My cats dropped a kibble, in their feasting frenzy, on the barren playa of my kitchen floor. Instead of swarming it, like they do with my human scatterings, the household ants encircled it, camped close to it, and, I swear, worshipped this nugget of sustenance for the nourishing value it must have contained. Is this what you folks do at Black Rock? Is this a loaded question? Am I loaded? There is no Reality, only Perspective...and from my Perspective, benevolent above the grouted tile, these ants LOVE their kibble-art, dropped from on-high by the gods of the holy hairball. I won't go to Reno, 'cuz The Truth is apparently here on my kitchen floor. I'll leave it 'til Labor Day when, at the appropriate moment, I'll fucken sweep that shit up and throw it away...hey, man, what did you expect...Art is Fleeting...dig?