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The Stepford Wives

You may wonder why I describe my best friend's town, and his life as Stepford. In essence it's the town where everything is apparently perfect, but yet still there's somthing wrong.

Here's a description using the term, comparing it to car which aspires to be a thoroughbred, but cannot escape it's pedestrian roots.

   The Acura TSX is the Stepford wife of sport sedans. Like one of the complaisant clones in Ira Levin's sci-fi feminist novel (and the deliciously dated movie of 1975), the new TSX does everything one could ask of it and offers still more.
   If the 2004 TSX has a weakness, it is the same as Stepford's selfless automatons: an appliance-like vapidity, a soullessness, a gravity for which there is no center.
   Forgettable? It's hard to forget something that you never quite saw in the first place.
   Perhaps it's the TSX's design — lovely without being attractive — that reminds me of the Stepford wives. Maybe it's the uncomprehending voice-recognition system built into the navigation system. When asked to plot a route to the nearest hospital, the robotic feminine voice directed me to the North Carolina Central Prison; when I ordered the temperature down on the climate control, it tuned the radio instead.
   In any event, it is worth remembering the movie's ending. The Stepford husbands were quite content with their soulless and servile surrogates. If the TSX proves anything, it's that personality isn't everything.

 

What's missing in the suburban life, and what's missing in all our lives here.

We're a People without a place. We're a race of nomads. Committed to nowhere, living only by what they can carry.

I was inspired by a friend I worked with in Germany. Who when asked, told me this, that he'd been around for generations, since the Black Madonnna.

 

just like these poor souls