In A Completely Sane World, Madness Is

Sooner Or Later, Everything Turns Into Television.

Perhaps The Future Belongs To Magic, And It's We Women Who Control Magic.

Across The Communication Landscape Move The Specters Of Sinister Technologies And The Dreams That Money Can Buy.

I Work For Three Or Four Hours A Day, In The Late Morning And Early Afternoon. Then I Go Out For A Walk And Come Back In Time For A Large Gin And Tonic.

The American Dream Has Run Out Of Gas. The Car Has Stopped. It No Longer Supplies The World With Its Images, Its Dreams, Its Fantasies. No More. It's Over. It Supplies The World With Its Nightmares Now: The Kennedy Assassination, Watergate, Vietnam.