wasted raze they sit in their backyard at a round table. you'd think they were miles apart from the way they're yelling at one another, when they're close enough to breathe in the blend of their communal stink and call it a useful advance. their yappy dogs do the same thing. they learned it from them. i don't need to hear the words to know what's coming out of their mouths is moronic drivel drunk on its own self-importance. the mindless buzzing of their laughter gives it away. 220522 what's it to you? who go blather from