
This gem, called "Lucy in the Field with Flowers," is from the Museum of Bad Art in Masschusetts More...
Observations of a civilization on the verge of everything - as seen from my window in New York City framing the Empire State Building (built at the height of the last Great Deflation)
Meanwhile in Brooklyn, Alex and her wife Simon were going clothes shopping. IN BROOKLYN. Isn't that disgusting? They sifted through piles and piles of garbage, their hands red and raw from the broken bottle shards and hobo-scrapes, flaming cats running by them, screeching into the night. Eventually they found a soiled heap of garments at some trendypants boutique in Williamsburg. Alex was kind enough to explain to us that where they live, in Cobble Hill, it's all fancy tea and crumpets and no one ever farts, but up here in hipster town Billsburg, it's anything goes. If you can lash it around your emaciated legs and sport it like a pant, you can wear it. So Alex strapped herself into various ensembles while Miss Simon sat on the sidelines, giving bitchy commentary like "If that's charmeuse, then I'm Diana Rigg." The young designers and owners of the store seemed scared and befuddled, shifting awkwardly in front of the cameras and these strange, cawing ostrich people. Glad for the attention, but frightened of the consequences. Meanwhile, in the store's backroom, a man with a pointy goatee in a red satin suit cackled as he clutched a document signed in blood. "They're mine..." he hissed. "All mine..."More...
More...When a fireman sees a house on fire, he sounds an alarm, dons his turnout gear, bravely rescues the occupants and puts out the fire.
When an investment banker sees a house on fire, he quietly sells the burning house short, uses the proceeds to buy a larger house for himself and, when someone suggests that his taxes be raised to help the homeless, he rails against the dangers of socialism.
New York is a horror show on the feast day of its patron saint; a cauldron of pseudo-Irish-American yahoo, imho.
So there.
More...If there is something to desire,
there will be something to regret.
If there is something to regret,
there will be something to recall.
If there is something to recall,
there was nothing to regret.
If there was nothing to regret,
there was nothing to desire.
"When reality is labeled unthinkable, it creates a kind of sickness in an industry. Leadership becomes faith-based, while employees who have the temerity to suggest that what seems to be happening is in fact happening are herded into Innovation Departments, where they can be ignored en masse. This shunting aside of the realists in favor of the fabulists has different effects on different industries at different times. One of the effects on the newspapers is that many of their most passionate defenders are unable, even now, to plan for a world in which the industry they knew is visibly going away."Will anyone hear the last whimper? More...