A small gallery of Hearst Castle, which is, uh, well, um. I’ve been trying to describe it to people since I got back to Asheville and the unanimous verdict is that William Randolph Hearst was the Trump of his day. Take priceless 16th century mahogany and paint it gold? Check. Put pink satin sheets on a cardinal’s 17th century Italian bed? Check. Turn a 3200 BCE Egyptian limestone god into a fountain and leave it outdoors? Check. The tastelessness, the vulgarity, the glitz – it just goes on. Except, unlike Trump, it’s all safely in the past and thus I can sort of think, wow, when you raise tackiness to this level it really does become almost wonderful. It’s just so insanely over the top. The swimming pool – my GAWD the swimming pool. But I am also honestly in love with the tennis court. So here are a few images. I do not have as many as I wish I did – I think the camera, like me, was just overwhelmed.