Manifestos

I and my partner (in crime if you must, mhmmhmmheh) have graciously invited strange and exotic characters to indulge in their own individuality, providing us with piquant minutiae of their quotidian existence.

These fragments of text remind me of that feeling I get in my void of gut when I see a homeless kid prostitute crying on the lap of her abusive father. That coffee stained flicker of life that seems to stand up and say 'hello'. These pages are filled with dirt from the underbelly of mankind. Precious in their insignificance, but whales in their tremoring sensibility.

Too many times have these personae non gratae confronted the proverbial wall of prejudice, this bastion of oppression which habitually coerces us all into servile acquiesence. This exercise of authority in such a burdensome, cruel, and unjust manner must desist.

These gritty pipes have been closed for too long. We just opened the valves to the disease-ridden bowels of your guilty conscience.

This work will transcend and reverberate through the fabric of any hopeless existence, but especially that of an independent entity. Our système bourgeoise stands to collapse over its own fatuousness. With these winged words, a small step is taken towards the goal: No more shall we endure the preposterous seed of our patriarchal camaraderie.

The more I taste the injustice of everyday life, the more I see the necessity of our actions. Your crimes shall not go unpunished.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter (mhmmheh.)

Dedicated to children, prostitutes and tax collectors.
Regards,
Fritz van Drache Faustkampf & Charles Göman