Hors d’œuvre to her forthcoming full-length, The Romance of Happy Workers, Boyer's Apocalypse sends a zippy rain of frogs and fire on the notion of Culture as an extractive industry, plagued with the same brutes and Romans busy wrecking the commons everywhere else. "When I smell Arthur Daniels Midland/it is as if an oligarchy has dived into the wreck," or "imagine if Anne Frank/were just another educator for Planned Parenthood/parking her big white car." Be hungry, keep calm, stay tuned.
I'll have to read this again, but for some reason I like it more than Romance of Happy Workers. Maybe there's something more unhinged about it that appeals to me.