Omniscient, er, Carnival Barker: A’right, a’right ... Step right this way. Lose the attitude and listen up; it's time—you little punk shits—for some education. Come on in and sit on ol' Bri's lap ‘n he'll tell ya more than ya thought ya’d ever wanna know about that "element of society" whose numbers a relieved and grateful nation watched dwindle through the '70s to eventually reach virtual decimation during the decades preceeding the new millenium. That’s right folks, behind this very curtain you’ll not only see, but hear, a few of the freaks left whom—to great economic peril— dare tell their tales still today in side-street buskings well below Time-Warner radar and back-alley memoirs way the fuck off Barnes&Noble Boulevard. It’s for your instructive appreciation, then, that we present some of these bona fide social lepers, now supplanted by more-welcome, less-intimidating, logo'd versions of aberrant behavior.

What’s that, sir ... a new DIVERSITY, you say!?

In fairness, sir ... YES is the short answer to your demurral. The latest breed of “cool” does indeed field ALL MANNER OF OFFENDER, including perps of gratuitous capital violence—and I’m talkin’ ‘bout KIDS WITH GUNS; morally bankrupt practitioners of personal/corporate greed—THEIR PARENTS; as well as a whole array of bottom-feeding, chump-change players of the welfare/entitlements con—more precisely, those plenteous under-capitalized WANNABEES WHO LIVE NEXT DOOR to you, me‘n everybody else. But, uh, what’s yer goddamned point? Is McMahon gonna hafta give ya all a basic lesson in “apples to oranges”?

Okay, here’s his primer in a nutshell: To make room for the Colors of Benetton, hitchhiking merry pranksters were sent packing, along with dharma bums and selfless samaritans. It’s Merchandizing 101, see: you gain lucrative shelf space by getting rid of those hard-to-sell items like heart, soul, and humour. Hey, don’t tell Brian I said this, but if ya want some real bang for the buck once yer inside, forgodsake, get him started on the fates which befell artists of anarchy and peripetetic poets he knew personally.

What?

No way, man. You want more—buy a goddam ticket!

Step up, folks. Don’t be shy. Let not the wild herds which once freely roamed our great land bide away unknown or forgotten. Don’t stand dumb and blind as the country’s best days’re called to the faulty recollections of Harley-riding Ad Execs and Personal Injury Lawyers ... and there reviled. Know your forbears. Miss them! McMahon says it may one day be required for your goddamned redemption! Ditto, damn it!

Step up. He’s half hippie/half punk—he’s fucking two mints in one! He knows where you're goin’ ‘n from where the hell you’ve come. So, if any’a you even suspect ya can't handle it, don’t ... I say DO NOT... enter the line formin’ right now back’a these two little shits!

(Aside to the shits) Hey, kids, while can’t guarantee you’ve found your birth dad, ... HE SURE AS FREAKING HELL’S FOUND YOU!

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