In other news, I am reading Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon. It is sent in late 60s California, and I am still not sure how "Doc" Sportello actually does any detecting since every single interview / interviewee brings their own marijuana. Seriuously, if I wasn't having enough fun with this book, I'd tot the joints up and produce some joint-per-page statistics. It is good, so I'm not. I'm still not sure how Doc is still vertical at this point. I don't want to know how he can drive in pitch-darkness while pursued by a bunch of acid-dropping surf-music zombies.
Yes. The surf-music band sound worrying alike the Beach Boys (and not entirely just because of their lyrics). Whether they eat brains is still unknown. After the holy LSD swami, I'm still not quite sure what is real; but I do know that Doc is not a holy space alien called krrrr.
(We leave that sort of thing to the Henlein fan club)