you listen carefully you can hear the sound of a chisel tapping away, or maybe they are just muffled keystrokes from a rather rigid keyboard; either way the end of inertia is near. A pity that it can't save itself by running away.