This is an epic clusterfuck. Let's sort things out.

1. Pac Man makes another guest appearance.

2. I've never been to a coffee shop that was named "Coffee Shop." "Highland," "Front Porch," "Canadian Moose," "The Mattcave," all of these are more acceptable than "Coffee Shop." They're more commonly referred to as "houses" anyhow, unless you're into that Starbucks bullshit, or you know something I don't.

3. Notice how many people are crammed into this small glass building. Six hundred. Fire codes? Fuck your fire codes.

4. Note that two human children have been left out in the cold while a cat has been let in.

5. Every building is made out of at least 85% glass.

6. Finally, take heed of the sign: Poetry Night. If it is Poetry night, why in the fuck is a cat standing on stage, twirling a basketball why dressed as a basketball player straight out of a Harlem Globetrotter's worst coke-off-a-hooker's-ass induced nightmare, speaking in symbols that look to have been stolen from a box of Lucky Charms?

The Short Answer: Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

The Long Answer: Peter Gallagher was watching MTV one night after snorting coke from a Harlem Globetrotter's afro when "YO MAMMA!" flooded his retinas. He figured that this is what poetry became (the last book of poetry he read being a first printing of "Leaves of Grass," the launch party for which he attended), and also heard that Coffee Shops were a popular hangout for poets, who dress in throwback jerseys and act like cockbags on and off the stage in front of the six hundred professional men and women who come to watch this spectacle.

With Pac Man as the MC, can you blame them?