Here now the comment:
At 2:27 PM, Alvin the Apocalyptic Ant said...
("In the magazine's May issue, Westenhiser poses, leaning on a computer desk next to a stack of books with titles including 'All About Escrow' and 'Real Estate Principles.')
Is there anything hotter than a Playboy Playmate who understands the intricacies of the escrow process? I need a cold shower!
Now they're not just ringing a bell, they're sounding off sirens!
Who's left to join this ship of fools? Is the Pope gonna quit and become a mortgage broker? Is Terry Schiavo gonna rise from the dead and announce that she is planning to do some condo conversions in Boca?
I used to study semiotics---the examination of signs and symbols and how they can be used to signify larger meaning within systems and cultures. So I get kind of worked up when I see stories like this.
If this ain't a sign, I don't know what is.
It's like driving down a deserted highway and seeing a sign that says "Dead End". But you proceed. Then a few more signs crop up, "Road Ending", "Danger", "Cliff Ahead". But you proceed. Then an entire forest of signs, "Stop Now!", "You'll Be Sorry", "The End is Near". There are car parts and body parts strewn across the highway. There are vultures circling above. Black smoke rises in the distance. But you proceed.
And you go off the cliff...
As you plummet, you notice something very strange. There are no more signs.