The Chase
So what defines the parameters of human existence?
Is it the way we construct the careful elements of cultural armor to launch ourselves like fiery pieces of Sputnik into a collision course with a large quantity of hott in the hopes of grabbing shards during our atmospheric plunge?
Is it through a madcap endless chasing of the name-brand identities of trend culture in the vain hopes of grasping that just-out-of-reach brass ring of “now”?
An endlessly impossible journey of paradox, a quagmire of corporate inspired chase in which we are brand-name rats scurrying for a mythic product to transcend the sexual competition during our underground descent into the Land of Boobological Firmness?
And is it so wrong that I want Angry Blonde White with the tiny side-boobs to shackle me to a radiator and spank me while dressed in a giant Snoopy costume?
