These little guys are the faces of a Trojan virus. Technology defecates and the stink makes even Leviathan monsters hide their heads and cough. Swarms of little backsides drop these bits of blotting paper all over the place and when the wind picks up they blow into the nostrils of all sorts of party animals and beasts. Their talent is to take a crochet hook, pluck out souls from silicon sinus passages and pickle them in mercury. The sinuses discharge a stuck punctuation key firing commas at a target page of blank paper. Dabbadabbadabbadabba dabbadabbadabba. Sometimes “Stinky Poo Does Rule OK’ as immature graffiti reminds us and dresses itself up in glossy magazine pages blowing across the emergency runway. Defense contractors release species of post-war reconstruction litter into the flattened cities of friendly nations. Letters, numbers and labels point to different parts of the same drawing, they point anywhere except at themselves. Shit is an uncomfortable mirror and none of us would claim to look like those dumb turds in the diagram above.