There's another scene I allowed myself to notice with such ugly under and overcurrents that I'd be remiss, I'd be wrong and not good I mean, not to make you attentitive toward. The young woman is called Claire Robins. She's very yound and dimply with a shortish haircut that implies awkwardness and possibly a former trauma. She also has that incongruous French Manicure they must issue at LAX to incoming women seeking something that isn't there. Anyway, in her scene when is blown banged by 5 or six guys, at least half of whom are black meatball guys. The white guys are mostly silent. The black guys are very vocal and address young wispy Claire as "bitch" far more times than I could count. Such as "Straighten up yo head, bitch" or "My balls be bouncin' off ya nose, bitych. NBA playoffs. Them balls be bouncin' bitch" or this rerally wonderful one that I wrote down "I know what you're thinkin', bitch: 'How I get myself in this situation?'" It's riveting, very funny, and even more sad as young Claire from progressive Portland endures this with a cracked smile as reveal to acute unease. I looked her up, and apparently she left pornography behind. I like thinking and watching and masturbating. Maybe it's more musing than thinking. Or maybe I misinterpret the confluence of watching and masturbation as indicative of higher brain functions. That's what I saw today. I saw Claire Robinson. Balls be bouncin', bitch. Off ya nose.