The joke's on them. At least I think.
I visited the Edmonton Journal's online website, to read an editorial trashing Harper. Imagine! Over the F-35 scandal. Edmonton is STILL in Alberta, am I right?
And what do you know. The EJ masthead contained an advertisement for Sotheby's Quebec.
I'm being followed. On Google. (This Blogger site is a Google site.) It's not like they didn't warn me. And I'm using Google's ALL SEEING EYE to my advantage (I think) by having my digital books Threshold Girl and Looking For Mrs. Peel and Milk and Water available to all in Google Documents.
But the joke REALLY is on them.
Just because I've been scoping Sotheby's International, it doesn't mean I am in the market for a 10,000, 000 dollar home. Surprise!!
In fact, if I didn't own a home already, I probably couldn't afford any home anywhere.
A 'tapestry' I bought from a 'little old lady' artisan. I was going to buy one online, but then went local. So old-fashioned on me. The panels contain pretty birds, medieval style.
The store is Tissus Something in Hudson, Quebec. Decors et Tissus Serenity. (Now, in Hudson we have funny names like that. Ye Olde Curiosité Shoppe for another. It's to evade the language police.)
Walmarts and Targets are taking over here, too, just like everywhere else. But some little shops still survive.
Ok. So, I've been visiting Sotheby's for the same reason, ahem, many men visit porn sites. (I imagine.) To get my thrills. Oh, and to steal...Ah, to steal beauty, that is. To steal beautiful world-class views, especially. And to steal decorating ideas.
(Not that all multi-millionaire homes are beautifully appointed. Just some of them, as I've recounted on this blog. So I can condescend too, sometimes. "Get a decorator, for Heaven's Sake. You have the money. Ah, rich people these days. No taste!")
I do it to gaze upon brilliant New York apartments. Soothing California sea-side villas. And it has worked. I've totally redone my humble split-level abode, without spending a red cent. (Well, maybe I spent a couple of them, for fake flowers at Walmart for my amourettes pattern Verre Francais heirloom nouveau/deco vase.)
Apparently, even if I did have 10,000,000 dollars to put down on a penthouse apartment in Manhattan, I couldn't get in anyway. The other tenants, apparently, are very particular about who they allow to take up residence in their co-ops. If you buy a 10,000,000 apartment, you must have at least ten times that in liquid assets, or you won't be allowed 'into the club.' (Let me check my last bank statement......No!)
It isn't about blood anymore. Family background. It's about cold cash. There isn't any old money, anymore. Just new money. (I heard this on the BBC, so it must be true.)
So the joke's on them, those evil omniscient marketing gods.
So, OK. YOU EYE IN THE CLOUD. Here's some advice. You have to read BETWEEN THE LINES to find out how I am willing to spend my minuscule amount of disposable income. Can algorithms do that? Read between the lines.
A giant cut out of Colin Firth might do for instance. Or, maybe, some very realistic looking plastic fruit. Those fresh lemons I placed in the bright red bowl look great, but they dry out. And then I have nothing to put on our Greek salad.
Just a suggestion, from a plain ordinary modern day serf-level consumer - and self-styled Sotheby's fantasist.