Take me parodic caravan - yes I know you can

Indeed, where do we drag it . . . or should we allow it to carry us? There is no doubt that this bit of the electronic ego-press has often lacked its its own drive-train, hardly is it Edgar Cayce's prophesied machine, but does that mean it should lapse into poverty and despair? Can it not still have a unique taste all its own? No doubt the easy thing is to simply allow the rot to filter by as Friends of Shelby: (who is whom here?)



And yet, you offer up a man who changes his name to mark his reverence for his favorite American author and fetishized weapons and hats . . . hats man! Perhaps the funneled end is narrow but that can also serve to focus the flow my friend - be that what is wished of course. Tell me there is nothing to be considered, nothing to be pondered, take a look, and tell me there is nothing:



How should it be played sir, and not that sittin and waiting for tea is a bad thing and the Popeyes does a fine biscuit and honey.

-fp