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duct tape drapes there are few problems that can't be solved with duct tape; take for instance amphetamine-induced paranoia: everyone is watching and the newly-hung venetian blinds do not go all the way to the bottom. duct tape to the rescue. what the paranoid will need is: a pair of scissors, a black and white checkered ladies evening jacket (rescued, by the way, from ignanimous repose on the racks of the Goodwill store), thread and a sewing needle, a pack of Doral cigarettes, and, of course, the duct tape. patience is required as the needle is hard to thread what with the artist's rapidly bobbing head, nervous fingers, and pleasantly growling stomach. after the jacket is cut to exacting standards, the top is doubled over and sewn to the bottom of those pesky blinds. a cigarette needs to be smoked at this point as parameters are determined and aesthetic appeal taken into account. then, ah, the delicious gray king of all repair kits. ooh, hear it tear off its roll. eeh, hear it ripped to exacting length. see how it adheres? see how it takes those fray-prone edges and turns them into a clean scar of fiber and gum? see how it blends completely wrong with all the elements of the room, yet somehow finds a happy place in the mind? duct tape is the universal salve to the misplaced moment, the conjoined flop. the artist, once finished, can be extraordinarily proud of his newly-created window coverings or sock-stuffed mouse hole in the floor or basketball shoe repair or card table leg retrofit. because it is the small victories o my brother. it is the small victories.
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