I have this fantasy. I'm leaning against the bar of a nightclub chock full of people wearing vintage-bought style glasses, the kind without any lenses. I'm surrounded by them. They're texting, wiggling around, dismissing everything that they are (because it has been made cool to not be what you actually are). Then, when the boppy ironic pop record playing in the background stops, I turn to one of the falsely be speckled partygoers and poke him right through the empty lens hole. His glasses fall ...

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