Hard to tell what is satire or parody in this life, as it does such a smash-up job with its special sweet-sour mash-up all its own. Life, poker-faced, says it's playing straight with us, dealing from the top of the deck.
We remain fantastically doubtful about that here. When we absorb our daily ration of information, insipidness, and fear, via newspapers, we hold them up to the mirror and read everything from there. This way, we don't have to look the news in the eye, not directly at it. We avoid the Gorgon's gaze. Plus, we are embarrassed for the news, at all the sludge and drivel in there. We handle newspapers with metal tongs, so we don't get any on us.
This one's still a howler, about a New York apartment just sold: A Russian fertilizer magnate -- who could make this stuff up? -- bought this titantic penthouse apartment, just 88 million dollars, ka-ching, from who knows which pants pocket that change fell, from petty cash, maybe, or, emulating his CEO peers here, merely chump change from the coffee-and-retirement-fund out at work.
Maybe it came from locking out workers who failed to accept a 75% cut in pay, hiring scabs for a dime on the dollar, or creating multiple-tier payment schemes according to date of hire. Lots of ways to go in building a fortune, don't you know. Could be all legit, who knows?
Yes, for 88 million, that must be one hell of an apartment, and that must have been one unimaginable tower of manure to buy a spot like that, way up, so high up in the sky. This purchase by the world's 93rd-richest man is thought to be for his 22 year-old daughter.
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