The LLC: always a treasure trove of crazy shit.
First, Bwog ran across boxes begging for the anonymous return of John Jay plates, silverware, and salt and pepper shakers, like those boxes at summer camp where counselors told you to put your drugs when no one was looking, no questions asked. I mean, we all do it.
Then, Bwog noticed a little note scrawled on the corner of a poster calling out an ethnic slur. Surely, the best forum for fighting racism and intolerance in all its forms.
Finally, there is a couch in Hartley’s fast elevator. Said a Bwog tipster at 3:30 AM: “I’m sitting on it right now…The absurd part is that I get wireless internet here, sitting inside this thick-walled metal box, and not in my room.”