Tuesday, August 5, 2008

My Nightmare has a First Name...

Expect a trickle of further travel snaps, darlings, as the days go by, if only because August in this Sultanate is dull as the grave. And yes, our little problem of earlier today has seemingly been resolved. Thanks, Omantel!

Herewith, what has to be one of most horrific pieces of commercial promotion I have ever seen. Even worse than most of the serious Amsterdam street art, and that's saying a lot.

Yes, it's a hotdog, preparing himself - like some slave headed for the burial pyre in Olde Sumeria - for his own ingestion.

In what world could someone think that the sight of an anthropomorphic sausage enketchuping himself would encourage random passers-by to think, "Gee! He sure looks ... tasty!" like some latter-day Alferd Packers? It boggles the mind.

That this was located almost smack-dab in the middle of the park between the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum (yeah, we're cultured as well as adorable) somehow makes it only more of an atrocity.

1 comment:

  1. why am I strangely turned on?

    I need a shower.