It was over by 1922, the standards were thrown out the windows along with the leaping men, leaping frogs, and leaping dogs. Everyone jumped up at once and time was reset to your clocks. We included you in our public gatherings-groups of surrealism and pop art punk rock. The purpose was to ridicule your need to follow the rules, your need suck on society’s cock. We represented the opposite: a phenomenon bursting forth; a work of destruction and we begat a monster and a savior a moral and economic crisis lay waste everything to the path. Everything has become the victim of sacrilege as if it really does exist-nothing exists; we are nothing; you are nothing-nothing rules. You say there are absolute truths but that is just bullshit, you live to spread your fucking bullshit, petting the cat with the big teeth, hugo ball “karawane” (nonsensical words), samy rosenstock, the gas heart handkerchief of clouds, razor blade jackals, dancing penguins, the approximate man-humanist and serving as a spell, a brief moment in time as the world spins and you consume more bullshit to pacify your feeble brain; entertain, dance you bears, dance as we play the music. When the music stops we will kill you just like before. It doesn’t matter nothing matters not even your cell phone bill and the balance on your credit cards.