I'm getting a little sick of the rabfro. I think by this time next week the rabfro may be gone. The rabfro!
I may do away with the rabfro in fits and starts and document it, like a performance art piece that no one will see. The rabfro!
What is it? Why did I do it? What did it hope to do that would leave its mark in the world? No one may ever know. But the real question is, how will it spend its last few desperate hours? If you were the rabfro and you knew you were going to die, what would you do? Smoke dope and look at spiders? Steal a car and run over people with it? Take a group of naked Chinese children hostage? Or just write a wistful poem about what might have been?