 I live in a hamster cage in New York City to protect myself from electromagnetic fields. My name is Frank Tafano. I'm 28 years old. I believe in taking care of myself in a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is dry, I'll put some prosciutto on it while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the prosciutto, I use Pellegrino to clean up my pores. In the shower, I use water-activated African black soap. Then I use Frankie's Hair Cement to make me as slick as Rick. After, I use a lemongrass-scented aluminum-free deodorant and on my testicles some vitamin D3 ball grease. Then I apply an egg white facial mask, which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use a tooth powder with little or no fluoride because fluoride has never been shown to prevent tooth decay and lowers your IQ. There is an idea of Frank Tafano. Some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.