There are an ∞ number of numbers. And out of all of them, people picked 67.
67 has no job. It is not a famous constant, a meaningful date, or a number anyone needs. Its entire personality is being yelled in a hallway. It peaked on a phone screen, and it will be forgotten before you finish this sentence. 8 was here before you were born.
Your pen never lifts. 67 makes you stop twice and rethink your choices.
Knock it over and it's ∞. Knock 67 over and it's just lying on the floor.
Octopus: 8 arms. Spider: 8 legs. Nature shipped 8 everywhere. It has never once needed a 67.
Eight notes run every song ever written. 67 has never been in tune with anything.
8 is 2×2×2, a perfect cube. 67 is a prime you'll never need and a PIN you'd forget.
Half the planet calls 8 lucky. 67 is a bus you missed and an exit you'll never take.
Hit the button. Send the stupid sequence where it belongs and watch it crumble, smoke, and pile up as ash.
Declare your loyalty to the number 8. Messages containing 67 are blocked at the door.