There is no sense in the world. There is no justice. There are only hands, and hands that do, and in so doing, create. They make. They mate. They self-congratulate for remembering how to spell four-letter proper nouns and include the dot when writing their letters. They exist.
HT Orson.
The creators seem to be avant garde Kansas State fans.
Voici la vie du brave Bucky. You may now carry on with your insignificant lives until such time as all times are this time, or John-Paul Belmondo makes a funny face.
