It's not like that anymore really, but back in the day, nobody would let the Misfits open up for them, not the Ramones, not the Cramps, nobody.
And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.
The artist is the medium between his fantasies and the rest of the world.