Mack the pimp seeks extra glory for his killings. His gun posse threads secret dreamers with fantastic chemical goodies jacked up into the veins of unsuspecting whores – bursting blood and junk into a jetstream of horror. Those sick fucks will profit by anything and human flesh is their stock and trade. Social workers in sickly fashion explore the impossibility of purchased love and the perversity of the offer. These plug-in romances die of friction and the ten minute rule marks time to cough up the dough. We all have our price and some are cheaper than others. Rich politicians with bundles stuffed in their asses know that power pays dividends and the lack of it pays taxes.
They say love is the sweetest malady, but life has many twists. It may not last, it may not please. Love is the cheapest calamity paid for by the squeeze - nothing’s as hurtful as a love that’s gone bad. Everyone gets burned sometimes and the scars that burn most painfully are the ones that are faked for a few dollars more. Love for hire is the dirtiest of all and the taste it leaves behind is squalid and bitter.This is all there is, the centre of everything, wrought not by design, but by self induced life. This beautiful agony of immaculate chaos - all of it passes through your dynamic, enthusiastically attached to the core of want. You still want to love it all and you’re prepared to pay the price – if only for a taste of that synthetic thrill that holds you in its thrall.