Howard Akers

There's a certain kind of art that can only come from a mentally unbalanced drug addict rambling in the street in a complete word salad. Maybe he might talk about how he owns a farm, or how he's got a doctorate in physics. Maybe he randomly changes the name he gives you or repeats a quote he remembers from something he read when he was 13. Maybe he sings a random jingle he heard on TV once. This is that experience for two hours.