# in which little seems less palatable than the cold designer bleach stink of unchecked privilege take the pair of shop front dummies next door spitting our life is one big adventure jive outside the window until four in the morning they seem unable to shut up mommy's little darlings acting like they grown yapping on about recent apparent sensual conquests but with less than eight hairless inches between them dominating ir tiresome little scene discussions of giant insects in texas the infinite joys of wakeboarding off the back of a hired tow truck researcher henry swanson overhears such plastic tripe drip from slack gobs: you what in which at this critical juncture the only existentially viable option seems a casual brief yet intense beating with the nearest available burning kayak paddle // republic of bob