There's another reason, surely, for the cult of bad art, and it has to do with liberation: the anarchic pleasure of disorder, the repudiation of established rules of judgment. Bad art is an invitation to escape the formal boundaries of adulthood and be a child, delighting in the rude and raw.

For anyone at all familiar with rich people, the idea that to be rich is to be sophisticated is almost laughable.

"You try to accommodate, and then people start to abuse the privilege," Ms. Fasano said.

"Las Vegas is about creating experiences that people cannot have at home. You see the girl next door here and know that she would not go topless at home."

"That's real progress," Mr. Baird said, though he confessed he did not tell his wife about the region's nickname, the triangle of death.

You hear it and you say: "That's the core. People aren't supposed to be that honest."

Good people should be concerned about this.

"Pull a prank involving 100 lawn gnomes" is a goal shared by 65 members.

"Some guys collect coins. If I wasn't doing this, I wouldn't know what to do with myself in the summer."

More than any sequel before it, "Aliens" demonstrated that a good idea -- and a female action hero in minimal underwear -- had legs.

"It's easy to live in the past," she said. "Where do we go from here -- that's what worries me."