...and back to Old Town Scottsdale...
...where art is dying a savage death...
Many of the galleries are empty and up for lease, and there’s no one around, rendering it a forlorn ghost town of sorts.
And no wonder, because you wander in the remaining galleries and get your sensibilities sullied by stale schlock.
The gallery owners, once pompous and snooty, are so delighted to see a real human-being-potential-collector, they smile and dance and probably fart from the excitement of it all.
...while Mark Twain contemplates the irony of this debacle from a sidewalk bench.
