I was wondering what this concentrated cacophony reminded me of, and Rifleman's introduction of Bob Dylan into the debate brought it home to me.

The first verse and chorus of Dylan's Desolation Row.

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row.

That's how I see it, anyway!