Back when I was young, drunk, communist I sold Marxism on the streets wearing a beret, and a head full of idealism. It was difficult to dodge the head lulls of dullness, but somehow I survived as an entire sector of humanity reassured themselves they were alive with strange pats on the backs, and constant "howdy howdy[s]." One night I was sucked into a conversation so dull I had to close my eyes and write secret manifestos in my head, and dream of intellectual music and that's when it hit me . . . I was one of them.