Your grief and rage are layers of peeling paint pasting together the rotted boards of a ramshackle house and when those layers are scraped away the bat-filled building collapses into a massive sink hole which gives birth to a ravenous mouth crammed with rows of shark teeth that devours everything I consider mine. So the night is long. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Now is not a thoughtful age. Now is the time of uninformed rage so let Reason sleep next to Voltaire's grave - a bony dog before a dead fire. And if it ever wakes . . . But I doubt that's our fate - that poor thing will never wake.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief