Everyone loves an appearance, even when it is denounced, as in modern architecture (although the newer versions are damn cheap).  How can we escape appearances?

One of the implications of an address to humor that "doesn’t try" for it, is that the comic in this dimension is more often found than invented...

Stuff that oozes, creeps, falls, breaks off, jumps away from what is intended; material that (just barely) falls out of step.

Tales from the pit, that's about it, I'm somewhere in the middle and I don't give a split. Dancing, energetic, amplified... If you are in a moshpit, you are in action...

Two shadowy figures meet. Are they conjurers of black magic, quietly provoking the natural world, or simply engaged in some private fetish play?

"Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore..."