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It must be a slow time for news reporting when even the Washington City Paper has to scrape the bottom of the barrel for a feature article. Such is the case with the sad spectacle of Patrick Tracey’s story on “psychogeography” (“The Drifters,” 7/24). Tracey showed what can happen when you reach the bottom of the gene pool, following around Bracken and his “drifters” in the pursuit of “psychogeography,” using doublespeak in place of the truth—a band of tramps, hobos, and homeless psychotic sociopaths committing random acts of graffiti in a pathetic attempt to justify their miserable existence. It is sad to see Tracey’s gullibility in buying in to the rabid rantings and ravings of such psycho-babbling simpletons, who emerge from the muck below Key Bridge and other hellholes to make their statements of desperation, providing yet another demonstration of how a mind can be a terrible thing to waste (especially if Bracken and his ilk forget to take their medication).

The truly bizarre aspect of all this is the ages involved. These losers are baby boomers who never left behind the “Revolution” mentality of the ’60s, misguided into believing that their graffiti will change something when all they’re doing is defacing signs. They don’t understand that the ’60s are long gone. Timothy Leary is dead. Woodstock is over. Get used to it.

Bracken and his ilk can continue to act out their crude remake of Monty Python and the Holy Grail in their theater of the absurd, but eventually, as the notorious Iranian hanging judge, Ayatollah Khalkhali, once said, “Reality will always prevail.” Dogs like Bracken bark, but the train moves on.

Alexandria, Va.