MALIBU:
Cat Stevens once sweetly crooned that morning had broken. At ‘Bu House, it was morning and everything in sight was broken. There comes a time when the reveler must recompense-in-full the staggering price for his or her unconstrained jollification. That ugly, torturous – and quite often liquid-infused – occasion was “now” for the sorrowful survivors of this ‘Bu bash. The glorious rising sun only spotlighted the sheer worsomeness and carnage on display. Moaning, stricken bodies were strewn about the room like the French after the Battle of Golden Spurs. People were passed out in limpid pools of snack food and cold cut vomit. Some their own. Some donated by strangers. Dionysus had fled the building and only damned Oizys remained.
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 