Americans May Have No Identity, But They

Boredom Is Like A Pitiless Zooming In On The Epidermis Of Time. Every Instant Is Dilated And Magnified Like The Pores Of The Face.

Power Is Only Too Happy To Make Football Bear A Diabolical Responsibility For Stupefying The Masses.

Illusion Is No Longer Possible, Because The Real Is No Longer Possible.

Large Department Stores, With Their Luxuriant Abundance Of Canned Goods, Foods, And Clothing, Are Like The Primary Landscape And The Geometrical Locus Of Affluence. Streets With Overcrowded And Glittering Store Windowsthe Displays Of Delicacies, And All The Scenes Of Alimentary And Vestimentary Festivity, Stimulate A Magical Salivation. Accumulation Is More Than The Sum Of Its Products: The Conspicuousness Of Surplus, The Final And Magical Negation Of Scarcitymimic A New-found Nature Of Prodigious Fecundity.

Sadder Than The Beggar Is The Man Who Eats Alone In Public.