Well, actually, Kojève. And, actually, not Disney World proper, but the Grand Floridian, which is some kind of Gilded Age themed spa of the sort that used to be a relaxing ground for the master class. I’m here without my children for work-related reasons, so I’m spending most of my free time walking around and wondering what the fuck is this place? It’s more more Baudrillard than Baudrillard.
It’s my first trip to Disney World, and if this is what it is, half of me thinks I’d rather take my children to watch cats being burned alive. But, then, the other half of me is in love with the pure stupid leveling of historical context. I keep waiting for anti-PoMo pundits to start picketing outside.
Anyway, a picture of the beach, from About.com.
My favorite part’s what you can’t see. Behind one of the palm trees is a sign that says “No Swimming.”
Like everything else here, it’s a fake of a fake.
I believe the whole point of the Disneyworlds is being a simulacrum. Either kids or adults love that: http://images.google.com/images?hl=en&source=hp&q=main+street+disneyland&gbv=2&aq=f&oq=&aqi=
http://images.google.com/images?start=0&q=indian+village+disneyland&btnG=Search+images&gbv=2&hl=en&sa=2
Yeah, absolutely. I mean that’s the quote: “Disneyland is there to conceal the fact that it is the ‘real’ country, all of ‘real’ America, which is Disneyland (just as prisons are there to conceal the fact that it is the social in its entirety, in its banal omnipresence, which is carceral).” My problem was that I guess I thought the simulacrum zones would end, or that there would be clearly delineated borders or something. (Stupid, I know.) I had no idea how total Disney is. I never actually set foot in a single park, but I was thoroughly inside the entire time.