Danger's Over, Banana Breakfast Is Saved.

Every Weirdo In The World Is On My Wavelength.

There Is No Real Direction Here, Neither Lines Of Power Nor Cooperation. Decisions Are Never Really Made – At Best They Manage To Emerge, From A Chaos Of Peeves, Whims, Hallucinations And All Around Assholery.

What, I Should Only Trust Good People? Man, Good People Get Bought And Sold Every Day. Might As Well Trust Somebody Evil Once In A While, It Makes No More Or Less Sense.

It Is A Curve Each Of Them Feels, Unmistakably. It Is The Parabola. They Must Have Guessed, Once Or Twice - Guessed And Refused To Believe - That Everything, Always, Collectively, Had Been Moving Toward That Purified Shape Latent In The Sky, That Shape Of No Surprise, No Second Chance, No Return. Yet They Do Move Forever Under It, Reserved For Its Own Black-and-white Bad News Certainly As If It Were The Rainbow, And They Its Children...

Explosion Without An Objective', Declared Miles Blundell, 'is Politics In Its Purest Form'.