We are wordsmiths from the olde country. Lurking in independent bookstores, going to events, waiting for the right moment to show our hand. We can write circles around you, but weren't born into money. Our uncles don't work at the New Yorker. We don't have trust funds. We are happy with that. Developing our fictive voices in small groups all over the city. Waiting for the signal to hijack another literary event gone bad.
We will give you enough rope to hang yourselves, but when you start twisting in the wind, and hear disco music blaring, we are the ones dancing merrily as you draw your last breath of revelance. We take shit over. Your event becomes another Philly Word Mafia Hoedown, jawn, mashup,wankathon,scrum or tea party .
We are no bullshit, just good words. We are your biggest fan if you can sling some prose and your worst enemy if you are a poseur, prep school nobody, or general wanker at large.
Coming soon to a literary function near you. Because words just want to have fun.
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