Ok, while the family may need a smack for being smug, and New Yorkers will likely stone them for parking their car that way, (not to mention taking five years to finish the place), the fish in floor thing is cool. (Thanks to Ron for the link.)
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"The stars are in the actual constellations that you will see over the Yangtze River," says Pamela Harvey-Rath.
That says one thing to me: City-dwelling neo-ecos who think they're so fucking hip.
Dinner party at the Harvey-Rath home:
"I'm going to tun off the lights now. You'll notice if you look up how we arranged fibre-optic lights in the domed ceiling to resemble the actual constellations..."
"YES! WE KNOW! The Yangtze fucking River, Pam. Cool. More wine, please."
Nah Jetpacks. Not even that.
Just Trustfundicus Classicus. Because unless Mr. R. is an investment banker (and the accompanying article indicates he's an "architect") that house is being paid for out of great-grandpa's millions.
And only someone who hadn't actually earned the money would be foolish enough to spend it on something that no one else in their right mind would ever buy. Except maybe as a tear-down
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