There are three castes of people in our late-capitalist world: the ultra-rich, those who work for them, and everyone else.
If we’re fortunate, we’re like the Kim family—we get lucky and manage to weasel our way into the second caste, then hold on for dear life.
Very few of us are like the ultra-rich Park family: living in glass mansions, employing the Kim family to drive us around and cook our food and look after our children.
But how long can this balance last, with so few having so much and so many having so little?
Not very long, it seems.
Have you ever dropped liquid LSD onto your left pupil? It burns. A lot. And then everything starts to get a little funny. And then everything starts to get a little goofy. And then everything starts to get a little confusing. And then everything starts to get super scary harrowing terrifying what is happening what is reality we were dancing now raking knives across each other’s ribs children screaming sisters fucking brothers forced abortions broken bones broken faces raw flesh get me out get me out get me—
See, there’s your Brooklyn and then there’s Brooklyn Brooklyn. Notcha matcha latte organic tricycle glass and metal hashtag selfie Brooklyn. Im talkin stickball, porkpie hats, Ownsmobiles, dames, bribes, protests, Blacks livin next to Jews livin next to Eye-talians, where power means you can do whateva you want and no one can do a thing about it. That Brooklyn. My Brooklyn.