In the beginning, was the word, and the word, was duck, and below the word of duck... Was quack. A sound that replicates the sound of the grand opening crack of the primordial egg. In that X-Ovo-Omnia epigenetic moment in the garden of Ened. A quack sound, that is echoless to the ears of duckless misogynists un-attuned to the suttle acoustics of duck song. Those ignorami whose minds have not been En-duck-ated in Duckology 101, and who are thus not acquainted to the teachings of duck, and moreover, our pulchritudinous duck hears through the ether, the biorhythmic beats of an electro-chemical fusion of Techno-funky final scratching that makes our tail feathers... Shake.