Shiny is youth. Shiny is fertility. Shiny is uncorrupted. Shiny smells like the interior of a new car. Shiny is sixty-five golf courses in Palm Springs in the middle of the worst drought in a century. I love shiny, because the moment you see something shiny, you know there’s going to be something rotten or scary nearby—like the Japanese notion of honnē and tatemai: the public face and the private face.