pseydtonne: Behold the Operator, speaking into a 1930s headset with its large mouthpiece. (shelley)
[personal profile] pseydtonne
I had the creepiest dream. It ended with a lounge singer ruining a couple of otherwise lame songs. He then sang a song that may have been an original. the words definitely spelled out a hit! However, his range was so bad that I was stuck with the song in my head ten minutes after I woke up. Then it left my head before I could write it down. Given my chances at making a recording career, I'm going to let that one fly.

The weirder part of the dream was the bit with the catalog. At some point I'm in a resort hotel in the Catskills or Glens Falls or something equally Hudson-centric, too poor to survive were it not for its old mansion hotels. If it weren't for this place being on a sizable hill, I'd say I was dreaming about the Otesaga in Cooperstown.

I'm lying on a bed in one of the rooms, flipping through what at first looks like a color brochure for stores in town. Then I flip to the end of the brochure, as I like to do, and find pr0n. Not just basic pee-arr-zero-enn, either -- it's two women and a man up to you can guess what, but it looks like they're on Bourbon Street. In the upper left corner of the page is a description befitting a Land's End or Ikea catalog and a price for the service -- $668. I remember thinking that was awful steep and that the price must have included tax.

I kept flipping backward and finding creepier and creepier situations for rent -- two women dressed in baby blue pajamas with feet waiting to be scolded before you schtup them (I think that was $800-odd); a good reaming from a well-endowed man for $413 (I'd think they'd charge more for that, but perhaps demand has been down with the recession and all); and some more traditional fare for $200 and change.

I recall that I was shocked for a moment but then I concluded that this was a classic example of upstate New York towns gaining revenue by being sin capitals in the middle of bucolic turf. Here's a cow, here's a Revolutionary War battlefield, here's hot backdoor action. (Guess which one doesn't need to be subsidized?) No one is expecting prostitution, just as no one is expecting a four-color, shiny flyer to go with it.

Until the 1950s, the city hall in my hometown was in the middle of the whorehouse district. I think that says a lot about Utica.

-does Ikea do pornography? Dante
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