Bling
In other news, clearly related, the ever-deepening global shitstorm led me to watch Direct Shopping Network last night. I am just there, channel surfing through tears, and there they are: rings. To my surprise, there are many rings for sale. Untold numbers. I finally contemplate the possibility that DSN has come into possession of all the world's rings. While all are truly ... something, one stands out. It is, in the words of the Pamela Anderson look-alike who is selling it, "very very unique". Not just unique, but "very very unique".
Imagine sand, wet, formed into a pocked blob, and then spray-painted gold. Not so much gold actually, but more the color of cat pee.
This is the main body of the ring.
The ring is placed on its side, facing you. It jogs metronomically 20 or so degrees totheleft-totheright-totheleft-totheright on a plastic beige mini-turnstile draped with a white linen hanky.
Let me give you a minute.
Okay, so then imagine that in the center of the gold pocked blob which is the ring there is a blue-green uhm, jewel. Not just blue green, but a "blue-green color that I (Pamelalike) has never ever seen before". Right away, I suspect that Pamelalike has never ever seen this blue-green color before because the color is neither green nor blue nor any combination of the two, but instead ... also the color of cat pee.
The jewel glimmers starrily through the star filter, as the jogging -- which I assume is meant to give you the impression of the ring slow dancing, or possibly just trying to get away from you -- never stops. But the jewel is only the centerpiece. And it would certainly, by itself, justify the original cost of the ring, even before Pamelalike, apparently induced by unseen forces hiding inside her hair, clutches her short skin-tight 1-button-will-do silk jacket right below her breasts and announces in astonished heaving saliva-rich gasps -- her exposed belly pooching rhythmically in time with astonishment -- that she "WILL slash the price of this fabulous piece" in spite of her "better judgement". But the jewel, which has a name like Beightjxk or Beetlejuice or something with a surfeit of consonants, and in the end a name nearly as "very very unique" as the stone itself, is not the end of the fun. One's eye, under Pamelalike's animated and sensual pied-pipering, is now directed to the jewel's four corners, from which wind itsy bitsy "diamonds of exceptional value", like streams of once gooey lava, now coagulated and dried and skeletal and in any case, introducing abruptly in the mind of the viewer the word: 'crypt'. From those diamond studded streams, erupt gold "stems of plants" and these, quite unlike stems of plants, zig-zag, thrust upwards and resolve in paired gobs of praying hands, which in turn clutch teeny-weeny hearts made of, yes, I know, it's almost too much to ask, but as luck would have it: "amazing diamonds from Africa".
The name of the exact village in Africa escapes Pamelalike, but is then, within a garbled crackling phhhzzztt, fed to her off camera by a more knowing drone: "Mongolia".
Mongolia, Africa. Great town. Love it there.
Inside the ring; that is, on its underside, darkly, where I would have expected to meet my father, Darth Vadar, is a gold honeycombed "underthingy". She repeats: "underthingy". It is, leit motifs running wild: a pocked and cat pee colored but sadly blingless band, drilled with irregular holes and curving along quite separately from the phantasmagoria above and then crudely bound to the sides in lumps of gold plated solder.
"So your finger can breathe", I said aloud, trying to help.
Original price: $2,460.00; sale price: $299.00. Which makes sense.
Pamelalike shows the ring to us once again, even if by now, I believe she is sharing her secrets only with me: this very very unique "I love it!" masterpiece from Mongolia, Africa ... under, over, around, then puts it on, or partly on, as her finger is too big for it.
Close-up. And for a brief time-not moment, her 1 inch squared-off fake fingernails, which are the exact hue of raw chicken, contrast incredibly with a bedazzled quilt of kitty urine-colored stars exploding from a giant knuckle.
Imagine sand, wet, formed into a pocked blob, and then spray-painted gold. Not so much gold actually, but more the color of cat pee.
This is the main body of the ring.
The ring is placed on its side, facing you. It jogs metronomically 20 or so degrees totheleft-totheright-totheleft-totheright on a plastic beige mini-turnstile draped with a white linen hanky.
Let me give you a minute.
Okay, so then imagine that in the center of the gold pocked blob which is the ring there is a blue-green uhm, jewel. Not just blue green, but a "blue-green color that I (Pamelalike) has never ever seen before". Right away, I suspect that Pamelalike has never ever seen this blue-green color before because the color is neither green nor blue nor any combination of the two, but instead ... also the color of cat pee.
The jewel glimmers starrily through the star filter, as the jogging -- which I assume is meant to give you the impression of the ring slow dancing, or possibly just trying to get away from you -- never stops. But the jewel is only the centerpiece. And it would certainly, by itself, justify the original cost of the ring, even before Pamelalike, apparently induced by unseen forces hiding inside her hair, clutches her short skin-tight 1-button-will-do silk jacket right below her breasts and announces in astonished heaving saliva-rich gasps -- her exposed belly pooching rhythmically in time with astonishment -- that she "WILL slash the price of this fabulous piece" in spite of her "better judgement". But the jewel, which has a name like Beightjxk or Beetlejuice or something with a surfeit of consonants, and in the end a name nearly as "very very unique" as the stone itself, is not the end of the fun. One's eye, under Pamelalike's animated and sensual pied-pipering, is now directed to the jewel's four corners, from which wind itsy bitsy "diamonds of exceptional value", like streams of once gooey lava, now coagulated and dried and skeletal and in any case, introducing abruptly in the mind of the viewer the word: 'crypt'. From those diamond studded streams, erupt gold "stems of plants" and these, quite unlike stems of plants, zig-zag, thrust upwards and resolve in paired gobs of praying hands, which in turn clutch teeny-weeny hearts made of, yes, I know, it's almost too much to ask, but as luck would have it: "amazing diamonds from Africa".
The name of the exact village in Africa escapes Pamelalike, but is then, within a garbled crackling phhhzzztt, fed to her off camera by a more knowing drone: "Mongolia".
Mongolia, Africa. Great town. Love it there.
Inside the ring; that is, on its underside, darkly, where I would have expected to meet my father, Darth Vadar, is a gold honeycombed "underthingy". She repeats: "underthingy". It is, leit motifs running wild: a pocked and cat pee colored but sadly blingless band, drilled with irregular holes and curving along quite separately from the phantasmagoria above and then crudely bound to the sides in lumps of gold plated solder.
"So your finger can breathe", I said aloud, trying to help.
Original price: $2,460.00; sale price: $299.00. Which makes sense.
Pamelalike shows the ring to us once again, even if by now, I believe she is sharing her secrets only with me: this very very unique "I love it!" masterpiece from Mongolia, Africa ... under, over, around, then puts it on, or partly on, as her finger is too big for it.
Close-up. And for a brief time-not moment, her 1 inch squared-off fake fingernails, which are the exact hue of raw chicken, contrast incredibly with a bedazzled quilt of kitty urine-colored stars exploding from a giant knuckle.
posted by Merlin Sulchek at
9:07 PM
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