Environmental catastrophe, war, and zombie apocalypse are my best guesses. I looked at the towering casinos and wondered how they’ll come down. The town seemed to be dominated by aggressive-looking Eminems with bad posture under oversized clothing who only left the house to walk their pit bull to the corner store to buy more booze. What should be a temple to tangible spirituality, awe, and gratitude is instead devoted to the counterfeit capitalist god of the dollar. That was my feeling in Niagara, at least the first half, as it struck me as a prime example of the overlapping and concurrence of the sacred and the profane. It’s a place utterly defined by a piece of stunning natural beauty, artwork of the gods, yet is framed by the flabby vultures of casinos, savory as piles of crusted pus.
