For years, I’ve driven past the revival palazzo–the one with the Hummer and the Ferraris and the Porsche, the one that’s just the exactly wrong color of chiffon yellow–on my way in or out of town, and I’ve wondered who? And then I saw him walking the little dog, the portly man with the toupee the colors of a red ruffed lemur. I am now at peace.
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the making of, by greg allen