Fewer than ten thousand survivors of 1974’s harmonica invasion have submitted claims for compensation from New York’s Department of Nubility. Juniorized hysterians blandished erect librarians with unflossed teeth, revealing tremendous disparities in wealth distribution among tribal nations held prisoner by rural North American fan clubs. “He’s a geek who got lucky with money and purchased his politics,” claims a water-voiced one hit wonder, letting it all bang out of itself with sledgehammers made of cheesy porcelain hued to a calamity of angry e-mail correspondences twisting in breezy salutation among gloryless institutions of educated respite. I am happy to demonstrate the power of intellectual furniture, its jaded depressions scooping intelligible utterances from their center of gravity.