Oil from Pandora’s box smothers our mother world, and pop goes the Beezeal Bub, you’ve got problems: because — frothy fickle freeways push California outbound into a grass land of otters chomping into illusory hippies, swimming into sunsets, encapsulating bunnies sniffing glue. Moldy hibiscus blossoms waft no scents of pernicious nonsense into the empty mind … Continue reading OILY