Every now and again, a friend will hail me with news of a lovely piece of real estate newly on the market. Since I am always looking for a deal, a laugh, or a shorter walk to a dock, I'll follow the scent.
Since the cathartes (vultures, if you won't click) that deal in so-called "real" estate are acquaintances, I know that they cannot help themselves but to put their listings (or "ads") in any cheap, ethically-malleable tabloid with meaningless filler written by eager freelancers who are happy to get paid in free copies of the issue because their work is on the page facing a sports bar ad with a bosomy model.
Yes, it's that ugly little magazine that dare not speak its name -- even on what appears to be its own website -- because of possible lawsuits from the brewers of a major component of an Alabama Slammer. Out of its terrible Twos, the publication is crapper-diving into its third year of defacing the local literary scene, all the while insisting that "EVerybody says great things" about it. And enough people must fall for that line of bull -- "oh, print is making a huge come-back, and the pictures are so pretty" -- because the magazine is loaded with full-page real estate ads. And the full page ad for the Zeiterion. And the full-page ad for that place that keeps changing its name. But there's also full-page ads for the business owned by the guy who crapped the first edition out. I wonder if each advertiser gets the same rate card.
Now, either this guy is a writer-and-headache model with pathetic rhetorical skills, or somebody's got some splainin' to do.
At least to the clipart guys.