Lib Tech

The future glows a crescent yellow... true technology needs no introduction. The end is near... counterfeit rocker peddlers cling and jostle like dingleberries, spawned from a toilet paper barren outhouse. The wretched stench of feebly veiled design hypocrisy seeps from the pores of desperate agency campaigns. You can patent fun, but friendship and love trump technology. Trust the pure Banana! Let it be your guide through winter’s crystal promise of stacked and steep as galaxies drift towards inevitable alignment. No line is straight, all points are near, volcanic organic sisters and brothers: touch serrated swords wrought near Canada and join us in our celebration of the final winter of innocence!

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