This is a green kitchen. Zuckerberg is colorblind so who knows what the hell color he thinks this is. “Facebook blue! My favorite!” he’ll say. “Shhh, nobody tell Zuck it’s not blue,” one of his right-hand men will tell everyone else.
I’m sitting on the couch, I’m looking at where that dopey old timey clock is, and I’m wondering why I’m not watching a TV. This is called “house poor.” You’re blowing all your money on a mortgage, so you can’t afford a TV set—let alone a monthly cable bill. “Oh I’ll just cruise Facebook all day,” thinks Zuck. Good luck. It gets old after a while. Just saying.
Now this just seems like clutter for clutter’s sake.
“Wow, Zuck, I’d have thought you’d have a king size bed,” someone will say. “Well, they couldn’t fit it through the pagoda/phone booth/vine holder thing on the walkway. I don’t actually know what it is but our decorator has a real boner about it for some reason,” is what Zuck will say.
And last but not least, here’s the porch where Zuck and his lady-friend Priscilla Chan will grow old together. In about fifty years, Zuck will say, “I’ve always hated this wicker couch.” Priscilla will say, “No, you haven’t. You told me you liked it.” Zuck will say, “Well, I don’t.” And Priscilla will wonder what else she doesn’t know about Zuck. All these years and he’s still an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in a hooded sweatshirt.
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