Garbage disposal versus terrible presidents, farm equipment versus megalomaniacal mannequins,
a lamp versus your dog,
your car tire that Saturday afternoon where you were late for work versus a shiny nail, and you wondered how the heck a nail could get lodged in a tire pointy-end-in... did someone stand the nail on its head in the middle of the road?

Go ahead. Put a bunch of cacti in a pillowcase, and attempt to retrieve just one. That's all you need, just one. Cactus jonesing. The needles embloodying your hand, all sticking out like frayed fiberglass, well, that's me.

The tales should be told of the mystical working-class: Those folks that work behind the scenes of the imaginary, just to make ends meet, or perhaps to jib at humandkind's struggle for the almighty buck.