Thank you! :: blush ::
Yup. The ‘before’ pix are almost always less fake. [sub]Although, what with Photoshop and all, pictures just aren’t all that reliable anymore.[/sub] I know a lady here in T.O., she’s in her mid fifties, and she has long straight silver hair. She is a babe. (She’s also a Wiccan priestess, which is extremely cool and doesn’t hurt either…)
Scented deodorants give me a rash. I use ivory soap and water. Period.
No-one’s complained.
mhendo:
Many thanks.
Don’t thank me-- I gave you a bum steer. A little further digging turns up that I wasn’t thinking of that story after all, but the 1964 novel The Simulacra :
Something sizzled to the right of him. A commercial, made by Theodorus Nitz, the worst house of all, had attached itself to his car.
"Get off," he warned it. But the commercial, well-adhered, began to crawl, buffeted by the wind, toward the door and the entrance crack. It would soon have squeezed in and would be haranguing him in the cranky, garbagey fashion of the Nitz advertisements.
He could, as it came through the crack, kill it. It was alive, terribly mortal; the ad agencies, like nature, squandered hordes of them.
The commercial, fly-sized, began to buzz out its message as soon as it managed to force entry. "Say! Haven't you sometimes said to yourself, I'll bet other people in restaurants can see me! And you're puzzled as to what to do about this serious, baffling problem of being conspicuous, especially---"
Chic crushed it with his foot.
A pitch for another product:
The Theodorus Nitz commercial squeaked, “In the presence of strangers do you feel you don’t quite exist? Do they seem not to notice you, as if you were invisible? On a bus or spaceship do you sometimes look around you and discover that no one, absolutely no one , recognizes you or cares about you and quite possibly may even—”
With his carbon dioxide-powered pellet rifle, Maury Frauenzimmer carefully shot the Nitz commercial as it hung pressed against the far wall of his cluttered office. It had squeezed in during the night, had greeted him in the morning with its tinny harangue.
Broken, the commercial dropped to the floor. Maury crushed it with his solid, compacted weight and then returned the pellet rifle to its rack.
But not everyone truly lives.
Incidentally, I’ve seen the commercial. Whoever said it looked like he colored his beard with a black magic marker couldn’t have been more on target.
It’s commercials like this that make guys think that all women are shallow.
That is so true. Some of us are trying to wake up from the trance and find true life, with all its terror and beauty…
silenus
November 2, 2004, 6:38pm
46
True Life? What board can I find that at?
mhendo
November 2, 2004, 6:46pm
47
Well, thanks for the correction. From those excerpts, it looks like fun.
Dunno, but the SDMB is definitely a step in the right direction…
Ludovic
November 2, 2004, 7:17pm
49
uh oh, that’s kind of scary. I was just listening to music and what came on just as I read this…“Why should I be frightened of dying, you gotta go sometime…”
