All You Do Is Get On And

Trying To Exhaust Himself, Vaughan Devised An Endless Almanac Of Terrifying Wounds And Insane Collisions: The Lungs Of Elderly Men Punctured By Door-handles; The Chests Of Young Women Impaled On Steering-columns; The Cheek Of Handsome Youths Torn On The Chromium Latches Of Quarter-lights. To Vaughan, These Wounds Formed The Key To A New Sexuality, Born From A Perverse Technology. The Images Of These Wounds Hung In The Gallery Of His Mind, Like Exhibits In The Museum Of A Slaughterhouse.

Surrender To A Logic More Powerful Than Reason.

All You Do Is Get On And Start Pedaling . . .

The Future Is Going To Be Boring. The Suburbanisation Of The Planet Will Continue, And The Suburbanisation Of The Soul Will Follow Soon After.

It Was An Excess Of Fantasy That Killed The Old United States, The Whole Mickey Mouse And Marilyn Thing, The Most Brilliant Technologies Devoted To Trivia Like Instant Cameras And Space Spectaculars That Should Have Stayed In The Pages Of Science Fiction . . . Some Of The Last Presidents Of The U.s.a. Seemed To Have Been Recruited Straight From Disneyland.