Wednesday, October 17, 2007

It's not the size of the peg leg...


Sometimes you've just got to get away from the rat race. Sometimes you're sitting in your luxury Upper East Side penthouse, and you think, "If I have to stare at these four walls any longer, I'm going to go insane." Ditto your house in Malibu, lodge in Aspen, ranch in Texas and villa in Italy. Normally, that's when you'd take to your private jet for a little R&R at 12,000 feet, but it seems that lately the sky is just overrun with airplanes. Every Tom, Dick and Harry seems to have his own personal Learjet, so where's a fella to go for some peace and quiet?

The answer: to the bottom of the ocean! These subaqueous minivans boast a degree of luxury incomprehensible to us mere surface dwellers. With your new private submarine, you can engage in all manner of leisure activities: look at pretty fishies, defeat communists, or even go treasure hunting. Although, if you really want to find some treasure, I suggest you go to the submarine store. They have eighty million of your dollars!

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