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Dave Barry Is Not Making This UpScene from the tour: We’re in the TV room, which has mirrors on the ceiling and a squint-inducing navy-blue-with-bright-yellow color scheme. “You’ll notice the three TVs in front of you,” the guide says. “This is an idea Elvis got from Lyndon Johnson.” Now we’re in an outbuilding, originally built for Elvis’s extensive model-racing-car layout (which he quickly got bored with and gave away) and now housing a memorabilia display. We pause before a display of extravagantly over-decorated jumpsuit costumes. “Elvis found the fringe to be a problem onstage,” the guide is saying, “so he moved on to outfits that were more studded.” The tour ends when, in a bizarre juxtaposition, we move from Elvis’s racquetball court to his grave, out by the swimming pool. This is where the True Fans often break down. The tourists, though, usually just take pictures, then head back across the street to the plaza of stores selling licensed souvenirs. This is a place where good taste never even tries to rear its head. Just about anything they can put a likeness of Elvis on and sell, they do. You can get, for $2.95, a decanter shaped like Elvis wearing a karate uniform. You can get some Love Me Tender Conditioning Rinse. If you like to read, you can get a copy of I Called Him Babe—Elvis Presley’s Nurse Remembers, You can get sick ...» |
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