Your Poe's Law handheld disambiguator device should have read about 75% insincere on my ancestor post.
I am fully aware that a NIMBY neighborhood, such as the one near the sign, would actually tar-and-feather the first person who tried to treat the invading tourists as anything other than vermin to be eliminated.
I was simply making a modest proposal, to contrast against the actual efforts of the local homeowners to discourage tourist traffic.
For instance, a while ago, I agreed to go with my family to Grand Canyon national park. I had but one condition: under no circumstances would I be asked to buy anything at any gift shop filled with touristy crap, nor even be requested to enter one. And guess what happened. We still spent over three consecutive hours in a thrice-cursed gift shop, wherein I was asked repeatedly to buy junk of the lowest quality. That was more time than was spent looking at the actual canyon, for which there was no additional charge beyond the cost of park admission.
That kindled a great fight, which everybody lost.
More recently, we visited New Orleans. My sole condition of the pre-trip planning was "No French Quarter." And guess what happened. My matrifornicating in-laws wanted to eat dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. On deity-despised Bourbon Street.
So I find that the single most effective way to make me passionately hate your locale and avoid it like an Ebola-infected bat roost forevermore is to make it into a tourist trap.
I am fully aware that a NIMBY neighborhood, such as the one near the sign, would actually tar-and-feather the first person who tried to treat the invading tourists as anything other than vermin to be eliminated.
I was simply making a modest proposal, to contrast against the actual efforts of the local homeowners to discourage tourist traffic.
For instance, a while ago, I agreed to go with my family to Grand Canyon national park. I had but one condition: under no circumstances would I be asked to buy anything at any gift shop filled with touristy crap, nor even be requested to enter one. And guess what happened. We still spent over three consecutive hours in a thrice-cursed gift shop, wherein I was asked repeatedly to buy junk of the lowest quality. That was more time than was spent looking at the actual canyon, for which there was no additional charge beyond the cost of park admission.
That kindled a great fight, which everybody lost.
More recently, we visited New Orleans. My sole condition of the pre-trip planning was "No French Quarter." And guess what happened. My matrifornicating in-laws wanted to eat dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. On deity-despised Bourbon Street.
So I find that the single most effective way to make me passionately hate your locale and avoid it like an Ebola-infected bat roost forevermore is to make it into a tourist trap.