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In January, years ago, I took a trip to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada!. I flew Southwest into the methamphetamine valley. I was travelling with eight other women from my Mother's side of the family, spanning three generations; one of my cousins, at the time, a few months away from producing the fourth. After waking to see the sun pounding the western mountainside, I decided I would get up at 5:30am and walk there the next day. I drank for free all night, woke up at and started walking. Leaving The Strip. Vegas is such a new type place that the residential community that developed there doesn't follow the average American urban setting. People didn't move there over a course of fifty to one hundred years and slowly build up a variety of communities of character. Vegas is Suburban Sprawl. Tract housing. Uniformity. Il y a beaucoup des shopping plazas. I walked through the last tract that bordered the desert. A portal to another dimension. On one side there are speedwalkers taking advantage of the small track that surrounds their children on their neighborhood playscape, and on the other side there lies a tan landscape littered with cars that have been on fire at one time or another, garbage, a note stuck in the ground begging for "holiday donations for the man in the hills", mountains. I turned around and looked at Vegas. The place I sat was considerably higher than the point at which The Strip lay. Surrounded by mountains, Vegas is a container. The brown haze emitted from the Vegas machine is forced to sit on top. The Strip to the left. Downtown to the right. Airplanes and helicopters everywhere. Men in the hills. A Shark reef, a beach, flamingos in the desert. Valley of excess. Somewhere down there my grandmother is perched on a stool, pulling a lever over and over, trying to win big. |
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Advertising. As we delve deeper into understanding ourselves, there is a long line of people waiting at the printer to take the newly discovered information and exploit it for profit's potential. It's easy to know that if you have genital warts, life sucks. To advertise the medication, images of the antithesis of life sucking are shown. If this were not an exploitative act, then we would see pictures of clusters of cheese curd looking goo attached to someone's asshole in these images. The genital wart medication does not cause spontaneous vacationing on a pristine beach in a white flowy outfit entertaining slow motion. Such techniques are completely needed to be able to communicate with one another, but like the splitting of the atom, someone will want to fuck it up for everyone. |
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