Today, I saw Keegan and Logan stumbling back to their $2800 a month loft in their 19th century barber and paperboy outfits after celebrating another year of funemployment and Brooklyn homogenization by drinking cruelty-free champagne in which the grapes were asked nicely to juice themselves rather than being stomped; and eating local, organic Bushwickian cheese laced with red beard hair and American Spirit cigarette ashes. So I gave them each an uppercut; ran their brochure-like bodies through a paper shredder and tossed the confetti around my still normal and actually diverse neighborhood. End of story.