The institution of the Zoo Entertainment Industry is one of the magic card tricks anywhere in the current version of the Card Trick Kingdom. Nut. Nut. Who’s got The Nut. I am here to tell you that the punishment rendered to some animals in these glory shows abuse up close to some fancy dancing bears and Killer Lasers from Israeli Spies focused on Georgia Prostitutes. I am a Georgia prostitute. We know things. Like the ankle chains around an elephant’s legs. Like the Copenhagen zoo that slaughtered giraffes and had little kids there watching men saw pieces of the giraffe being cut and thrown to lions from a band saw. The zoo is morally cupable. The giraffes were dead. It was too late to save them. And there it is. It-Is-Too-Late. The Danish zoo is beneath contempt. It is too, too late for most species on the planet. Stop telling me there is still time. Where the fuck do you live. Americans cannot even bring themselves to envision the fact that all of us are a species. One like all the rest of the species, but we employ something called capitalism and capitalism is sacred. It can do no wrong. In truth, it does everything ass backwards. When told to get in the backseat of the car, you ran. You only wanted to survive. The only way to do it was to run like fucking hell. Ever since we know that there isn’t a shred of evidence to suggest that hordes of Mongolian warriors will arrive exactly like gentlemen at ten. The Blue Angels break the sound barrier above us as we sit in the outdoor section of a bar. There is only one. A bar where the Big Girl barmaids sell big picturesque postcards of pussy. I’ll take ten. We are not repented. We still have necks.