Tearing aimlessly in Greenbelt3 my eyes beheld the precise embodiment of everything that induces thunderous spasms of lust in me. I try to resist its blinding appeal but in the case of most obsessions my judgment is instantaneously reduced into that of a pathetic, slobbering idiot. Sanity charges that I shouldn’t fixate over it; that there are much more pressing things in life that need undivided attention (world peace for instance)— but I am beyond help.
Ladies, lads and every other hormonal species in between, if you want a sex slave, memorize the following to stuff in my Christmas sock.
The Hallowed Bang & Olufsen. They have opened their flagship store in the third world!
I have repeatedly written in the past that I have the taste for Veuve Clicquot but am cursed of having the budget for SanMig Strong Ice. This glaring fact doesn’t stop me from the delusion of someday owning the überstylish BeoCom2 Phone, the BeoSound9000, BeoCenter2 (or the BeoSound3200) sound system and the convention-defying BeoVision9 flatscreen. Whenever I see magazine spreads featuring them I get wildly aroused, it’s embarrassing. It’s as if the tasteful acoustic advancements of BeoLab5/Beolab8000 is directly hotwired to my crotch.
Bang and Olufsen was also the trigger of a bitter argument between me and my pseudofriend Nicodemus. Nicodemus is a bonafide audiophile. His father’s home boasts of high-fi audio, video, theater systems and obscenely priced super speakers having the price tag of two million pesos. Each. Though these speakers and systems are technically superior they come off so-so on my personal style quotient. So imagine his chagrin on my insistence that sophisticated urbanites, as far as home electronics are concerned, should only possess Bang & Olufsen as the supreme statement of one’s polished taste.
Removing verbal profanities our heated debate goes this way:
Nico maybe theoretically correct with his arguments but for a rabid fan that’s nothing short of blasphemy in my book. Bang & Olufsen is the iconic design maverick! Even Michael Grave’s Target phone or Philippe Starck’s Ola Phone are not close to the licentious seizures the BeoCom2 Phone provokes.
Approximating a hallucination of owning the Bugatti Veyron or a Lamborghini Diablo, I am aware that buying the BeoCom2 phone or the BeoSound series will fling me irrevocably into The Great Poverty Limbo. Then again what’s the point of living without obsessions? Obsessions defy logic. Wallpaper*, the purveyor of acquisitional culture, puts it succinctly: “I don’t know where it would go, I want it!”
In the same vein I am going to ignore reason. I just want my big Bang!
Pleasant Dispatch From A Parallel/Saner Universe:
Booboostrider merited my insanity with Blogger-Writer Of The Year citation!
As I mentioned in his comments page, I didn't expect to win this award! *wipestearandstiflesacry* Considering the brilliant, brilliant, ravenous competitors out there I feel so humbled! I thank the Academy, Booboostrider whose taste is beyond reproach, and of course, mom and dad for all those tuba lessons when I was five...
Thanks muchly for the vote of confidence!
Where do I claim my BeoCom2 phone prize?