“Jack’s Journal. Nov. 12, 1985: Discarded cup in alley this morning, tire tread on burst straw. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of ketchup and when the drains finally crust over all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their grease and soda will foam up about their waists, and all the pigs and gluttons will look up and shout, ‘Feed us!’
And I’ll whisper, ‘No.’”
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