On a starry night in the Chihuahus province, Phil and Sam had a post-coital urge to let our deepest thoughts run wild across a network of fiber optic cables . Thus came to be The Invisible Hand, in your pants. Despite little training in web design, writing or relevant discourse, we felt compelled to stake our claim on a little plot of Web 2.0 while this gold rush of self-importance lasts. It makes no difference to us whether you post comments or even visit the site. Our egos stroke themselves.


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