Picture this: You're walking down the street, en route to your landlord's office to demand he extract the dead whatever-it-is from your A/C. You're minding your own business, putting one foot in front of the other, but slowly you start to let your surroundings in: an old man asking a teenager why aliens shot off his hands, a black rat building a grotto out of Coke cans, the twentysomething women in dresses the '70s want back doing their best Hannah Horvath, grown men in painted-on jeans with enough product in their hair to anchor an aircraft carrier, crust punks wrestling Egg McMuffins from their dogs, kids practicing cuss words on each other. Above it all, the wind carries the sweet tones of Wayne Wonder's reggae... More >>>