The Triple-Print Kid (the benign Nazi-youth that adorns the little packets you find in magazines for all your old-school, photographic film) stared up at me from the dirty toilet floor as I pissed dejectedly (which is the only way to piss at 4 am). I noted he was on all the photos showing the triple-print quality & variations thereof. His teeth had gaps you could hide refugees in. In one picture he had his arms draped over two pre-pubescent girls (their faces sharing the expressions found on the faces of Russian sex slaves) like some child-pimp.
Clearly, he runs the company.