I don't know what you guys saw but my first burn was in 2004, and although MORE PEOPLE SHOWED ON MONDAY 2012 THAN ATTENDED 2004, I didn't see any more or less tardism this year than any. The "Welcome Home" BMIR gave our dozen virgins on arrival in 2005 was a necessary rant about some fucktard who had thrown an actual rack of ribs in a toilet.
Half the people I drove by when I arrived on Sunday morning waved at me as I passed. Hundreds of people, all of them happy. When the giant Dune Worm entered the city Sunday at 6 p.m., all headlights and dust, we sat in our lawn chairs and waved at them as well. Even the ones who drove right through our camp.
What bugged me enough to so something about it this year was the ubiquitous stream of 800-rental RVs (esp. the one with those fucked up kids trapped in the paint job) driving straight up 9 o'clock, through the plaza and straight out toward the Man until somebody banged on their vehicles and made them stop. It's like they heard Uncle Bernie or their Camp Host would meet them at Burning Man so why not drive straight out to the Actual Man and drive around until they find the guy that knows what's going on? Why dont ya honk, there, Bubba? Maybe he'll hear you.
The solution was to pursue them in the Red Baron, blasting at them with machine gun sounds until they stop, whereupon a hottie wingwalker runs up to their window, hugs them and tells them where the hell to go. First you scare them, then you make them love you. (To this end, we also had Lord Humongous and a megaphone, blaring at them to give us your propane and your booze if you want to survive the wasteland. Your propane and your booze and your women, and we will let you live. Lord Humongous reads some awesome interracial cuckold erotica, by the way.)
At Slutgarden's Slut Court, a fratboy douche in his best Vegas mall-wear was arrested and put on trial for being a hot guy at Burning Man who couldn't get laid. IIRC, having been found guilty by a jury of sluts, his punishment was that he had to be chased around the Esplanade by a gay dude and/or pull his pants down, sit on the playa and suck dust up his butt. Then, they likely gave him a glass of ice cold slut juice. First you scare them...
Lots and lots of darktards and un-decorated rental RVs with white kids screaming to get out on the sides, but, did you happen to notice the reduction in camera-toting shirt-cockers this year? And if you didn't see as much playa art this year, well... where's yours?
Above all Exodus--the one thing everybody universally hates the most about Burning Man--absolutely failed to suck as expected. It Was Fucking Way Better This Year. It speaks for my entire Playa Apocalypse.
"The Red Baron is smart.. He never spends the whole night dancing and drinking root beer.. "-The WWI Flying Ace