the last train to illville.  everybody hang out hard, okay.  i don't care where or whom with or why or whatever, i just care about how: hard.  maybe all you need is portable cardboard or a gasoline razor, i don't know, it's your prerogative, right.  not quasi-hard.  not pseudo-hard.  not e-hard.  i mean like who-let-the-mimes-out hard.  those guys are real.  'cause they're from the street.  les biches.