Beware the false flag operations of the Alvin Corn Cleaning Squad

Our home was a junkie's hovel, a mangy morass of scattered papers and shriveled snack wrappers, a fetid swamp of moldy, mildewed artifacts, dullbrown crumbly stuff, open bottles of synthetic Victory Gin that exuded a sickly, oily smell and tasted like nitric acid, and other flotsam. — Read the rest