Who Killed Art Deco? by Chuck Barris

Who Killed Art Deco? by Chuck Barris

Author:Chuck Barris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-07-15T00:00:00+00:00


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My sister and I were born and raised in Philadelphia.

My sister went to the University of Pennsylvania, and Temple University for her master’s and doctorate degrees in art history. Then my sister became a teacher.

She saved her money and bought a small row house in a really scuzzy part of the city, down by the Schuylkill River. At the time my sister lived near the Schuylkill River it was the most polluted body of water in America. If you fell into the Schuylkill, all of your open cuts would immediately fester. Philadelphia colleges and universities recruited the dumbest students for their rowing teams. Only dummies would row on the Schuylkill River. One stupid sculler from the University of Pennsylvania’s rowing team almost died from hepatitis contracted when he fell into the Schuylkill River. The Schuylkill seemed to be one big tainted clam.

Ten minutes after my sister bought her row house by the Schuylkill, the city began to clean up the river. Now the river’s spotless. The water’s as healthy as the spas in Baden-Baden. Maybe healthier. Rowers don’t have to be simple-minded stupes anymore. Now they can be smart. They can fearlessly dip their oars into the Schuylkill River without worrying about catching any infectious diseases.

And then the Philadelphia Planning Commission decided to make the part of the city where my sister’s row house was a metropolitan showcase. They gentrified that entire section of the city, and changed the neighborhood’s name to Society Hill. When my sister had to sell her brownstone because of the offer she received of a full professorship at Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green, she made a fortune.

One should never tell a lady’s age. So I’ll just tell you mine. I’m forty-three, seven years younger than my sister. My sister never married. Why she never married is a short, tragic story. It goes like this. The man she was desperately in love with and engaged to drowned in a riptide in Atlantic City, New Jersey, two days before the wedding. My wife died two months and two days after we were married in an automobile accident. I loved her very much.

My sister and I never discuss matrimony, ever.

My sister’s a pleasant-looking woman. As a matter of fact, everything about her is pleasant. She has a pleasantly round figure, a pleasantly round face, and a pleasant nature. She wears her hair short, with bangs. She dresses in capri pants, short jackets, and wears lots of colors, pink being one of her favorites. My sister is extremely intelligent. She’s inclined to overlook the faults of others. She has a ton of energy but she’s very calm. She’s always neat as a pin and keeps a tidy house. She’s known to curse if the spirit moves her, and she’s not afraid to speak her mind when she wants to. She also has a gentle disposition, a great smile, is immensely loyal, and is adored by her students, her friends, her family, everyone.

As for me, on a good day I’m sometimes considered cute.



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