If it's a hoax
it's only one today. This is fully gross enough to become a common Murican Pastime - with legions of new Fun Parks for the Neconmen and Fundamentalists of all stripes.
The guy's a genius at getting to Murican Core Farmily Valuez, after all the euphemisms are er stripped away. Biggest spenders: take a survey; I'd bet $5: CIEIOs and Repos will outnumber all other categories, hands and dongs down.
(Now if'n a few bambis are black, brown - make that $10)
Humiliation is the main pleasure of the real assholes of the earth, and we crank those out by the millions. Hell, they compete for Who's the Assholiest.. often at Sports Bars. And around the martinis after golf, in the Club)
Hmmm Paint Bars - a chain.. soon to overtake WalMart.
[At $5000 per bambi: you can have a little bit of lead shot in your paintgun; get to the root of the psychosis. Now at $100K {chump change} for any survivor - candidates bound & gagged, Gulfstream-imported direct from Thailand or other meat market . . .]
Ashton
nobody ever lost a penny overestimating the basic fuckedness of the CorpTheocracy and its mechano-man idols.
[re the filling-in of the deep end of the swimming pool]
What is left, really, to teach us of the wonders and perils of solo survivalism and accomplishment and desperate breaststroke struggle? What is left to impart hints of terror and bliss and little exhilarating winks of potential death?
What, in short, will supplant the deep end? The media? "Survivor?" War? The NRA? Dick Cheney's pallid hateful sneer? Not quite.
No, the demise of the deep end may not be the end of the world as you know it. But it's sure as hell the end of one of our more fascinating, and vital, deeper perspectives. Mark Morford SFGate 7/9/03
