First, a note: the thumb above was taken on 6th St., the main drag of the musical-festival-that-shan't-be-named. People stop and look at almost anything on 6th St. If there was a line of people applying Carmex to their elbows it would garner a crowd.
Oh god, the Fader Fort. Essentially a gambit to see how much advertising can be surreptitiously and culturo-relevantly projected onto the obsequious and far-too-drunk-this-early youth of America. A partial (!) list of this year's sponsors: Fiat, TDK, Pepsi, Guitar Center, and Bushmills. People paint car doors there, like you would if you wanted to ruin your car.
And have you heard about the line to get into this place? It's long. Really really long. The picture below is roughly 3/5 of the slog:
I took this photo to illustrate using visual metaphor the feeling surrounding the Fader Fort:
And just down the street was this lovely banner, a siren call to the marginalized, reviled sect of people who like to pay to kill themselves:
And finally, a little piece of Weird Austin. I don't know where you acquire lawn ornaments as um, fucking creepy as these, but I never want to go to there.
The wonders! The wonders...