War Is Hell
Whoever came up with that particular phrase obviously never sold art on eBay. I find it frustrating, even though I understand the reality of the situation, that Big Dick I has been hanging with one bid for several days.
All's quiet, as they say, on the Western Front.
The reality of the situation--as mentioned above--is that there is no real benefit to bidding early in the eBay environment. When you add to this the idea that potential purchasers likely are all Wall Street professionals--savvy to the subtlties of deals, transactions, and auctions of all sorts--it is pretty easy to predict that nothing is going to happen between now and sometime early Monday afternoon. So I just have to sit tight; act like a man.
But at that point, that blessed moment on Monday afternoon, the shit will hit the fan (from my mouth to God's ears) and the bidding will take off. And then the eSnipers will emerge in the last ten minutes or so, adding their additional fever to the already smoking-hot proceedings, and when all is said and done, having consumed a fair quantity of Champagne, I will emerge from my office a happy man, step into 19th street, hail a cab and tell him to go to 536 West 41st Street, where I will place an order for a shiny red Mercedes CLS63 coupe--the one with the AMG performance package; a Deutsche Rod if ever there was one. A hammer with which to smite the Autobahn. A rocket-sled for the new Millenium.
In silver, it would be this:
But I'm afraid the silver doesn't scream mid-life crisis quite loud enough. Thus the red; and thus the AMG package.
It reminds me, particularly from the side, of the '86 Cadillac Seville that I bought from Mr. Italy, Mario Perillo, some number of years ago. The one with the strange bustle-back and high hip line.
And look, now it's red...although with perhaps too much ruby in it. I want real red, hot-rod red, not some bullshit version of red that automotive stylists think is red but which is really some bizarre take on brown.
The New York Times said, upon the car's introduction, that to view it from the rear quarter was to see a sight so beautiful you almost cried.
To paraphrase Harold Brodkey: "To see a car like this in sunlight is to see Marxism die."
It remains one of the few material possessions I crave.
All's quiet, as they say, on the Western Front.
The reality of the situation--as mentioned above--is that there is no real benefit to bidding early in the eBay environment. When you add to this the idea that potential purchasers likely are all Wall Street professionals--savvy to the subtlties of deals, transactions, and auctions of all sorts--it is pretty easy to predict that nothing is going to happen between now and sometime early Monday afternoon. So I just have to sit tight; act like a man.
But at that point, that blessed moment on Monday afternoon, the shit will hit the fan (from my mouth to God's ears) and the bidding will take off. And then the eSnipers will emerge in the last ten minutes or so, adding their additional fever to the already smoking-hot proceedings, and when all is said and done, having consumed a fair quantity of Champagne, I will emerge from my office a happy man, step into 19th street, hail a cab and tell him to go to 536 West 41st Street, where I will place an order for a shiny red Mercedes CLS63 coupe--the one with the AMG performance package; a Deutsche Rod if ever there was one. A hammer with which to smite the Autobahn. A rocket-sled for the new Millenium.
In silver, it would be this:
But I'm afraid the silver doesn't scream mid-life crisis quite loud enough. Thus the red; and thus the AMG package.
It reminds me, particularly from the side, of the '86 Cadillac Seville that I bought from Mr. Italy, Mario Perillo, some number of years ago. The one with the strange bustle-back and high hip line.
And look, now it's red...although with perhaps too much ruby in it. I want real red, hot-rod red, not some bullshit version of red that automotive stylists think is red but which is really some bizarre take on brown.
The New York Times said, upon the car's introduction, that to view it from the rear quarter was to see a sight so beautiful you almost cried.
To paraphrase Harold Brodkey: "To see a car like this in sunlight is to see Marxism die."
It remains one of the few material possessions I crave.
posted by Geoffrey at 11:59 AM
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