Ain't no game here, the title of this thing is, Property. If you write furiously and scream into a telephone, you will get a fish. If you shout at the wall and melt your crayons, you will get a fish. If you reduce the heat and simmer until thick, you will get a fish. So what has to happen if I really want a bicycle... Above all to see, this is where our culture goes forth from its rails and this is where it gets its broad strokes and its cathartic pass on almost everything it is. Here's where our ability for pattern recognition does not serve the self which is our best. Our rationality becomes beltless and it feels cumbersome rather than fresh. This is when it tugs at our trousers, here in the face of the rain and every time it seems new. Somewhere past the stars beyond the vast range of space is a final chunk of measurable vacuum that's plummeting swiftly into a more perfect distance. There are villains working there in the math between that place and here. The...