I felt compelled to post right here, right now. Normally many, many wonderful posts never make it here or are delayed, just because…umm…sorry…where was I? I think I was going to mention something about an attention span, or lack thereof. (I like thereof, as much as I like albeit, even steven no more no less, one seems a mashup, the other probably some sort of mashup after prolonged microwave exposure.) Yeah, so either it's an attention span thing, or laziness, or that same quality that tends to cause many of us to read those blurbish articles in the front pages of magazines, while forgoing anything that extends beyond two pages that isn't chock full of lovely pictures, unless of course we're in the loo, since we are then held captive by our own colon.
The reason I post, is Banksy. I could go to some lengths (albeit, short lengths (there's the albeit, and my calling card nested parentheses again)) to search to see whether I've mentioned Banksy before, here at TBIMB. I'm nearly certain, I have, but I choose to hypothesize without a definitive proof.
Yeah, Banksy. UK-based stencil artist, does the cute thing, does the political thing. Master of both stencil and switcharoo. Like Savior Faire, he indeed is everywhere. And now he fucks with the diamond-encrusted trainwreck that two consenting adults once begat and granted the moniker Paris Hilton.
Paris came out with a CD, apparently, she sings. I know this because I've heard it. Banksy says, let's have a little fun with Paris, since at this point he's probably the only one who hasn't.
To explain the rest would be like Aquaman explaining his actual summoning of a school of hammerhead sharks to yada, yada, yada. In other words, the links tell the story. If the links don't in this case, then there is no sense linking. We don't need no superhero voiceovers telling us what our eyes do a much better job of.
I end sentences with of. I did it again of. That last one didn't need the of. Nor that one.