Pop's Place

What happened? Am I still a shooter, or just getting old?

2011-12-31T02:48:00.000-08:00

There’s a danger in reminiscing- in the last few days, and I don’t know why, I’ve been thinking way too much on the mid 1980’s…a time when I was shooting for fun, and a little profit, but a time when I was truly thinking as a photographer…not worrying about how to pay the bills, or what I would become, but what I was… I, at least I thought I was, a PHOTOGRAPHER…

The best thing in the world a fella could be.

In that time, I was around some very creative people. Bob Garcia, I still don’t know why were aren’t both either dead or in prison, who taught me about living on the edge.

Robert Herrman, who pushed me off the edge.

Ron Pitts, Gary Putman, Mark Silberman, and David Leason, who all kept me from falling off the edge.

And Lloyd Francis Jr, Howard Ford, and Jeff Warrin, all who let me believe, whether it was an allusion or not, it didn’t matter, that I was an artist, a photographer, a shooter. When other people took pictures, we shot photos. When other people developed film, we souped it.

We shot to capture a moment.

Focus and exposure took a back seat to emotion and composition.

It didn’t pay well, but it sure was fun.

I have been spending too much time in the past few days looking these folks up, googling like crazy, wearing out facebook, not because I have a deep seated need to connect with these people, although that would be welcome, but a deep seated necessity to remember WHY I have a camera, why I have one in the first place, why I think it’s better to shoot with an F2AS or an old C330 instead of a mark II 1d.

Why I wish my fingernails were still stained with Dektol and D76 instead of reaching for a compact flash card.

Just when it seems as though I’m about to get profound, I realize that the only thing it’s about to get is late and I should be in bed.

Oh well, I still like to shoot.

I just have to remember how to make it fun.

Cary Grant- lost and found

2010-12-25T18:17:00.000-08:00

Over the years I’ve gotten to meet many famous people in the course of my work, some memorable, some not so much. But one in particular really stands out and came back to mind this afternoon as I was cleaning out my garage.

But back in the mid 80’s I was working at a community college in CA and Cary Grant came to perform his A Conversation with Cary Grant series, where they would show some movie clips, then he would give a nice talk about his life in film.

He was one of my favorite actors, and I really wanted to shoot the show. I contacted his promo people, who politely informed me that no, Mr. Grant would not allow cameras at the show. I explained that I was a member of the student media and wanted to publish only in our weekly newspaper, but was told that Mr. Grant did not wish to be photographed.

After several more attempts and pleadings, I was politely told that Mr. Grant did not want the public to concentrate on his appearance as an 80 year old man, but as the dashing actor that would be celebrated in the film clips shown at the lecture.

One final plea was made by way of a phone call to his manager’s room at a local hotel. I explained that I worked for a small community college newspaper that no one read anyway, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the photos getting too much distribution.
After a slight pause, he asked me to wait, and a moment later a very recognizable voice came across the line. “You’re sure this is just for the school paper?” Yes Mr. Grant, it is. “Well, alright then, but get there early, and we’ll see what we can do.”

I showed up a couple of hours before the doors opened, during the sound and video check for the show and sat on the isle seat a few rows from the stage that contained a mike stand and a couple of chairs.

The large screen above the stage was showing a series of clips from many of Grants films, and that same, distinct voice that I heard by phone only hours before was booming larger than life through the sound system of the performance hall. As I watched and listened to the clips, seeing the images so huge compared to the TV Cary Grant I was used to seeing, I sort of lost track of time. That is until I heard his voice addressing me directly- see, I hadn’t noticed that while I was watching the 25 foot Cary Grant on screen, the six foot or so Grant had walked on stage, taken a seat, and was waiting for me to take his picture.

“Are we ready?” he was asking. I was a little surprised and confused that the guy on screen was sitting in front of me, talking to me, but that was why I was there wasn’t it? Of course sir, give me just a minute, I said as I fumbled for my camera and approached the stage. I fired off two or three shots, and as I adjusted my gear to change lenses and add a flash, he stood up, walked to the edge of the stage, extended his hand down to me, smiled and said “well, I hope you got as good one” and disappeared into the wings.

I stood for a moment with my jaw hanging open, amazed that I just “met” Cary Grant, and hoped I had film in my camera.

We ran a small photo with the press release story of the night, and sure enough, nobody read it.

A little over a year later, Cary Grant died. I wasn’t surprised that all the images that accompanied his obits were fairly old, and even the recent ones were several years old.

Years later, I did an online image search and couldn’t find any that were shot within the last year or so of his life. I realized I may be one of the last people to take the man’s picture.

As the years past, I couldn’t find any prints of that shot and the negs were long gone. Now that all my images are stored digitally, I have often thought of that simple image and wished I had it to preserve on disk.

Today we were clearing out the garage and my wife found an old coffee table photo book of the Maltese Falcon that I forgot I had.

As she was thumbing through it, between two pages she found an old 5x7 print.

Of Cary Grant.

It is now scanned and preserved on my computer.

And it just might be one of the last pictures taken of Cary Grant.

new roomie-

2010-07-23T17:36:00.000-07:00

Its been nearly a year since we added a new room mate to our home- all he does is eat, cry, and sleep. A lot like several roomies I had in the 80's. Over the past months I have many notes, observations, pix,.... hope to make time to post regularly soon.

Hope

2009-07-08T22:02:00.000-07:00

I haven’t posted at all recently, and really want to start again.

Over the past many months I am dealing with the change in mind set that comes from finding out I will soon be a pappa-

I hope to be a good one, I hope to be there for my baby, I hope that he will not grow to hate me, I hope that we can all grow as a family, I hope that he will be proud of me, I hope that….

I hope- I hope that we will all survive through this crazy mixed up horrible world that we have to muddle through each and every day and I hope that when he is 43 he looks back and has happy memories of his pop like I do of mine.

I hope he looks back and laughs and smiles and cries and loves and ……I hope he hopes.

Baby?...WHAT!!

2009-05-30T17:01:00.000-07:00

It’s been a busy 2 years.

After 14 years of marriage, Mrs Pop’s and I have had a bit of a surprise.

In January we found out she was pregnant.

I’m way too young to be a parent…wait…I’m WAY TO OLD TO BE A DAD! I have friends younger than me that have grown kids of their own- some are grandparents already.

I will be sixty when my son (yes, it’s a boy) graduates high school

Where have I been?

2007-07-17T07:42:00.000-07:00

It's been nearly a year since my last post- too much work, too little time.

Quick update- work for the state- still there
work for the paper part time- still there

Now, with all the free time I have on my hands, I have developed a new adventure- take over building this weekend, will have the wife running things, I'll be shooting nights and weekends-

After nearly a year hiatus from bloggertown, don't know if anyone actually checks this thing anymore-

New location: msantosphotographer.com

Road Trip

2006-08-13T11:21:00.000-07:00

Just a couple of shots from the road. I made a trip to CA for a wedding last week and took the round about route to get there.

Killing time and bugs.

Took a few pictures on the way. I’m still sorting them out, but really liked these 2-

Big n High

2006-07-09T13:12:00.000-07:00

For many years I lived at sea level- which is odd, because I never, ever went to the sea.

I went to the beach- lots of times.

I went to the ocean too.

I even ate sea food, but it came from the store or a restaurant, not the sea.

But I never went to the sea.

Before I sound too much like Andy Rooney, let me get to the point.

When I moved to Paulden, AZ elevation 4,413 feet, I could feel the change. This high up, nearly a mile, the air is thinner. Until you get used to it, you lose your breath faster, you get tired quicker, and the air is cleaner.

In addition to that, you drive up a little grade to get to my place, and then I have a little porch, and I’m a shade over six one, so my personal elevation is around 4,450.

That’s why I spent all day today on the couch.

It’s just too high out here to do much more than rest.

Thin air and all.

Another phenom that I notice living this high up is that the clouds are bigger.

Well, I don’t know if they’re actually bigger here, but they seem bigger.

Maybe it’s a matter of perspective.

Like when my dad used to use his old Polaroid out and have one of us kids hold our hand out, palm up, and then take the picture to look like we were holding a car or something in our hand? Maybe the clouds just look bigger because I’m a mile closer to them now.

All this thinking made me tired.

Think I’ll go lay down for a while- catch my breath.

Okla. team gives away biblical bobbleheads

2006-07-08T11:54:00.000-07:00

Just thought this was funny-
check out the link re: Tom Waits song that this reminds me of...

ULSA, Okla. - He delivered his people from bondage and through 40 years in the wilderness. Now Moses has become a key part of a five-game baseball homestand.

The Tulsa Drillers handed out 1,500 Moses bobbleheads on Friday night. The bobblehead, complete with tablets representing the Ten Commandments, was part of a faith and family night sponsored by Oklahoma Wesleyan University and a Christian radio station.

"We'll probably draw two kinds of people for the game: the Moses fans and the bobblehead collectors," said Brian Carroll, spokesman for the Double-A ballclub. The biblical bobblehead is a first for the Drillers, Carroll said.

Our tax dollars at work...and play.

2006-07-08T11:17:00.000-07:00

Let the training begin- I will be sent to Phoenix for the next 2.5 weeks to learn how to help people wait in line.

I will be staying at a very nice hotel with- get this- a free happy hour- no $ for drinks or food...

I expect Jack Daniels stock to rise considerably early next week...

I expect Buffalo Wings to be our leading commodity...

I expect to be sent home after day 1...

Update and clarification for Bill

2006-07-04T05:24:00.000-07:00

Update on my new profession- and I use that term loosely- I have had one day working at the Arizona Department of Transportation Motor Vehicle Division- ADOTMVD as it is known hear in the wild west.

I spent the day taking pictures- hey, I could have stayed at my old job and done that.

While I hate going to the , what I used to call from my California life the DMV, I think I will actually like to go to work each day.

In CA I paid about 50 dollars a year to join AAA (no, not AA I think that’s free) for the sole purpose of avoiding the DMV- in CA I could do all my car registration work at AAA and avoid going into the DMV offices- now I get paid to say “Sorry, wrong form” and “your in the wrong line” and “I know you didn’t need a shave when you got here”.

Further update- the comment from Bill on my last post scared me a little- and my neighbors too if they knew how to read- what I do is write for a paper, not stalk children.

Although the only difference is that I have a little card around my neck that says “Press” and I don't pass out candy.

Monday morning quaterback

2006-06-25T10:03:00.000-07:00

I held an interview recently with a young man, a very young man, who surprised me.

He was born sometime after I graduated high school so I didn’t really like him from the start.

He’s a good looking kid, strike 2.

He was a star athlete in high school and college- earning All- American rankings more times than I ever did my homework.

And then to top it off, he was really, really nice.

Now I was really beginning to hate him.

Many interviews I have with athletes are filled with the expected cliché comments that you would expect, like “gonna’ give it 110% percent”, “There's no ‘I’ in team” “God willin’ we’ll put a ‘W’ on the page”- and every other Bull Durham quote they can come up with.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, after all, the kids I interview are typically young- high school or college age. Between classes, part time jobs, and deciding who to take to the next dance (or whatever it is kids do these days) talking to a reporter for the local weekly probably doesn’t receive the advanced preparation that I would like to believe is necessary.

So last week, when I made arrangements to meet Travis Brennion at a local Mexican restaurant, I was expecting the typical responses to the typical questions- recalling the glory days of small town high school life and the challenges of college life away from home.

I was disappointed. And I have never been so happy to be disappointed in my life.

Mr. Brennion is a very likeable, very respectful young man that spoke with such admiration for his parents, such passion for his college, and such hope for his future that I walked away from the table with a deep respect for those that guided him and for a genuine interest for his future accomplishments.

I also walked away with salsa on my shirt.

I have much to learn about writing a story and capturing the true essence of a subject, and I hope that will come with experience. I know what was expected from the interview- a nice update on a local boy makes good thing. I think I captured that. But after reading what made it to print, the story was sorely lacking in the real story- what made this kid so special. The motivation from his dad, who suffers more health issues than any one person should need to bare, the guidance from coaches and mentors on the team that will continue throughout his professional life, the desire he has to continue in his sport helping kids develop the passion he has.

Now my job is to learn how, and remember to capture these things in future assignments.

After I file, I remember all the stuff I should have written down.

I think the secret is “enchiladas with every interview”.

Photo site part too

2006-06-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Here's another site that shouldn't be missed by anyone...

Uh Oh- time to grow up

2006-06-14T19:09:00.000-07:00

Dear John Q. Public,

Contrary to popular opinion, I have only had 3 careers in my 40 years on this clump of clay. I spent 17 years behind a camera, 8 years as what my resume’ calls a “Security Consultant” (basically peeping in windows and key holes), and now, the past year and a half, managing the Mega-Lo-Mart photo lab.

In between I have had some, shall we say, experiences to keep my free time less free. I tended bar, taught kids, I drove rich people, picked up trash on the highway… oh, wait, that wasn’t so much a job as an “assignment”.

I have continued to shoot pix as a hobby and for $$, but now, as I hit the big Four Oh, Mrs. Pop’s (who I affectionately refer to as Popina) feels I need some stability in my fault-line life.

I am now pleased to announce I have a real job. I, as of July 3, 2006 will be an employee of the state.

The state of Arizona to be exact.

And not like before when I did some temporary work for the state of California.

No orange jump suit this time. I’ll actually be getting a check instead of filter-less smokes and pruno.

I don’t know how it will be ‘workin’ fo the man’ as they say, but I will keep you posted.

Sincerely,
Your tax dollars at work,
Pop’s

Photo site that shouldn't be missed

2006-06-04T12:19:00.000-07:00

Here are 2 sites that are absolutely fantastic-

Neon and Krystyk have great eyes for subject and composition- I have no idea who they are, but they both have excellent shots worth checking out-

Also, the new link above to photographica.org is really nice.

enjoy...

New venture

2006-06-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

I have a new/second/third job that has taken up most of my so called creative talents (hey, I'll call 'em what I want). I am now working for the The Gammy Bird, a local paper where I report on the ships coming into th..... no, wait, that was Kevin Spacey....and we don't have any water here.

I know- I'm now working for The Chino Valley Review, a local paper where I report on the lack of ships coming into our lack of harbor.

I'm a spor..I'm THE sports reporter, photographer. It's probably the most enjoyable job I have ever had because not much is expected of me.

I sent the editor a disk with some of my old pictures on it and she really liked it. The problem is is that she doesn't have a budget for a photographer, so she asked me if i could cover sports for her, all high school and city league stuff. I was scared at first, telling her I have no trouble writing things that are unimportant, but to get things like facts correct is just not my style.

She took a chance and for the past few months I'm playing Scoop Brady.

Here's Wade PArker, freshmen phenom in the state championship- they lost, but he's gonna be one heck of a player...

Where to start....

2006-06-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

Man- I haven't had even a minute of spare time in the last few months- work has been really hectic, and I have a new venture I will explain shortly- but the major item is the loss of Chuckie- Charlie, my pal for the past 12 years is gone- it was not a decision taken lightly, he was too far gone and gave up on himself. Much pain.

The Case of the Missing Lake....

2006-01-29T09:04:00.000-08:00

A little while back I wondered about the origins of Lakeside Drive in Paulden- a desert town with no wawa- I think I've solved the mystery.

It's just been low tide.

digger

2006-01-29T08:54:00.000-08:00

This is digger- he's got a pet named Craig.

From what I hear, don't feed him Slim-Jim's.

Goes for both of 'em I think.

update and excuses

2006-01-29T08:25:00.000-08:00

I’ve been away for a while- I’ll try and post some stuff in the next week. Quick update- I’ve been trying to finish up my novel and a collection of short stories. I know I missed the novel month deadline, but I was mainly trying to finish without worrying too much about the time frame.

I’ve also been shooting more- for fun and profit. Working on some local band promo shots and family portraits to help pay the bills.

While I was digging through my gear I stumbled across some old negs and pictures- some interesting stuff.

I’ll post when I get them sorted out, but here’s a few.

More notes...

2005-11-05T22:28:00.000-08:00

In re-reading my book ideas I ran across some notes that I can actually read.

One is from about eight years ago, to me it still sounds interesting. I may pick it up and work on it a little later. If anyone likes it please steal it and list me in the acknowledgments if it turns into a book.

Whenever I go to the library I mostly wander around and grab whatever catches my eye. Sometimes I find after several pages that the book seems a little familiar and later I realize that I’ve already read it.

In Hayward I was on friendly terms with one of the librarians and she showed me a little trick- after you read a book, on the inside back or front covers some readers put a little mark- initials or symbol that they will recognize that tells the reader ‘I’ve already read this one’. Never big enough to vandalize the book, just a small scribble. I thought this was a great idea and began the practice.

Over time, I noticed that many of the same books I read and enjoyed were also read by various other folks whose initials or symbols I began to recognize. I found myself looking in books and if I saw an initial I recognized, I would sort of use that as a book review. If they liked it, maybe I would too.

So here’s the plot. Granted it’s rough but I think it has potential- small town guy, avid reader, loves a good murder mystery. A series of murders (3, 4- ?) in his and surrounding towns begins to sound familiar and it occurs to him that the murders seem to be mimicking murders he’s read about in novels.

He goes to the library and starts at the A’s in the mystery section and finds a book he’s read. Very similar to the first crime. The B’s- another novel, mimics crime #2- this goes on through the first few letters of the alphabet and he notices the initials on the books include his and a few others on all the covers. The police have also followed this line of thought.

The letters in the alphabet may or may not work- instead maybe the books are a series from the same author being copied by the killer- I haven’t worked that out yet. So far this was just a few pieces of scratch paper I found in an old notebook.

But the idea of the main character being a suspect, and the only clues being these anonymous symbols, and him trying to find the killer before the cops- or possibly him bringing this idea to the cops- How about if it is a series of books being copied and he knows who the next victim is or how the next victim will be killed? The police thinking maybe he’s the killer, needing to telegraph his crime?

Tracking the check out records for the books would be too easy, and the killer could always read the books in the library instead of checking them out- many more details to figure out- maybe that’s why it’s still scratch paper.

Anyway, the thought of me and several other readers all enjoying the same books, the same authors- sort of like a book club where you never meet the other members struck me as an interesting concept.

I am They

2005-11-05T15:44:00.000-08:00

I’ve been trying to get a hold of my old buddy Bob with no success- He’s a guy that I’ve known for over 30 years- we had the same 2nd grade teacher and became fast and longtime friends, but in recent years we’ve only seen each other a handful of times, traded voice and e-mails mostly.

But there was a time when we were insep- unsep- we were always together. We worked together, went into businesses together (both legal and otherwise) and generally got into a lot of trouble together.

I was telling a guy about the adventures of Bob and Pops recently and I remembered a night in Hayward, CA at a local watering hole, Casa Carlitas- a Mexican restaurant and bar we went in every once in a while- we were there so much they engraved our names on stools.

This was also a local haunt of a few reporters we knew from our local newspaper, one of which was the SF 49’s beat reporter. I think this was the 86 season- for a few years Bob and I would manage to get field passes to shoot local teams- niners, A’s, Warriors and we got to know the reporters pretty well.

The niners reporter was sitting with Bob and me at Carlitas and we were all getting pretty trashed- he was commenting on the fact that Joe Montana, the niners star quarterback-who had been knocked out of action in the first game or two of the season, went through back surgery, was told by doctors that his career could be over, and was now back on the field after only 2 months of rest.

Bob laughed and said “yeah, back surgery”.
”What’s that mean?” asked the reporter.

I picked up the ball and ran with it “he didn’t have surgery- didn’t you hear?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Man, he was in rehab- Joe’s got the same problem his cuz Tony has- you know, from Scarface? Joe’s a big time coke head- everyone knows that”.

I know- stupid move- complete lie- we were bad guys and worse drunks. But at the time we thought it was funny- we were just shooting the bull over a few dozen drinks.

Now, ordinarily this would have been laughed away and conversation would have switched over to the little waitress at the other end of the bar- but like I said, Bob and I had, well, been in “business” together and that’s all I’m really going to say about that. So this reporter figured we had an inside track.

Anyway, a few days later, I’m reading the local paper and I run across a story on the niners and there’s a quote in there, I don’t remember exactly how it went but it was something like “reports of substance abuse by Montana were categorically denied by the organization”.

Thinking about this instance got me wondering- some lame reporter believed, or at least thought about, what two idiot drunks said in a bar and attempted to base a story on it- even went as far as asking the team spokes person about something I said in an alcohol hazed moment.

You hear stuff all the time- “They say…” whatever- in this case “they say Montana’s got a dope problem”. Totally false. What about all the other stuff THEY say?

THEY say don’t go swimming after you eat. Why?

THEY say coffee’s bad for you.

THEY say coffee’s good for you.

THEY say wine is bad for you unless it’s on a day when THEY say it’s good for you.

Well, I was once upon a time THEY so here’s a whole new list that THEY- and when I say THEY I mean ME- have for your consideration:

Red meat is good for you- and red meat will include any meat covered in ketchup or barbecue sauce.

Anyone who spells ketchup catsup is to be ridiculed.

One strawberry margarita is now considered a serving of fruit.

Beer or “grain” alcohol will now be listed on the food pyramid next to bread.

14 hours of sleep will now be the recommended daily allowance.

Charts that determine an individual’s ideal weight will no longer be determined by height- it will now be by shoe size. I wear a 13.

Ugly Hawaiian print shirts with mustard stains on the front are now considered “chic”.

That odd smell coming from under the back seat of my truck is now considered an aphrodisiac.

Lounging on the couch watching the all day Law and Order marathon is considered preparing for a career in law enforcement.

Well, that’s what they say anyway.

A Novel Idea

2005-11-05T13:58:00.000-08:00

I did it- I started a book. I’ve attempted this before, but kept losing my crayons.

Just kidding, couldn’t pass that up.

Seriously though,November is National Write a Novel Month. This is a program developed by a guy in Oakland, CA- near my old stomping grounds.

The purpose is to get people writing- about anything. To put what’s in your head down on paper.

I think this is a great idea. I feel that most everybody has a story in them. It could be a biography, humor, romance, or horror story.

The problem isn’t if the story’s there, but how to get it out of your head and onto the page.

That’s where the big problem is for most, and why I feel that this National Write a Novel Month is such a good idea.

Even if no one ever reads what you write, the process of developing an idea, character, or event into a story, transforming that story into a coherent piece and taking the time to put it to paper is a great exercise.

I started to write this blog thing as an exercise to help me be a better communicator- My friend Steve (Lunatic Fringe Report) and I would talk for hours about story ideas, books we’ve read, movies we’ve seen and would often say “we could have done better” or “if I wrote that I would have..” and many times our ideas were actually better.

I know what your thinking- everyone thinks they have a good sense of humor, everyone thinks that they can dance, their dog is the cutest, their children are the smartest, and everyone thinks they can write a novel.

Well, I know I can’t dance and I have no kids, but Chuck is the cutest dog ever and how will I ever know if I can write unless I try?

Two years ago if somebody told me that people would log onto my blog and actually read what I wrote, I would have laughed in their face.

But I have gotten comments and e-mails from people I’ve never met, who live all over the world, who actually read what I type- and I in turn, have read some really interesting stories, thoughts, and some hilarious rants from people in various parts of this and other counties-I’ve seen some amazing photography and heard some great music from people like me who are expressing themselves and stretching their creative wings.

So I started it. Will I finish it in a month? Probably not. Will it be any good? Who knows- but I won’t know unless I try.

Like I said, I’ve tried this before. I have several collections of short stories, a partial screen play, and a couple of would be novels on my hard drive.

I have tried several different approaches to writing.

The first consisted of getting the creative juices flowing- this was done by having many other juices, primarily bourbon, flowing first.

I’m pretty confident that if I were to find, then decipher my lost collection of bar napkins, I could give Hemingway a run for his money. I have no idea what they were, but remember some very profound words written on coasters as well.

Many long and fuzzy nights later, I realized that ideas came to me even when not accompanied by ice cubes, so I decided to carry a little tape recorder with me every where I went. That way, when these little pearls of creativity popped into my head, usually while stuck in traffic, I could simply turn on the recorder and let the words flow.

Unfortunately I would sometimes forget to turn it off- one tape I remember started out “it was 9 am when I walked into the bar, my eyes slowly adjusting to the smoke and darkness inside. There she was- alone in a corner booth, nursing what I’d bet wasn’t her first of the day. I approached her slowly and…..hey this is a cool song” followed by what I must admit was a terrific rendition of Livin’ La Vita Loca.

I do a mean Ricky Martin.

I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with a great idea or a phrase running through my head that I know would lead to a good story. But in the morning I had no memory of what it was- so I put a notebook on my night stand so I could write these ideas down, and type them up later. Sounds like a good idea right?

Well, here’s one of my notebook pages.

It was maybe an idea for a mystery involving an antique dealer who is murdered for what he finds in an old desk, and some how Soupy Sales and Groucho Marx were involved.

Or someone was killed over, or by, an old dish.

Or maybe someone was killed by soup made out of handle bars.

Whatever it was it was great- that much is clear by the 2 exclamation marks.

This time I’m trying a new approach. I will actually make time to sit at the computer and write.

I will attempt to write for at least 1 to 2 hours a day.

If it seems to be shaping up OK, I’ll think about posting a work in progress here. I’m still a little gun shy over that idea, we’ll see.

Regardless of how it turns out or what kind if any feedback I get, I know it will be a good exercise for me.

After reading some other blogs lately, I know there are some folks out there who should give this idea a shot.

So if your reading this and you have a story in you, get writing.

It’ll be good for you.

Whoa little doggie

2005-10-30T17:13:00.000-08:00

I’ve lived in a few places in my life- big cities, small towns, medium-sized places.

Everywhere I’ve been, the local community has always attempted to take care of it’s own- especially the children.

Municipalities don’t always succeed, but they always seem to have the interests and safety of the citizens in mind.

That’s why this sign worries me so much.

Most places want you to slow to 25 or even 15 mph in a crossing area- heck, I would even take 35- but this seems just wrong.

But then again, Paulden is reported to have a serious meth problem so maybe the kids here just move a whole lot faster than most places.

Stay tuned

2005-10-28T01:18:00.000-07:00

OK- I've been slacking off recently, but I have a good reason- I know this will be a somewhat of a ramble- but it will be worth it- trust me-

I know a guy named Craig- he’s a good guy, pays his rent, doesn’t beat up on people, buys a drink now and then- all round good guy.

He sat with me at Lucy’s recently and told me his story. If you’ve read my previous posts you know I like a good story and I’m a sucker for a free drink.

Anyway, he sometimes reads my posts, and said the other day “what’s up- you haven’t written anything lately”

He checks Pop’s Place almost every day and I felt like I was letting him down- it’s not like I got a whole bunch of folks reading this stuff- I should take care of those few who actually know who I am.

I sat listening to Craig, telling me about his days in Vegas.

He has a fascinating story.

Spent time as a chef, a crook, a con- His story is a book all by itself.

I’ve been trying to formulate our conversation into a tale- a novel I guess, or at least a short story.

I sat listening, scribbling, writing in my notebook and ‘bout wet my pants laughing over his escapades- he had me rolling- some I can tell, other stories I can’t- at least until the statute of limitations runs out.

I will continue working on it and share pieces as he OK’s the release of the details.

I won’t attempt to spell it out in short form here- I can’t do it justice at this time- but I promise that as I work out the notes, I will post and you will be entertained-

As a sneak preview, I will tell you this- It starts in a casino, moves on to a gay bar, rolls into a cop car, ends up with a Mike Tyson wanna-be saying “you betta call yo mamma!”

What more could you wan’t?

So until further notice, the adventures of Craig are in the works-

Stay tuned….

just one more...

2005-10-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

This is a neighbor kid from about 12 years ago- Guillermo I think was his name- I'll never forget his dad's name though, but only because I could never remember it.

He comes over one day and I draw a blank so I call him guy- you know as in "what's up guy?" and "hey guy, want a beer?"- stuff like that. This goes on for 25-30 minutes before my roomie Bruce shows up and says "Hey guy, how you been?"

I follow Bruce in the house and laugh "Man I can never remember his name either"

Bruce: "What do you mean? His name's Guy"

Ooops.

more stuff from a shoe box...

2005-10-15T19:14:00.000-07:00

Just some pix I ran across-

Not sure which way the building pic goes- it could be a vertical for all I know- the other is my old roomate/best man at my wedding Bruce and a friend of ours Ruben- that's my old '74 Dart before it caught fire.

Bruce and some guys at the house- Bruce loved the guitar- played at my wedding- in the background are 2 friends-Chris and Dave- got a funny story about Dave I'll have to post some day.

Chad and Desie from way, way, back- Sorry to say Chad is no longer with us- died a couple of years ago @ 18 I think- Desie is the daughter of an old friend I haven't seen in years- she's probably 21, 22 by now- she once hit me with a pack of cheeze- no reason, just flung it accross the table at me and laughed- her dad laughed so hard he bout wet his pants.

Percy Cado

2005-10-13T21:28:00.000-07:00

I have never created anything- I have no children, I live in a house someone else built, even the dogs just showed up one day and started eating my food.

Everything I have, own, or use was made by someone else.

I tried to make a chair one time- actually it started out as a desk, then became a table, then started to look like a book case.

After a while I realized it would be none of those, so I turned it into a chair, which then became a foot stool. Then a three legged foot stool, but it wobbled so much I then turned it into firewood.

So, I guess, the only thing I ever made was firewood. It burned real good so I guess I do know how to make firewood.

But that’s not as satisfying as it sounds.

As all who know me agree, I should not make children, so I decided to make something as satisfying, yet not as difficult, time consuming, or needing as much dedication and responsibility.

I decided to make life- plant life that is.

I started by planting some raspberry bushes (and why razzberry is spelled with an “s” and a “p” I will never know). They, unfortunately, are no longer with us (reason # 75 why I should never have children).

I then tried my hand at a peach tree, or as he is now affectionately known “Scrawny Stick in the Front Yard”.

Then, while eating guacamole, I thought “why throw away the seed when I could kill another life form?”

So I placed an avocado seed in a Jack Daniels shot glass in my kitchen window and the miracle of life began.

Avocados are a fruit, not a vegetable- something all of us should know.

I call him Percy- and if you have ever tasted an avocado or listened to Percy Faith’s Theme for Young Lovers you won’t ask why.

Pure heaven- the both of them.

Over the past few weeks I have watched in wonder as Percy has gone from seed (garbage) to seed in a shot glass, to garbage in a shot glass covered with some kind of green slime with white spots, to seed with roots sticking out of its butt.

He then became too big for the shot glass, and was moved to a small planter near my dining room window.

I am so proud- he’s growing each day, becoming the avocado tree we all know he can be.

He will soon be old enough to leave home, go to the front yard and flourish in the sunshine and fresh air like all young seeds yearn to do.

I look forward to the time he moves out on his own so I can rip his offspring from his limbs, run them through a food processor and eat them with beer and tortilla chips.

If that doesn’t work I can always chop Percy down and use him for firewood.

Liar Liar, Pants on..um...Pants on Tape!

2005-10-10T21:32:00.000-07:00

Photos courtesy AP/CBS News

With all that has hit New Orleans in recent weeks, at least the Police Department can say “We tell the Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth!”

The PD has been accused of looting a Wal-Mart, breaking into a Cadillac Dealer and using the “borrowed” vehicles to patrol their city in time of need- their city evidently also included Huston and parts of Alabama, and now savagely beating a retired school teacher, the actions being caught on video tape.

According to AP- Robert Davis said he had returned to New Orleans to check on property his family owns in the storm-ravaged city, and was out looking to buy cigarettes when he was beaten and arrested Saturday night in the French Quarter.

Police have alleged that the 64-year-old Davis was publicly intoxicated, a charge he strongly denied as he stood on the street corner where the incident played out Saturday.

"I haven't had a drink in 25 years," Davis said. He had stitches beneath his left eye, a bandage on his left hand and complained of soreness in his back and aches in his left shoulder.

Davis said he had been walking in the French Quarter and approached a mounted police officer to ask about the curfew in the city when another officer interrupted.

"This other guy interfered and I said he shouldn't," Davis said. "I started to cross the street and — bam — I got it. ... All I know is this guy attacked me and said, `I will kick your ass,' and they proceeded to do it."

See- the police had a clear objective, and then they achieved it. Made a promise and kept it.

That's the kind of integrity we need in public service.

OK- last one for tonight- Archives IV

2005-10-09T20:45:00.000-07:00

Some bands that I've shot over the years....

Los Lobos....

The guy who played piano bar @ the resturant by the airport in Hayward....

These guys looked tough but knitted back stage to calm their nerves....

Angel from Mystic Rage

I forget who this was. tell him to turn around...

This is my Neighbor from Hayward- he put out a rap cd- but I guess you didn't think it was country...

This is Ron E. Lee and Bundy Brown of Ron E. Lee & the Blues Family out of Fremont, CA Great music, but Ron was a troubled soul- still owes me a few bucks.

From the Archives III

2005-10-09T20:29:00.000-07:00

And yet more- I really should clear out my old shoe boxes more frequently- then I wouldn't dump all this stuff at once- oh well...

Some shots from protests I covered in the late 80's in Berkeley and SF

I wonder if this Indian is the naked burglar from Cottonwood?

I remember thinking when I shot this- he looks sooo bored. He just comes to the protests to meet hippie chicks.

From the Archives II

2005-10-09T20:09:00.000-07:00

More stuff-

A house fire in Hayward, CA- not much left as I remember

Hayward cop, really nice guy named Bennie, killed in the line of duty by some wacked out druggie with a knife- some shots from his funeral

Photos from the archives

2005-10-09T19:39:00.000-07:00

Lots of different stuff- some news, some sports, some, well, stuff.

High school basketball- 90's

Here are some shots from the Cypress Structure, Oakland, CA 1989- The Loma Prieta Quake leveled the overpass- these are some of the rescue workers just hours after it hit.

Taking a break from looking for bodies

This guy was interesting to talk to. He was a bus driver who pulled up to the site just before the fire trucks arrived. His bus was empty so they were using it as a mobile morgue.

On a Lazy Afternoon...

2005-10-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

What a great day to relax- a hectic week is over and a new one won't start until tomorrow. Surfing the net, reading blogs and exploring my hard drive. I found some old pics - see what you think. I really miss the beach.

Taken with a sub-1 meg floppy disk camera- quality not great, but it was a great day on the coast.

Was it something I said?

2005-10-09T13:02:00.001-07:00

Is this some sort of trend? New fad? Remember back in the early 70's the streaker craze? The most famous being the 1974 Academy Awards ceremony with david Niven. It appears as though nakedety (the act of being naked- use it enough it will catch on) is back in style. See my post Wet pants and other problems -

I recently heard of another case of nakedety (see, it's almost a household word now) in Chino Valley, AZ from a server at a local establishment (she'll kill me for this picture, but Oh well).

Chris was working one night when a guy walks in and takes off all his clothes. Everything. He's standing there in his nakedety and orders a beer.

The nerve. Everyone knows that when your stark naked the only appropriate drink to order is tequilla.

So she booted him out. Well, her and the threat of La Migra.

I found the following on-line courtesy Associated Press:

No Shirt, No Shoes and No Pants Means Jail
Sat Oct 8, 8:36 PM ET , AP
No shirt, no shoes — and no pants — has landed a Utah man in legal trouble. Last month the 51-year-old Sunset man allegedly entered a local convenience store in the buff on multiple occasions. Clearfield Police say in August he also made a trip through a restaurant drive-thru, au naturel.
City prosecutors have charged the man in justice court with misdemeanor lewdness. But now the Davis County District Attorney's office is investigating allegations of witness tampering, which could result in third-degree felony charges.
Police say that over the past week, the man has telephoned the same convenience store, asking for permission to enter the business naked.
He was attempting to talk clerks out of testifying against him, said Greg Krusi, assistant police chief for Clearfield.
Clerks called police, who kept watch outside the store. They witnessed the man approach the business, strip down and walk inside, Krusi said.
Krusi said officers arrested the man and booked him into the Davis County jail for allegedly driving under the influence, lewdness and telephone harassment.

Police Find Naked Man Hanging From Ceiling
Sat Oct 8, 9:13 PM ET
Police responding to an alarm at a cash advance business found a naked man hanging from the ceiling early Thursday morning.
An officer answering the alarm noticed tiles, insulation, wires and metal braces hanging from the roof and on the floor of the Check 'n Go, Darlington Police Lt. Danny Watson said.
A naked man with scrapes all over his body then dropped from the ceiling and tried to open the front door and leave, according to a police report.
"He had a charming story to go along with it though. He said somebody threw his keys on the roof and that's why he was up there," Watson said. "He kind of got a little fuzzy on the 'taking all his clothes off and sliding in the store' part."
Police think 22-year-old Michael Gilbert took off his clothes so he could fit through an air vent on the roof, Watson said.
Gilbert has been charged with burglary. The cash advance business doesn't keep money on the premises, police said.

So, nakedety is on the rise. Naked burglars, naked customers, and naked guys who fetch keys on roofs.

Why is it that I have yet to see a story about naked fashion models who get lost in Paulden and need to stop and ask for directions?

Learning and Other Useless Activities

2005-10-09T11:19:00.000-07:00

I spent the other day doing what most people would consider “nothing”.

I on the other hand, felt that I put in a hard days work. I spent 12 hours without moving more that 10 feet or so, didn’t fall over once, and stayed awake most of the time.

I won’t get into the details, but I assure you it was not an easy task. It took great concentration and above average balance.

But part of me still thinks I could have been a little more productive, so in an attempt to better myself and grow intellectually I have decided that I will learn something new each day.

I decided that I will limit my search to the field of science. I know that’s a broad field, but I wanted to make sure the information I take in is worthwhile. I could easily have given myself no restrictions.

Memorizing football stats would fill the “learn something new each day” requirement. So would finding out how many beers a man could drink without using the restroom, or maybe how many episodes of Law and Order you could watch in a single calendar day. But I’m better than that.

I take my commitments seriously.

But if I had to guess, taking into consideration such factors as SVU, Criminal Intent, and Regular, not to mention NBC, USA, and TNT, I would have to say no less that 62. Yep- 62 episodes sounds right.

But I digress. On with the education.

When I was a kid my dad had a book that I inherited. It’s called The Way Things Work- An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Technology (copyright 1967, Simon & Schuster). In the forward the publisher explains that this volume is designed to “answer the question posed by the inquisitive child who wants to know how the vacuum cleaner or a refrigerator works.” The book is by no means a children’s book. It is designed like a text book with a page of text describing the item or process, then drawings and schematics detailing the item.

Also in the forward the publisher states that this book was originally published in Germany in 1961 under the title “Wie funktioniert das?”. I don’t speak German, but that sounds dirty.

Note to self- find German book store.

I digress again. Opening the book I think a random search, just seeing what catches my eye would be good.

On page 328 is the Juke Box. I like music- good place to start.

“Present day juke boxes almost invariably use 7-inch records played at 45 r.p.m. Magnetic tape recordings and other recording media have not "…hey wait a minute. 45’s?

I haven’t even seen a 45 in years. The book goes on to say how each juke box holds about 80 songs.. Heck, the one at Lucy’s has, like a million. Most ones I never heard of but a million of anything -even country music- is a lot.

I better find a new topic- page 440- Anaesthetic Apparatus- a machine used to put people to sleep before an operation. I found that reading these 4 paragraphs would do the trick.
No special machine needed.

I also learned that this book is so old that “Anaesthetic” isn’t spelled that way anymore- “Anaesthetic” is now “Anesthetic” or possibly “An aesthetic” or maybe even “Ana esthetic”.

Page 416- Intaglio Printing- read it 4 times, looked at the pictures twice- still don’t know what it does, is, or taste like.

Next.

Page 398- Detergents. Soap, how hard can that be? Oh, wait- the picture has a drawing of an oil well, a tub of paraffin, and shows sulphuric acid (which by the little red squiggly line on my screen I see is not spelled “sulphuric” any more). Now I’ve had some raunchy clothes in my day, but at no time did I ever need to use acid to clean them. Not when I can buy new ones anyway.

And what’s paraffin? It sounds like a flaky dessert. Something you might put Intaglio on.

Well, I have completed my task.

I have learned a few things today:

1- I do not like science

2- I may never use soap again

3- the English language changes way too much

I will now study the long term effects (affects?) of the Gravitational Force (page 212) felt between my butt and my couch while watching a Television, Colour page 166-169.

I thought it was “color”?

Wet pants and other problems

2005-10-04T21:15:00.000-07:00

Accused Nude Burglar Asks for Shorts
Tue Oct 4, 8:38 PM ET
A man accused of trying to burglarize a home while naked Tuesday stopped in mid-escape to ask the victim for a pair of shorts, a sheriff's spokeswoman said.
The victim threw the shorts to the accused burglar, who then fled, said Susan Quayle, a spokeswoman for the Yavapai County Sheriff's Department.
Nickos George Kopsaftis was later arrested next door, apparently while trying to steal a car, Quayle said. "He was wearing the shorts that were donated to him," she said.
Quayle said a man house-sitting for his father found Kopsaftis standing naked in an upstairs room holding two rifles belonging to the homeowner.
The victim told sheriff's deputies that he got the rifles away from the man, who ran away, but not before stopping outside to ask for clothes, Quayle said.
When deputies arrived, they found a pair of wet socks and a pair of wet pants with Kopsaftis' wallet and ID inside, Quayle said.
A banging sound from next door led deputies to a car which Kopsaftis appeared to be trying to hot-wire, she said.
Kopsaftis was booked into the county jail on two counts of burglary and two counts of attempted theft.
She said shed didn't know how Kopsaftis' pants got wet.

Cottonwood is about 45 minutes to an hour away. I’m confused about a few items here.

How do you wrestle a rifle away from a naked man?
After wrestling a rifle from a naked man, why would you then donate a pair of shorts?
Of all the issues involved here, the cop’s main concern is how his pants got wet?
What party was Kopsaftis coming from and why wasn’t I on the guest list?

moon over Paulden

2005-10-04T20:54:00.000-07:00

Another one I just really liked-taken a few weeks ago from my porch.

I think I see Jackie Gleason in there somewhere.

One of the complaints I hear about this area- Paulden in particular- is that there's nothing.

Maybe that's why I love it here.

With nothing to look at you just see more.

San Jose to Repair Smelly Sewage Line

2005-10-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

Fri Sep 30, 7:39 AM ET
It's no longer going to smell like ammonia and rotten eggs on one suburban street.
The area's main sewage line — a handmade brick pipe — was installed in the late 1890s, before Teddy Roosevelt was president. It's been collecting sewage and stench ever since.
"Sometimes, it's just overwhelming," accountant Nikki Warner said of the intersection of Zanker and Trimble. "Sometimes you go outside and, ugh."
Residents soon will be able to breath easier with the recent installation of reinforced concrete pipes. Filters also have been installed to move air out of the sewers and disperse the odor.
Within a short time, the area will no longer be, as Warner calls it, "the most smelly street in San Jose."
Copyright © 2005 The Associated Press.

Having spent 4 years working in an office on this very corner I can confirm that it is in fact the smelliest corner in the Bay Area.

Several coffee shops, delis, and hot dog stands have tried and failed in this location.

I would like to nominate 2 other locations for consideration in this category:

The corner of Coronado and Florida streets in Hayward- A kid named Justin lived there when I was in 3rd grade and he’s a poopy head.
The corner of Catalina and Lakeside in Paulden. There’s something going on there at the quonset huts that just ain’t right. By the way- there isn't a lake at or near Lakeside and that in itself needs investigating.

Good Eats from the Killing Fields

2005-10-02T08:14:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the killing fields cafe...
By Ek Madra Fri Sep 30,10:18 AM ET
A new Cambodian cafe is offering diners a slice of life under the Khmer Rouge, with a menu featuring rice-water and leaves, and waitresses dressed in the black fatigues worn by Pol Pot's ultra-Maoist guerrillas.

Newly opened across the road from Phnom Penh's notorious Tuol Sleng "S-21" Khmer Rouge interrogation and torture center, the cafe is meant to remind Cambodians of the 1975-1979 genocide in which an estimated 1.7 million people died.

But the set "theme menu" of salted rice-water, followed by corn mixed with water and leaves, and dove eggs and tea at $6 a time is proving too much to swallow for many visitors.
"Our grandfather and other relatives lost their lives under Pol Pot's regime," said 17-year-old manager Hakpry Agnchealy, whose brother owns the business. "This is more than just a restaurant. It is to remind us of those who died."

"We opened two weeks ago, but have only had two Europeans coming here to eat. We don't know how much longer we can go," she said.
Faithful to the Khmer Rouge era, when many victims starved to death after a disastrous attempt to transform the country into a peasant utopia, the waitresses are barefoot and clad in the black pajamas and red-white scarves of the guerrillas.

Speakers blare out tunes celebrating the 1975 toppling of U.S.-backed president General Lon Nol and the walls are adorned with the baskets, hoes and spades Pol Pot hoped would power his jungle-clad south-east Asian homeland to communist prosperity.
Recognizing that many tourists might not be able to stomach such a close brush with the Killing Fields, the "Khmer Rouge Experience Cafe" is also promoting itself to those wishing to shed a few pounds.

"It's good for me to slim down," said Tan, a 40-year-old Malaysian visitor.
For some who survived Pol Pot's rule, the cafe served up too many chilling reminders of one of 20th century history's darkest chapters.

"My mother visited me here once, saw the Khmer Rouge style and has never come back again," Hakpry Agnchealy said.
Copyright © 2005 Reuters Limited.

In a related story, The 9/11 Bar and Grill will be opening soon in Paulden, AZ and will feature fine Middle Eastern cuisine. Hostess Almalkjhisrbfgibubr Zurhlzekjhfiaurbfa shown (left) and lead waitress Aurghojudhgsiuern Sherlskjdfhgnowufeghn (right) show off the new menu which will include the ever popular soft boiled egg as shown below.

To further immerse customers in the theme waiters will throw paper airplanes at diners heads and crash dessert carts into tables.

From the shoe box

2005-10-02T07:12:00.000-07:00

An old photo I really like

Would You Believe….

2005-09-27T22:18:00.000-07:00

Would you believe Maxwell Smart is no more?

The star of Get Smart, spoof of spy stories like James Bond and Mission Impossible is gone. Don Adams was born to play Maxwell Smart, Agent 86, one of my all time favorite characters,.

Adams died on September 25, 2005 at the age 82.

Nothing to add here. Just catch the re-runs or pick up the DVD set and enjoy.

Check out this tribute page filled with fun stuff:

http://www.wouldyoubelieve.com/

Also be on the lookout for a theater version staring The Daily Shows and The 40 Year Old Virgin’s Steve Carell.

Doggie treats

2005-09-24T20:57:00.000-07:00

Puppy Swallows 13-Inch Knife, Survives

Sat Sep 24,11:51 AM ET
Jane Scarola's veterinarian thought the X-ray was a joke. He's seen strange items get into the stomachs of dogs before, things like kebab skewers and small utensils. But a 13-inch serrated knife that somehow was swallowed by a 6-month-old puppy?
That was a new one.
"I was just flabbergasted," the vet, Jon-Paul Carew of Imperial Point Animal Hospital in Fort Lauderdale, told the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.
Elsie, a Saint Bernard puppy, apparently had the blade between her esophagus and stomach for about four days before it was removed earlier this week in a 2-hour operation.
The puppy has an 8-inch scar, but is fine and back with her family. And the knife is back in Scarola's kitchen, albeit this time wrapped in a towel and placed in a cabinet atop the refrigerator.
"I'm going to frame it and give it to Dr. Carew," Scarola said. "He should hang it. Everybody should know what puppies are capable of putting down their throats."
Scarola used the knife to carve a turkey, and placed the blade on the counter — far from the edge.
She thinks one of her six other dogs — four Saint Bernards, a German shepherd and a Labrador — somehow got the knife, which eventually made its way to Elsie.
"She wants to eat everything and anything," Scarola said.

Information from: South Florida Sun-Sentinel, http://www.sun-sentinel.com

This story reminded me of the first time my buddy Chuck spent the night. Well, he lived with me for a while before this, but he slept in the back yard.

Upon his release form the Doggy Big House in Hayward, he was an outside room mate.

But one stormy night- lightning, thunder (or as Papa Tavares says “Tenders”) , and much rain I decided to give Chuckie a bath and let him stay the night in my room.

I turned off the TV and fell asleep.

About 2:00 am I was woke up by a screaming baby- as I have no kids this worried me a little.

This was followed by gunfire, a siren, rap music, a car chase and a crying preacher- it took a minute to realize that my TV was back on and switching channels all by itself.

The channels were flying by, the volume going from a whisper to top end.

At first, I thought it was demon possession, and, thinking how I’ve spent my life this was not out of line- then I saw Chuck- with my remote in his mouth, or, what was left of my remote in his mouth.
It was now just a jumble of plastic, rubber, and little pieces of circuit board.

He was munching and slobbering away, happy as a pig in slop- which was pretty close to the room décor anyway.

Chuckie lived outside for a long time after that.

In the months to follow he ate his dog house- a Dogloo brand- heavy-duty plastic. He didn’t just chew it up- he ate it. It was about 3 feet across and 2 ½ to 3 feet tall.

I only found a piece about 6 inches long in the dirt later- the rest was dissolved in his gut along with 7 shoes, 2 pairs of gloves, an old bulb style horn off a neighbors tricycle, one John Deer cap, a baseball mitt from 8th grade, the lining from a rain coat (the rest of the coat was unharmed, half a lemon tree, and the back seat from my ’76 Datsun .

But, eleven years later he’s still around.

But when he sits down hard I sometimes hear that horn honk.

What I miss

2005-09-24T11:37:00.000-07:00

Living out here is great- best move I ever made.

One thing I really miss? water- the ocean, the bay, knowing that water was only a quick drive away.

We have some local lakes and creeks, but nothing like SF bay or the Pacific.Time for the quick 6 hr drive to baja.

(top- sf bay-2002; below- goldwater lake, prescott, az 2005)

Real Jobs

2005-09-21T18:59:00.000-07:00

I started “working” for a living when I was 15.

When I say “working” I mean going somewhere, doing something, having taxes taken out, and getting a check for less than what I was supposed to take home.

My first “real” job was as a photographer. I would go somewhere, take a bunch of pictures, develop them, give them to the people that told me to go to that place, and they would give me money.

At first this did not pay much but I thought it was a job- I would go to a baseball or football game, watch player’s play, then get paid.

It was fun and I was pretty good at it. But the whole time I did it- almost twenty years- my friends and family would say "OK, but when are you going to get a real job?"

Most of my family was in the construction business. They built things-they made things that other people paid for.

Homes, businesses and stuff. They would show up to an empty place, spend some time there, and when they left there was a building or home left behind.

Others in my circle fixed things- things like cars and trucks or shoes.

They provided a service that others needed.

All of these people had what is known as a “real” job.

My dad, while he didn’t make, build or fix anything, he did supply things that built or fixed things. He worked for a tractor company for over thirty five years.

He didn’t make tractors. He didn’t drive tractors.

He didn’t even sell tractors.

But he did sell parts of tractors and when all of those parts were put together, that tractor built and or fixed just about everything. Highways, skyscrapers, homes, and factories.

That was a real job.

All the while, I took pictures and everyone said “Hey, that looks like fun, but when you gonna’ get a real job?”

Well, about 17 years after I started, after making a pretty good penny and winning some awards, I decided enough- I need a real job.

So I sold my business, looked in the paper, and found a real job.

I worked in security. I watched other people while they went to work in their real jobs.

I watched them go in and out of factories, banks, stores and building sites.

All the while my friends and family said “Seems OK for now, but when you gonna’ get a real job?”

This lasted for 8 years. I went from officer to supervisor to boss at the largest security company in the world. I was watching 1,500 officers who watched other people go to and from real jobs.

This, I found from listening to others, was in itself not a real job either.

After almost thirty years, I still didn’t have a real job.

I took care of my family, bought a house, paid my bills.

But I still hadn't found a real job.

So I packed up, left it all behind and went out searching for a real job.

I now work for one of the largest companies in the world. But When I tell people what I do they say “that’s nice, but when you gonna’ get a real job?’

After thirty years of enjoying going to work at non-real jobs; working for other people, working for myself and having other people work for me, I see others go to real jobs that create headaches, family problems, stress, and heart attacks.

Yet I can still pay my bills, spend time with my family and my best dog Chuck, and not have a real job-

Know what I found out?

I don’t want a real job.

More stuff from my garage

2005-09-19T17:38:00.000-07:00

I think I've said before, I really like my stuff. Does it work? Maybe, maybe not- who cares. Stuff is good. We all need more stuff.

Capitola, CA 2004

2005-09-19T17:26:00.000-07:00

Taken on a trip to Phoenix

2005-09-19T17:21:00.000-07:00

more stuff

2005-09-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

Some more- no reason, just stuff I liked-some old shoes, my buddy chuck, and the view from my front and back yard

pixnstuff

2005-09-19T15:32:00.000-07:00

Windmills outside of Livermore, CA

Lighthouse in Santa Cruz, CA

Trees at my house in Gilroy, CA

This was a barn down the street from my place in Gilroy, CA-

At Home

2005-09-19T12:55:00.000-07:00

I spent an afternoon recently looking through old photos and negs that I’ve collected over the years. I’ve been playing with those as well as new images and will post some as I find them.

This I believe

2005-06-19T23:25:00.000-07:00

NPR has recently begun to air a segment, left over from the 50' or 60's I think- called "This I believe"- an essay segment on any and all subjects- here is my entry:

This I believe-

I believe that we should save stuff. For years, since I was a child, I have been told to get rid of my stuff- stuff that others view as trash, garbage.

An old radio, a broken watch, a book I read when I was twelve.

When I got married my wife told me to get rid of all the things I don’t need or use. An old radio that works sometimes, a book with a torn cover, or the tie with unidentified green stains.

I believe that I, we, everyone, should hold on to stuff- to junk. Not because we need it, but because we should.

These things aren’t just stuff, just garbage or just an ugly shirt- these things are memories. They are reminders of a simpler time in our lives.

When I last wore that stained tie I was 16 and the biggest worry I had was whether or not Janine would kiss me good night or just shake my hand.

When I last journeyed through the pages of that torn book I was the pirate- the cowboy, or the cop- I had no bills, I wasn’t sick, and I wasn’t feeling the effects of age and gravity.

The last time I listened to that “piece of junk radio” was on a late summer night with my dad as he told me how he used the same radio 30 years earlier to listen to Jack Benny, The Green Hornet, and The Shadow.

I believe that today’s society is a throw away world, where, when something doesn’t work just right or fit into the current fashion trend we are expected to throw it away and get a new one.

I believe that we need to hold onto the memories of a simpler time- when it was OK if something didn’t fit or look just right because when we get right down to it, we’re all out of date, out of place, out of style, or just plain broken.

And when we begin to throw out what isn’t perfect in favor of what this society tells us is acceptable we have a bland sameness with no character-

And I believe I don’t want to live in a place like that.

401 k- Arizona style

2004-12-09T10:27:00.000-08:00

I am somewhat retired now.

Not by choice, I just can’t seem to get hired. I have applied at many businesses around here, and most of the people I talk to really seem interested. They like my qualifications, they like my experience, we really hit it off.

Then, when we review my work history, specifically the past wages area and duties, we hit a brick wall.

In CA dollars I didn’t make a whole lot, we were doing Ok, paid the bills, saved a little, but – take those dollars and translate them to Yavapai County money and they say, “woe- we can’t pay that.”

I say that’s OK- I will take whatever you are offering.

Then my work history- mostly supervisor and manager stuff- “well, we only have entry level positions available”. That’s Ok, I’ll take whatever you are offering.

These initial interviews are usually followed up by a letter or phone call explaining that “We have decided to fill the position with a candidate more suited to the current opening we have. However, if a management or supervisory position opens in the future, we will keep your resume on file for blah blah blah blah…” or something like that.

I know the problem. Sad to say, there was a time when I looked at prospective employees in the same manner. The feeling is that as soon as a better position comes along, the new hire will jump ship. But I always addressed that issue and gave the prospect the benefit of the doubt.

So I wait.

While I wait, I found out that I have something I haven’t had in a long time- Free Time.

This is not something I’m used to. For most of the past 15 or 20 years I spent most of my time at work. For the most part, I enjoyed my jobs and most of the people I worked with, so I stayed there. Much of my social activity was with folks I worked with.

Now, I have free time.

It pays though. Yesterday I decided to tune up the washer and dryer. I removed all the panels, removed all the screws and bolts and gave the machines a good cleaning; getting rid of all the lint and soap residue and gunk that can accumulate over the years.

This is a washing machine/dryer set that me or my family has owned since it was new. My mom bought it a few years after I graduated High School and gave it to me when I got married. They’re old, but work great.

So I performed an autopsy on the machines CSI style and found some interesting things.

Among the usual lint and junk, I found the following:

3 fish hooks and leaders- I haven’t fished since 1991
11 plastic guitar picks- 7 generic, 4 Fender- I have never owned a guitar pick
17 buttons-4 cloth, 7 plastic, 2 wood, 3 metal, and one that looks like some kind of bone. How have my pants been held up all these years?
2 books of matches- 1 from a Duarte’s Tavern in Pescadero, CA- nice place, and 1 asking if I have trouble with skin rash- I don’t. The one from Duarte’s still lights, so I kept it.
1 tank top/muscle t type thing. Blue with white letters that says “Roid Free”. I do not know where this came from or how it got between the washer drum thingy where you put your clothes and the rear panel. It’s a size small if you want it.
3 miller High life bottle caps.
$1.98- 3 quarters, 8 dimes, 5 nickels and 18 pennies.

So, in my retirement fund I now have 1.98 and a small tank top. And my pants are guaranteed to stay up.

I have also found that if I actually spend time reading my credit card and cell phone bills I find things like “Miscellaneous fee” and stuff like that- .75 cents here, $1.20 there, so I called my credit card companies to find out what they were.

The first card had a total of 4.78 cents in “Assistance Charges” I Called to ask what those “Assistances” were. I was told that this was in the event that I needed to call the credit card company for assistance, say if I was lost and needed directions or a phone number, or if I wanted to use there operator to find a phone number or make a dinner reservation for me.

I asked if I had done this and was told “No, but the service is there if you need it.” I asked if this was a subscription I needed to sign up for, I was told “No, but the service is there if you need it.”

I said I didn’t need it. The charges were reversed.

Retirement fund total: $6.76, pants that don’t fall down, and a blue tank top.

The next card I checked had a $47.00 “late fee” assessed. I went online to check my bank statement and found that the last payment was received and processed by the card people on November 15th by electronic transfer. It was due on November 20thth. They credited my account on November 29th- 14 days after they received the money.

There was also an “over the limit fee” of $62.00. This fee was assessed because on November 24th, 9 days after they took my money but 5 days before they finished playing with it, I spent $9.64 cents at the Safeway on some ice cream, bread, and soda.

I used this card quite a bit in November, so I knew I was running close to my limit, and sure enough, the $47.00 late fee, along with the $9.64 ice cream run put me $7.52 cents over limit. Which would not have happened if they processed my payment when they actually had the cash.

I called and asked why they took so long. The operator, Lance stated that this was highly irregular and all late and over limit fees would be refunded, All I had to do was to pay them, along with another “Service fee” of $25.00 and the who0le thing would be credited to my December bill.

What was the $25.00 “Service fee” for? This was, and I’m not joking, a telephone charge that I would have to pay for calling and being told that the credit card company had made a mistake and over charged me.

After much screaming all fees, the 25, the 47, and the 62 would be reversed.

This brings my total 401 k to $140.76, nice fitting pants, and a muscle T.

Next was my cell bill- Time and mental health do not allow me to get into the exact details, but it involves a news and sports text message service that was evidently subscribed to by the guy who used to own this number before I got it, several months of late charges that he did not pay, a customer service department that can neither add nor read a calendar. Nextel's Billing department wants me to pay $484.36 cents to them now on a bill they acknowledge should only be $96.69, with the assurance that as soon as this gets figured out they will happily refund me all that I over paid.

I have now, at least as of 0945 this morning, been assured that the $387.67 difference will be removed as soon as the billing department gets back from re-hab.

This brings my grand total to $528.43, pants that won’t fall down, and a Roid Free tank top.

Not a bad day’s work if you ask me.

Howdy pardner

2004-12-08T23:59:00.000-08:00

So after filling out an application, sitting through 2 interviews, taking a personality evaluations test, and peeing in a cup, Wal-Mart has decided that my seven years as a manager in the high tech and commercial security field is not enough to serve as a security guard at the Super Wal-Mart (maybe you need to provide your own cape), and my 17 years as a photographer and lab tech are not enough to work the one hour photo machine.

I knew I should have brushed up on my peeing.

Upon hearing this report, I decided to drown my sorrows the old fashioned way- a dark, smokey bar… a glass of ice, the ice swirling in a deep amber liquid… a small straw to stir it all up…the sound the ice makes as it clinks the sides of the glass…the way the bar lights dance as they reflect off the whole, beautiful sight…

So there I was in front of my Diet Coke with a cherry at Matt’s Saloon on Prescott’s Historic Whiskey Row. Matt’s Saloon is what’s called a Cowboy Bar. And oddly enough, I met a cowboy in there. He was an old, skinny, white cowboy with a huge hat.

He was drunk and loud.

My kinda’ guy.

I had a date that night with my wife and I had about an hour or so to kill, so I went on a pub crawl and started at Matt’s.

I sat, drank my Diet Coke, and listened. I had hoped to hear some tales of the Wild West, life on the range, learn about poking cows and punchin’ doggies.

But old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat had other problems on his mind- had his stock been rustled? Had his stake been grubbed?

He looked my way, set his drink down and sneered at me from under the brim of his great big hat. He walk..no, he moseyed on over and leaned against the bar next to me. He leaned in close. I waited, maybe he was going to aks me on over to join’ up with his posse, maybe hunt down some varmints.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat said “Conniger”. I said nice to meet you, I’m Santos. He said “No dummy. Conniger. Who played him? I know it wasn’t Tom Sellick”. I said what? “Conniger- the western. Who played Conniger. It was some guy, but it wasn’t Magnum, it was the other guy”. I told him I know the title, but sorry pardner, I ain't seen the flick. “Well it’s right on the tippy tip (yes he said ‘tippy tip’) of my tongue”.

Old skinny white cowboy with a huge hat then approached the rest of the folks in the bar, asking them if they new the guy that was on the tippy tip of his tongue that was the other guy not Magnum. No one did and the barkeep, a young gal knee high to a whippersnapper told him to shut up and sit down.

Well, you know what? He did. And as soon as his butt hit the stool he yelled “Sam Elliott!” and walked out of the bar.

All work and no play

2004-12-08T23:39:00.000-08:00

I’ve spent the first few weeks in Paulden unpacking, sorting through stuff that I haven’t seen in years. My last major move was from Hayward, CA in a 3 bedroom, 1200 sq ft home with a 2 car garage to Gilroy, CA- a small cottage of about 600 sq ft. This meant that for the past 3 or so years, all my stuff has been in storage.

Now I live in a nice 3 bedroom place, 1 car garage, and I have access to my stuff. I can play with my old cameras, I can set up my darkroom, I can watch my movies, I can read my books, I can look at all my old pictures, I can… well, you get the picture.

Unfortunately, what I should be doing is looking for a job so I can pay for the house so I can have a place to play with my stuff.

Originally I thought that I would transfer my old job from CA to the office in the Phoenix area, about 90 miles or so south of here. Then I thought, well, I don’t wanna.

Why drive almost 2 hours to do what I was so anxious to get away from? That and they didn’t have a job for me.

So I figured, the cost of living is less, I can afford to live on a lower wage, why not work right here in town? So I began driving around town to scout out prospective employers. I got in my truck, backed out of the driveway, and headed for downtown Paulden.

I reached the end of the road and then, well there was no then ‘cause that was downtown. Paulden consists of one store about the size of my garage that is painted hot pink and the main qualification to work there seems to be the ability to smoke 4 packs a day, and a second store/gas station/video rental that “ain’t hiring” says the 11 fingered girl working the register. I suppose the extra finger helps her ring things up faster.

The next town over is Chino Valley- somewhat bigger, but I decided to peddle myself in the Prescott Metro area- this is a city of about 43 or so thousand folks- several car dealers, a Super Wal-Mart (with another on the way), a Costco, Home depot, real life Mall and all kinds of other opportunities for a fine upstanding guy like me.

First stop was the Wal-Mart. I entered the store, headed for the Customer service desk to inquire as to career opportunities, but I got side tracked by a fabulous display of bargain priced DVD’s.

That Wal-Mart marketing team is on the ball.

In an effort to fully understand the Wal-Mart Mission Statement, I spent the next few days watching my new DVD collection. Ozzie and Harriett never looked as good as they do digitally re-mastered.

Remember, all work and no play means that you never get a chance to see your stuff.

Fresh and clean

2004-12-08T22:57:00.000-08:00

My second trip to Arizona went much smoother than the last.

I left on Friday October 22 at 5:30 am. I loaded up the Toyota with the remainder of my junk, whatever clothes I had left in the state, and my traveling posse of Charles Finkelstein and Magdalene Mayfield- AKA Charlie and Maggie, my 2 smelly dogs.

It was overall an un-eventful trip. The truck ran fine, the dogs slept most of the way, the strippers and hookers left me alone, and we all three arrived safe and sound.

The only speed bump, and I mean that quite literally, was Charley’s deposit of the previous nights re-cycled dinner on the lawn in front of the Bakersfield Auto Zone. California had been my home all of my life.

I have some very fond memories, some not so fond, some down right terrifying, and some memories that don’t exist.

Much of the late eighties and early nineties are a big blur, melting into aches and pains and some scars.

Not that I didn’t have fun because I think at times I did. I met some fascinating people, did some amazing things, and made some life long friends.

But I also wasted a lot of time- time I will never get back. I always wonder when I hear people say things like “well, I’m not proud of what I did, but I don’t regret anything I’ve done” or stuff like that. Trust me- there is much I am not proud of, there are many things I am downright ashamed of, there are many days, shoot, months that I wish I could jump in the way-back-machine and completely erase.

I view my move as a way to start fresh- not that I am running away from anything- trust me, those records will be around for many years to come and the pictures will last even longer. I just thought that it would be best to wipe some slates clean- to start with a clean page and see what tumbles out.
A sort of parole if you will. I don’t know if it’s the altitude, the fresh air, or what.

I just know I’m breathing a whole lot easier now.

Go east young man

2004-12-08T22:43:00.000-08:00

I’ve spent the last several weeks getting settled- I admit, it took much longer than expected.

In late September I left the Bay Area at precisely 12 noon on a beautiful Sunday in a 24 foot Budget truck, loaded top to bottom, left to right, in back and in the cab. I headed out on what should have been an 11 or so hour drive from Gilroy, Ca across to I5 south, through to Bakersfield, over to Needles, on into Arizona via I40 east.

Final destination was to be Prescott, AZ- my oldest brother’s new home town. Prescott is about 25 miles south of my new home town of Paulden. The plan being that I drive out on this fine Sunday, deliver all of my worldly possessions to a soon to be rented storage unit, then return to the bay area for my final two weeks of work and to, um, tie up all loose ends.

My wife was to follow me out in our van as one half of a caravan. The second half was our old friend Dan the Man in his car. They were scheduled to leave Gilroy on Monday morning at day break. She would stay at my brothers- find a job, finalize the transfer of the house, and I would return to the Bay Area with Dan the Man.

I was to return in 2 weeks with my two doggies in my truck, to my new home, find a job, and live happily ever after.

This, of course, was the plan- my plan- so it was not to be.

All went well, for the first few hours. I entertained myself by singing along to whatever classic rock station would come in. Reception was poor- the radio was an older AM/FM but no tape or CD player. The stations would fade in and out depending on where my head was positioned in relation to the left side view mirror and the passenger windshield wiper. I found that I could here Bob Seager when the wipers were on, the driver window was ¾ up, and my left nostril was clogged. AC/DC was best with the right wing open, the glove box closed, and my left index finger in my right ear. Oddly enough, Country stations and radio preachers came in loud and clear at all times.

Very disappointing as I do not like country music and I’m beyond saving.

As the sun set and the stations faded, I chose the lesser of 2 evils and locked in on a station that claimed to play the best of all kinds of music- Country and Western.

Several weeks prior to my departure, Stevo “Wonderbread” Tavares played for me a Buck Owens hit- Tiger by the Tail- a song I had never before heard. Within 3 hours between Baron, CA and Kingman, AZ I heard this classic 3 times.

I reached Kingman at around 10 pm. I had stopped several times on the road and was running about an hour or so behind. After 4 Rock Stars, 3 Red Bulls, and 2 Buck Owens I had the shakes but was getting tired. I decided that if I got too tired I would pull over, call my brother and let him know I would see him in the morning.

I pulled into a little truck stop gas station on the west side of Kingman and filled up with diesel. It was late and I was tired, so I went inside to buy a padlock for the roll up on the truck. I figured I could sleep some and arrive in Prescott around sun up.

I grabbed a cheapo lock, about 8 bucks worth and paid with a fifty. The clerk, who looked like Benny Hill in drag, rang me up and handed me 40 dollars in singles. I thought this strange and told her so, asking if she had any bigger bills. She laughed and said “I thought you were going out back”.

“Out back” turned out to be what looked like a hamburger stand but was in reality Kingman Az very own roadside stip clu… sorry, “Gentlemens Club”. I know this, not because I went in, but because when Benny Hill said “out back” I looked “out back” and saw 2 women about 52 years old, whose teeth have long ago decided that Kingman AZ was no place for respectable teeth to be, leaning up against a hamburger stand. I’ not sure, but I think I saw the pretty one smoking out of the hole in her neck.

I decided that I wasn’t that tired after all and got back in the truck and headed east.

An hour or so and a Buck Owens later, I arrived in what Arizonians call Seligman, the rest of us call it a gas station with a coffee pot. I pulled in and said hi to Gil behind the counter and some lady eating Cheetoes and poured myself what us truckers call “a cup of coffee”.

I got back in the truck ready to roll. The truck however was not. It would not start, no juice, no lights, no Buck Owens, no nothin’.

Hey, no problem, I had a 24 hour road side service number for budget for just such an emergency. After several attempts, I found that when Budget says “24 Hours” they don’t mean in a row. I then tried my AAA roadside service number, they’ll have someone out in one hour- that should mean I would be talking to a tow truck driver at around 11 pm, I would be on the road at about 11 20 or so, and in Prescott before 1 am. Good enough I said, please have the driver bang on the truck as I would be napping in the cab.

I shut my eyes and it seemed like only minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Wait, it was only minutes and this was no tow truck driver it was Cheeto lady. Had I forgot to pay? Not yet anyway. It seems as though this particular Chevron also caters to the more, lets say, carnal fuel. I assured her that I was quite fine waiting alone, and that if she was looking for more teeth to accompany the orange pair she now had, she could head west about an hour.

I woke at 2:30, and called AAA again. I was told that the driver was on his way, sorry for the delay. He did arrive at about 4:15, looked under the hood, obviously didn’t recognize much because he didn’t bother to touch anything, and said “I don’t even know where the battery is on these thing”, then closed the hood, got in his truck and left.

I re-entered the Gas 'n' Girl to call trips A and complain, but after 15 minutes on hold decided to try Budget once again. I evidently caught them between breaks and was told cheerfully by Dave the operator that he would be happy to send out a replacement vehicle within the hour and I could be on my way. I asked if they would also be sending out a moving crew to transfer all of my stuff to the new truck. Dave the operator said “maybe it would be better to send out a guy to try and start the truck”. I nominate Dave the operator for employee of the month. Dave the operator employee of the month told me that a tow truck would be out in 1 hour or less. That was at 4:35 am. Tow truck guy pulled up at 7:05 am. I was tired.

I arrived in Prescott at about 8 am on Monday September 20th. Tired, grumpy, and fully expecting that my wife and Dan the Man were enroute.

I called the Mrs. cell phone “were leaving in about a half hour”. Well, I was about 9 hours late, how could I complain? Dan the Man is notorious for being late, 8:30 was a pretty god start time for him. Ok 8:30 it is. I decided to take a shower and crash out.

10:45- “where are you guys now?” expecting, oh, Bakersfield at least. “we decided to get breakfast, we’re leaving for the restaurant in a few minutes”. Still at home? “yes”. Oh well, driving cars, not a truck, they’ll make good time.

11:50- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the café”. Hey, people gotta eat, right?

1:20- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the gas station”. Can’t drive with no gas, right?

2:15- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the house, we forgot something”. Good thing they remembered while they were still close to home, right?

3:45- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the store, we needed to pick up some stuff for the road”. Gotta have supplies, right?

4:10- “where are you guys now?”. “Just leaving the tire store- thought I’d get the tires rotated before the trip”. Better safe than sorry, right?

5:15- “where are you guys now?”. “We're going to eat dinner before we hit the road”. Hey, people gotta ea… wait, already used that. WHAT”S GOING ON? They’re 12 hours behind schedule and they haven’t left Gilroy yet!!

At 6:30, I got a call to inform me that as it’s getting dark, they’ll leave in the morning.

Bright and early.

At the crack of noon.

Wife and Dan the Man arrived on Wednesday morning at about 6 am- approximately 49 hours after they started an 11 hour drive and 24 hours before Dan the Man and I were scheduled to return to the bay area.

I decided then and there- I would do the driving on that trip.

AZ arrival

2004-11-02T11:26:00.000-08:00

I will update as soon as I can, but for now the Balou's are in AZ and still unpacking.

The computer is still in storage, so to the library I go.

Views on the new hometown will follow, updates on new happenings and stuff, but for now, all I have to say is the ZZ Top beard is alive and well and living in Prescott AZ.

Miracle of Miracles- Wonder of Wonders

2004-09-29T02:56:00.000-07:00

'Miraculous' Christ Washes Up in Texas Rio Grande

MONTERREY, Mexico (Reuters) - A fiberglass statue of Christ that washed up on a sandbar in the Rio Grande three weeks ago is attracting scores of devout pilgrims to a police department lost-and-found and being hailed as a miracle.

Police in Eagle Pass, Texas, said up to 40 people a day are coming to pay homage to the five-foot-tall figurine, known as "The Christ of the Undocumented," which was found by U.S. Border Patrol agents in the river.

"Some come to pray, and some come and just touch it," police lieutenant Daniel Morales said by telephone on Monday. "We have never experienced anything like this before, and interest is growing by the day."

Local Catholic Church authorities called the figure's arrival "miraculous" and said they wanted to place it in a specially dedicated chapel in the city.

"Jesus Christ manifests himself in many places, but he showed himself here in the way of an undocumented migrant," said Marta Ramirez, a spokeswoman for the city's Our Lady of Refuge Church.

In a related story, I was cleaning out my home and found an empty 2 liter Sam's Choice Root-Beer bottle from Wal-Mart.

It miraculously contained approximately three-dozen ants. These “Miracle Ants” as they are known in the area often congregate around sugary substances and are believed by locals to possess special, supernatural powers. They are able to lift objects many times their own weight and are rumored to be very hard working.

When asked for his opinion on the miraculous sighting, my landlord, known in the neighborhood as the Bird Man, was heard to say “Clean all that crap up before you leave- I aint’ your mother”.

The area around the Root-Beer bottle has become a gathering place for other local residents who are hoping to get a glimpse of the Miracle Ants.

Fellow tenant Michelle who lives next door asked, “When you leave can I have your garbage can? Mine has a broken handle”. It was unknown at press time if this “can” was to be used as a meeting place for other Miracle Ants, but local customs lead this reporter to believe that will be the case.

Other local residents were seen dividing up such artifacts as a broken ladder and a small Smokey Joe grill, presumably for purposes related to Miracle Ant Worship.

Kinda’ Hokey

2004-09-28T02:41:00.000-07:00

I know it’s pretty sappy, but I’ve spent the past few days in my soon to be former home in Gilroy, CA- It’s empty, it’s cold, and I’m sleeping on the floor with a 9 inch TV and fozen tamales to keep me company.

I have cans of soup but no can opener.

The wife is in AZ with the bird and the cat and the dogs are at the in-laws. I can’t leave them alone in Gilroy, because I’m spending most of my time before the final move out of the house taking care of bidness.

Last time I left them alone for too long, Chuck ran up a serious phone bill calling 1-900-NKD-PUPS- it’s just a phase that I’m sure he’ll grow out of.

With the house so empty, I got to thinking about all the stuff I’ve packed over the past week or so- all the junk I’ve collected over the years- old cameras-old books- old stuff in general.

I’m carrying around clothes that I have no chance to ever fit in again- shirts that Wonderbread calls my “ugly shirts”- but they all remind me of old trips, old friends, old places and I can’t bring myself to throw them out.

Old pictures, or worse yet, old negatives that I will probably never print or even look at again- stupid old pens and even a box of bottle caps that I can’t bring myself to dump.

I have a box of locks with no keys, a box of keys with no locks- I've tried and they just don't match- but I still can't throw either box out.

I have a box of Lp’s- you know- really big, black CD’s? I don’t even have a record player anymore, but I have all these records that we used to sit around and listen to in the dark when I was a kid- Bill Cosby, Steve Martin, Jonathan Winters- and even an old Treasure Island story record from Disney.

Sitting alone in an empty house, I got to thinking of a Tom Waits song - House Where Nobody Lives- I know- hokey- but it fits- here’s a slice of it:

Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone's heart break
Or did someone do someone wrong?
So if you find someone
Someone to have, someone to hold
Don't trade it for silver
Don't trade it for gold
I have all of life's treasures
And they are fine and they are good
They remind me that houses
Are just made of wood
What makes a house grand
Ain't the roof or the doors
If there's love in a house
It's a palace for sure
Without love...
It ain't nothin but a house
A house where nobody lives

A house and the stuff in it are fine and good- but without someone to share it with, the house might as well be empty- a house where nobody lives-

Don’t trade that someone for anything- silver or gold or Cosby records-

Make that house a palace.

I miss Charlie.

Oh- and my wife too.

Getting Acquainted

2004-09-28T02:24:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to do in Blogonia is to roam the profiles- search for common interests, weird names and places, strange photos-

Looking through the links for my new neighborhood, I found this link for Adventures In Life- a Prescott, AZ resident- cool site, great photos of Chop Rock- I think it’s in Utah.

Check it out- good stuff.

Bid Against Terrorism

2004-09-27T05:19:00.000-07:00

The thrill of victory.

The rush of adrenalin that comes with winning a bid- I was bidding on an old telephone- an antique candlestick phone from Italy- I don’t know why, but that’s not the point- the point is that I won.

Take that Pollastrello. You sound like some foreigner anyway.

Probably some commie who would only use a phone for some rotten commie terrorist type activity.

I began my bid against terrorism around 0200 today (all actions in the War Against Terrorism should be documented in military time) and found that I was not alone in my bidding. Pollastrello- if that’s his real name- was also bidding.

I conducted some surveillance on El Pollastrello and found he has been busy in the bidding community. Very disturbing remarks were found in his profile, or Dossier as it’s known in the business- the War Against Terrorism business that is.

Check out these communiqués that I intercepted:

Veramente ottimo. Venditore molto serio e puntuale. Grazie- left by pieroerosapren

cortese- puntuale- CONSIGLIATISSIMO! CONSIGLIATISSIMO! Perfetto- left by jerrycia95*

Disponibile e simpatico!! CONSIGLIATISSIMO!!- left by crevalcore01

And check out this one – from Hong Kong-identifying some secret "tracking number" or as we say On The Job a "secret code number used for evil commie activity"

the tracking number is RR833137706HK, Check www.hongkongpost.com once more.- left by tradeexpanding

I don't know what kind of sicko he is, but rest assured, El Pollastrello is up to no good. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he has a beard and belongs to some cell somewhere- like Fresno maybe. That's a hotbed for those types.

As the deadline approached, I managed to refresh my page and ultimately win my Bid Against Terrorism.

Chalk one up for the good guys.

Semper Buy

And Away We Go

2004-09-26T03:20:00.000-07:00

I’ve been away for a while. I took a week off of work and nobody noticed.

I often compare my current job to the duty performed by Milton Waddams in Office Space- no one knows why I’m there and I don’t do anything once I arrive. While I’m writing this, I’m watching Gunfight at the OK Corral with Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas. Cheezy flick but it keeps me awake.

I finally made it to my new home.

I spent 20 hours in a moving van on a 10 hour trip that started with the cops knocking on my door in Gilroy, moved on to a run in with hooker in Needles, a strip joint in Kingman, being woke up by a tow truck driver in Seligman, and finally, arriving to home sweet home in Paulden, AZ, population now 3,422 (3,426 if you count Chuck, Maggie the smack addict dog and a cat and a bird).

The trip will be dealt with in a later blog- when I regain my strength- but for now, I have 2 more weeks of watching TV and looking for my stapler in Campbell, CA then I’m off, for good to the Grand Canyon state..

Is it odd to buy a house site unseen in a town I’ve never been to, where I know no one, and have no job?

Here’s to new places and new adventures.

Yippee Kye Yay,
or something like that.

Speechless

2004-09-12T04:50:00.000-07:00

All I can say is "Hmmm...."

Way Ahead of the Curve

2004-09-07T01:51:00.000-07:00

I am finally being appreciated for being the forward thinker that I am- The AFP News Service reports that naps are now good.

Taking naps and even installing beds at work can boost productivity and morale.

Companies are encouraged to put out food and beverage in areas designated as creativity rooms for brainstorming sessions.

Not to toot my own horn, but I pioneered this practice.

For years my office was a virtual paradise of creativity and brainstorming. I had a couch for sleeping and a fully stocked bar filled with beverages and food- if you consider cocktail onions and olives as food.

The story goes on to site the case of Beach Boy Brian Wilson, who "stayed in bed for two years at the height of his powers in the mid 1960s in what fans refer to as his 'hibernation period'”.

I once went to bed on a Sunday morning in 1989 after a particularly hard few days of “creativity and brainstorming” over at Hobies Roadhouse in Concord. When I woke up on Tuesday, while I didn’t feel too creative, I did feel the storm in my brain.

So in an effort to become a more productive and morale employee, I will now crawl under my desk and say good night.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Jesus- Where Are You?

2004-09-06T05:12:00.000-07:00

Why have you forsaken me?

I can’t find Jesus. I looked at the Caravan. Checked the bus station. Stopped by the fountains down town. No Jesus.

Jesus is missing.

Recently I talked to Jesus and he helped me put my problems and priorities in order.

I had a really good week. I felt better about myself and my life- where it is going and what I have accomplished, and I wanted to thank Jesus for all he had done.

I wanted to thank Jesus for his help.

But Jesus is missing.

I asked around and word on the streets is Jesus got arrested.

Treason? Heresy? Blasphemy?

No, Chookie said it was shoplifting and could I spare a buck for old time sake. Here’s a buck, now surely Jesus would only steal for a good cause- to feed the poor? To protest societies obsession with commercialism and greed?

No- he said it was for a bag of Funions at the 7-11 on E. Santa Clara and could I have another buck for later.

Chookie is scary so I gave him another buck and said I have to go.

So, if anyone sees Jesus, tell him thanks for me.

And he owes me 2 dollars.

Mike Tyson and the Pigeon Man

2004-09-06T03:58:00.000-07:00

I rent from the Pigeon Man.

The man who owns my house owns pigeons- not a few, not many- not a lot. I think he owns them all.

The ones in the park that poop on the statues? His.

Parked at Safeway and let loose on your windshield? His.

That one from 11 grade that crapped on my shoulder in the quad at lunch? Not his cause I fed it alka seltzer and no body owns that one no more.

He, I am sure, owns every pigeon in California- or at least southern Santa Clara County.

On the field out back of our house he built several pigeon coops to hold the resident birds, the ones not bombing the rest of the state. At any given time he has several thousand tenant- He’s kind of a pigeon slum lord.

One of the human tenants that live in our complex also raises birds. Together they have their own little pigeon kingdom.

It’s an old farm we live on, 3 cottages behind pigeon man’s house and it’s really nice. Quiet, peaceful, out in the country. I really like it, and will miss the place when we move.

I was talking to my fellow tenant the other day and he told me we had a visitor- It seems he met Mike Tyson at a pigeon show recently and Iron Mike bought some birds from him. Tyson came out west to look them over and arrange for shipping.

It just seems weird- Mike Tyson in my back yard. He had his entourage, or was it a posse? I’m not sure.

My neighbor said that when he met them all up in San Jose at the airport, they stopped at a store on the way to the farm and mike sent a guy, a posse-ite, into the store for a drink. Mike gave him a fifty, the guy brought back a coke and that was that- no change, no nothing.

A little strange, but oh well.

They got to the farm, looked over the birds, and made arrangements for shipping them out to Tyson’s home, in NY I think. The total cost for shipping would come to about 75 buck according to my neighbor. He told Tyson that he could add it to the bird bill or send them COD. Tyson handed him five 100 dollar bills and said that should cover it. My neighbor, being the good guy that he is, tried to give Tyson back the money, but he wouldn’t take it- Neighbor guy explained that he didn’t want to take the money- but, as we all know: Never argue with a crazy man-

My neighbor didn’t want to be another celebrity leech- taking something he didn’t earn, taking advantage of someone.

Tyson was at one time the most feared boxer in the ring. He is now a side show freak- The tattood faced crazo who threatens to eat your children.

Fifty bucks for a coke, 500 to mail a package.

No wonder he’s broke.

'tarded

2004-09-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

I’m officially retarded.

Although I’ve been accused of this in the past, it is now official.

I stopped at Long’s Drugs today to look for an ointment- I won’t get into the details here, lets just say it was for a “friend”.

Anyway, while searching for the product, my cell phone rang. My phone is small, not one of those micro-teeny-tiny jobs, but pretty small. Especially compared to my head.

I answered the phone while reading the label of container to determine if this was the product my “friend” needed.

So here I am, with my head tilted to hold my phone between my ear and shoulder, while walking through the store, reading this label.

I turn around and there’s a clerk watching me- She asks if I need any help, I tell her ‘no thanks” and continue my conversation.

A minute or 2 later, I see that now there are two clerks watching me from the next isle, looking over the top of the row- I catch there eyes and they both turn away quickly.

I say to my caller, half jokingly “Hey I think I’m being followed”.

As I approached the front of the store, still on my call, I was now being followed by three persons- all trying not to look at me.

I said into the phone “hold on a minute” then, placing the phone in my hand I asked “Can I help you with something?” All three people looked at each other and burst out laughing.

The first lady who had approached me then said “Sorry- I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but we thought- well, we thought you were retarded or something. The way you were holding your head all crooked and talking to yourself, we thought there was something wrong with you. You know- mentally”.

Now, how could I take that the wrong way.

So, now I’m retarded.

I want a blue parking space.

Boogey Town

2004-09-01T03:12:00.000-07:00

"Oh, I ... Ohhh I ... I love the nightlife,
I got to boogie-
on the disco 'round, oh yea."
Alicia Bridges- 1978

Where have you gone Alicia Bridges?

Yavapai Valley That’s where!!

I am looking forward to my move.

Time to break out the dancing shoes 'cause we goin’ to a hoe down.

Check out these listings courtesy of the Daily Courier

VULTURE MINE ROAD BAND from Wickenburg plays rock ‘n’ roll and oldies from 8 p.m. to midnight Friday and Saturday at Hooligan’s Pub,

ROBERTSON COUNTY BAND rattles the rafters at 8:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday at Matt’s Longhorn Saloon on Whiskey Row.
Hey- I got my own Saloon- and it’s a Longhorn to boot! I’m looking forward to taking a walk on Whiskey Row.

The Piano Bar Stylings of PETE REVELLE begins at 5:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday at the Uptown Restaurant
Yes- the Stylings of Pete at the Uptown. Tray Sheek

And don’t forget the fun to be had at Krazy Rayz, The Pine Cone Inn Supper Club, Coyote Joe’s, and of course, Mason’s Music Barn on Williamson Valley Road.

And Yes Wonderbread- Karaoke is everywhere.

You can have my Kibbles, but don't touch my Bits

2004-09-01T01:55:00.000-07:00

As you may know, I am a dog lover- up to a point-
Check out his story from the AP:

Dog Bites Off N.M. Man's Genitals
Tue Aug 31, 8:22 PM ET

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. - A man whose genitals were bitten off by a pit bull remained in serious condition Tuesday, and the dog remained on the loose.

I know this sounds horrible, but read on-

When police arrived to help, the man appeared disoriented and fled on foot but police tracked him to a nearby park…
The man was naked when found at the park, but it was unclear at what point he had taken off his clothes. Neighbors had seen him playing with the dog earlier in the day.
Arbogast said investigators do not know why the man was naked, and remain uncertain about some circumstances surrounding the attack…
Shortly after the attack Monday, Gov. Bill Richardson released a statement saying he would proposed legislation next year aimed at holding owners of dangerous dogs accountable for their pets.

What about legislation for naked guys “playing” with dogs?

I would have bitten him too.

A guy walks into a bar….

2004-08-31T05:44:00.000-07:00

Update: I have put an offer on a home. It looks like the Balou family will be moving to Arizona soon.

I’m really nervous. The only major purchases I’ve ever made were at BevMo, Liquor Barn, and the All-Can-U-Eat Seafood Boofay at the Rio in Vegas.

I can’t help but get a warm, fuzzy feeling from the local town folk in the Grand Canyon state- they are welcoming me with open arms.

Check out their welcome matt- (key word closing time- now 2 am instead of 1 am)

I hope they serve Kool-Aid.

Hair today, gone to China

2004-08-30T03:39:00.000-07:00

At a very early age, 16 or so, I started losing my hair.

Not much. Just a little thinning on top, near the crown of my head.

My hair was always very thin and straight- not much body to it, so this little bit made me nervous. But, as it would thin, it would grow back, not as much, but not real noticeable either.

I toyed with the idea of converting to Judaism, the yarmulke would have covered it nicely and I’ve always thought Fiddler on the Roof was a masterpiece, but decided against it in the end.

The whole no-bacon thing kinda' killed it for me.

At the time it really bothered me. Remember- this was pre its-cool-to-shave-your-head days. Hair bands were in, Midnight Oil was still on the horizon.

I had heard that hair loss potential can be gauged by the mother’s side of the family, so I asked my mom if anyone on her side was bald- she said only her aunt- I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but soon the hair loss leveled out, so I didn’t worry too much.

Now, I’m in my late 30’s and male pattern baldness isn’t uncommon in my age group.

Over the years, I often wondered what happened to my hair. It wasn’t as if my comb was filled with lost strands or my shower drain was being clogged, I just knew that I had less hair.
Where did it go? Was there some strange place where lost hair, keys and single socks go to congregate? Was there some black market for hair? The wig makers of the world trading in some sleazy back alley?

I now know. Reuters has blown the lid on the lost hair conspiracy. Lost hairs unite- on one guy.

I think I’ll ask him if he knows where my missing black sock is.

Chuckie boy

2004-08-25T06:12:00.000-07:00

Alright- this puts it into perspective. You know Charlie? My buddy? His pictures below- he’s around 11 or so. That’s almost 80 to you and me.
He’s feeling the aches and pains of growing old, he spends most of the day just lying around watching TV and sleeping.
Sad to say, I don’t think he has much time left. He spent some time as a youngster in the Doggie Big House, was abused as a child, ran with the wrong crowd.

But since his parole, he has led the straight and narrow. With the exception of an eaten car seat and the occasional trip down garbage can alley, he’s been a good guy.

I have been rooming with him longer than I’ve been married. Over 10 years he’s been by my side- a loyal side kick and drinking partner. Me with the bourbon and branch water, Chuck with the kibble and toilet water.

I had the idea that, when his time comes, I’d have him stuffed. Maybe pose him on all fours, put Velcro patches on his sides to hold the remote, a small plank inserted into his back as a little cocktail table. Or maybe standing upright, with his lips pulled up exposing his teeth Cujo style as a burglar deterrent.

Anyway, I thought that was a great idea- a fitting memorial to an old pal.

Like most things in my life, this was evidently not correct. I know that because Mrs. Mattybalou said so. And she’s always right. Ask her. She’ll tell you.

Then I saw this: Dead Teenager Kept in Home 36 Years

Suddenly, I don’t think I was so wrong.

Come to think of it, I have an uncle who aint looking so hot and I need a new sofa.

Old man in the neighborhood

2004-08-24T11:58:00.000-07:00

We all had one

An old man who only came out of the house to yell at us.

When you played fast pitch with a tennis ball and hit it in his yard, no one wanted to get it.

His yard was where Wilson and Spaulding went to die.

He was always “Ol’ man” whatever- In our neighborhood it was Ol’ Man McCloud.

He was a tall, lean man with a widows peak and glasses. Never smiled. Never laughed. He looked like a school principal, not that any of us knew, because no one ever talked to him.

His lawn was immaculate, his cars were always clean, his trees were always trimmed. He was the one stand out Caucasian in our neighborhood- the lone upper middle class home owner on a street lined with lower middle class renters.

He never did or said anything to contribute to our view of him, as I said, no one ever talked to him. But in our minds, if we ever did, he would be mean and nasty.

We spent years avoiding him- watching balls and Frisbees and stuff sail over his fence and on his roof. Lost forever.

Mean Ol’s Mr. McCloud- Every street has one because every street needs one.

Years later, my brother and I were grown. He had a son of his own and his family moved into the house we all grew up in. I was over one day and I heard my nephew James talking to some of his friends- they were all about 10 or so, and they were talking about Mean Ol’ Mr. McCloud.

It seems that one of the boys had hit a ball over McCloud’s fence and they were arguing over who should go knock on the door and ask for it. My brother and I just listened and laughed- we knew what was up- that ball was gone for good.

While we sat and watched them argue, it was obvious that no one had the guts to face the Ol’ man on the street.

Just as they were about to give up and search for a roll of duct tape to make a new ball, we all heard a faint chuckle. We turned towards the fence to see Ol’ Man McCloud leaning over the fence, smiling at us.
He turned to my brother and I and said “It sems like yesterday that you two were playing out here”. Actually, it had been because my bother and me never did grow up, but we knew what he meant. What felt like years to a kid flies by in minutes as we get older. And he was right, it did feel like only yesterday that me and my brother, Scotty and Brian, David Williams, the Jacksons, and Mark Robinson (in my opinion the smartest guy in the world) were all playing in the same streets, losing balls and toys in the same yard as my nephew and his crew were doing now.

Mr. McCloud just watched. And smiled. Something I had never seen, or noticed, him do in my whole life.

He disappeared for a few minutes, then came out of his yard with a big box, had to be about 2 or 3 feet square. It was full of balls- baseballs, tape balls, tennis balls and even footballs. And a pool ball- the ivory kind. Don’t know how that one got there. McCloud came around the gate carrying this box and it occurred to me- he’s not as tall as he used to be. He’s a lot smaller- always thin, now he seemed, well, tiny.

He said “ya know, I’ve been finding these things in my yard for years. I was kinda hoping that someone would come by and pick them up, I didn’t know what to do with them.” It occurred to me, well, why not just give them to us? Then I remembered that every time he stepped out of his house or drove up in his car, we all ran like cockroaches when you turn the light on.

So we took the box, thanked him, and my nephew and his cronies were set for another season of playing "bottom of the ninth, bases loaded".

My brother and I stood talking and smiling with Mr. .McCloud for a little while, then, as the light faded we said our good byes.

After that, when visiting my brother, I always made a point to stop by and talk to Ol’ Man McCloud- it turns out he had a passion for photography, even gave me a couple of books on the subject as that was my bread and butter at the time. We would talk music- he had a jazz album covering the musical Fiddler on the Roof- sounds odd, but it was really quite good. We would talk about whtever- just stuff and junk as we used to say.

My brother moved from the house, I moved from the area, and, sad to say, I don’t know if Mr. McCloud still lives in that house, or lives anywhere for that matter.

But it got me thinking- every street needs a grumpy old man.

I hope to be moving soon. To a new house. A new city. A new state.

In honor of Ol’ Man McCloud, I resolve to be the Grumpy Old Man.

Look out Paulden, AZ- populaton three thousand four hundred.

And stay off my lawn!

Long Live Blogonia

2004-08-24T05:32:00.000-07:00

I have been kicked out of many places: bars- quite a few; restaurants- some; toy stores- 3 (but not for the reasons you may think.

I was kicked out of Frontier Village when I was 8, Disneyland’s “It’s a small world” twice and the entire city of Fresno. Something to do with the zoo, Seagram’s 7 and a teacher from LA Pierce Jr. College. It’s all very complicated and deserves a post of it’s own.

I have been asked to refrain from visiting Sears stores in Alameda, Santa Clara and San Joaquin Counties, but only until 2010. Apparently America can shop there, but not me.

But I am particularly upset about being 86’d from Blogonia.

On August fifth I made a simple post- a picture of my dog Chuck. I attempted to log in later that day but was told that my password was invalid.

That is like having your Bloganian pass port confiscated. I went online and sought help- Help is on the way I was assured. 4 days later I received an e-mail saying that I could enlarge various parts of my body in 6 short weeks- this has nothing to do with this particular post, I just found that fascinating. Details to follow in 21 days.

Anyway, later on I got another e-mail saying that I would be able to again travel the beautiful county side of Blogsville by following the “link below”. Of course I clicked immediately- only to be asked to supply my user name and pass word to proceed.

I would need my password to retrieve my password.

Let me repeat:

I would need my password to retrieve my password.

So there I sat, for 3 weeks. A man without a country. A citizen of No-where.

I don’t know who stepped in, the Ambassador, Consul General, I don’t know. All I know is that today, I pointed and clicked.

Then I went to my computer, and here I am.

Home at last.

Jesus and the Caravan

2004-08-24T05:24:00.000-07:00

(photos courtesy of Jim Rees http://jim.rees.org/ )

Long time, no blog

I have been away- I spent a little time away from Blogonia.

Many changes have come up lately, personal and secular.

As I’ve pointed out in the past, I’m a people person, I enjoy meeting folks, talking to them, generally getting to know them so I can then make fun of them, but occasionally, I meet people I genuinely enjoy being around. My boss, er, former boss was one of those. I met him 4 or 5 years ago, but he was one of those guys that you feel like you’ve known for decades. After talking, and drinking together many nights, we found that while we came from very different backgrounds, we had many similar experiences, interests (Bombay Sapphire being the main one) and even shared some common acquaintances. It is quite possible that 15 or so years ago we crossed professional paths without knowing it-

He spent 26 years in an industry that spit him out when it was through with him- not fair.

In the weeks that that has happened, more people that I have gotten close to are being walked out, others keep looking over their shoulders- not fair.

I am waiting, each day maybe my last- not fair- wrecked my body, mind, pretty close to my marriage over this job, I probably won’t last the end of the month- not fair.

Know what? Life aint fair.

I got it pretty good by most peoples standards, but it took the voice of one man to make me realize that.

Yes, I’m talking about Jesus.

The other day, I was in San Jose, parked on a corner. Laying back in my van. Thinking. Meditating. Sleeping. When I heard a voice- a soothing, calming voice.

I looked out through the windshield, through he rays of sun and I saw him.

I didn’t know who he was of course, I could barely make out a figure surrounded in the glowing sunshine. I saw his silhouette and heard him say “Your time has come” At first I was afraid, I asked “ Who are you?” He responded "don’t be afraid, I am Jesus. I am here to help.”

I was at the same time frightened and excited, desperate, yet somehow refreshed by his words. I said “Jesus, how do you know? Please tell me- How can I make use of my short time left? Guide me- tell me what to do!”

Jesus said “it is easy, give me a quarter, I will give you more time.” I didn’t know what this meant, but I reached into my ash tray, retrieved a quarter- then thought, hey it’s Jesus, I gave him 84 cents.

He said, thank you. I watched in anticipation and amazement- what would he do. Turn my quarter into millions and feed the world? Give me the secret to happiness and show me how to survive in this cutthroat world of unemployment and downsizing?

He reached towards the curb and placed three quarters into the meter and said “There you go, you got about a 45 minutes now.”

Jesus said he was hungry, could I help?

As I exited the van, I realized Jesus was wearing torn jeans, a 49er’s jersey and rubber flip flops.

Jesus is short.

Jesus lives outside of the Greyhound Bus Depot downtown.

Jesus last name is Ortiz.

Jesus has a girlfriend, her name is Shelly.

Jesus has a friend named Chookie.

Chookies kinda scary- lots of tattoos and a knife scar on his neck.

Jesus smelled.

So, Stinky Jesus, Shelly, Chookie and me all went inside the Caravan for some chilidogs and Nachos. I had a diet coke- Jesus had Miller High Life, Shelly was OK and Chookie likes rum and coke. Not a wine drinker in the bunch.

Jesus used to work in a body shop, but got arrested for possession and assault (because he was high and thought the cops were after his stash). The assault thing didn’t really count because he was so faced he took 2 slow motion swings and spun around like a cartoon before falling in a bush. He got out last week after doing 11months of 18 in Elmwood.

He actually likes jail. It gives him time to think. Time to rest. Time to clean out. And, he says, if you hook in with someone in laundry, you're guaranteed clean undies for your stay.

Nothing contributes to the rehabilitation of the criminal element like fresh chonies.

Jesus, Shelly, and Chookie taught me a lot that day. They reminded me that whatever life throws at you, whatever bad things happen, I have a place to live, I have a family to talk to, I have clean underwear.

They reminded me that others do not have it as good as I do. They reminded me that the grass is not always greener on the other side.

And I learned a very important lesson: Never ever touch Chookie on the scar.

So remember, Life aint fair, but for the most part it’s pretty OK.

So, if your ever downtown near the bus station, stop by the Caravan.

And remember: Jesus like chilidogs.

2004-08-05T22:55:00.000-07:00

My buddy chuck- Full name: Charles Finklestein- always give you pets first and last names- that way they can order 12 cd's for a penny too.

No More Violence!!

2004-08-04T12:18:00.000-07:00

We All Scream for Ice Cream
Wed Aug 4, 9:34 AM ET

OKLAHOMA CITY (Reuters) - An Oklahoma ice cream man opened fire on a customer after a summer ice cream sale turned sour, police said on Tuesday.

Police in Enid, about 75 miles north of Oklahoma City, said they arrested Markus Miller, 29, an ice cream truck driver for Summer Song, on Sunday on two misdemeanor charges as well as a felony charge of pointing a firearm.

If convicted, Miller could receive up to 10 years in jail on the felony charge.

According to police, an 18-year-old woman approached Miller's ice cream truck and the conversation degenerated into a heated argument.
Miller is suspected of taking out a pistol and firing two shots at the feet of the woman. She was struck on the collarbone-area by either a bullet fragment or debris from the shots, police said.

Miller was arrested in his ice cream truck a short distance from the incident and police recovered a hand gun from the vehicle, they said.
"It is not a normal or legal thing, anywhere in the country to carry a handgun without a permit while selling ice cream," said Sgt. Eric Holtzclaw, a spokesman with the Enid Police Department

I love ice cream as much as the next guy- I am passionate about my flavors. I am prepared to argue and defend the merits of Jamoca Almond Fudge with any who dare speak ill of the Jamoke- but I to, feel as Sgt Holtzclaw- "It is not a normal or legal thing, anywhere in the country to carry a handgun without a permit while selling ice cream,"

That privilege is reserved for the churro dealers only.

Sad Day-

2004-08-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

French Photo Legend Cartier-Bresson Dies
PARIS (Reuters) - Frenchman Henri Cartier-Bresson, widely regarded as one of the great photographers of the 20th century, has died aged 95, LCI television reported on Wednesday.

http://www.henricartierbresson.org/

http://www.afterimagegallery.com/bresson.htm

http://www.photology.com/bresson/

Search the web and view images- this was one of the greats- His work was not as refined as , say Ansel Adams, or other famous photogs- but his images were so real, reflecting everyday life in beautiful and often humorous ways- a gritty realism that many, including myself, attempted to imitate over the years. Composition was key- the tilted horizon, the "shot on the run" style- the motion blur was just as important as the subject-

Magnum was the premier agency-
Bresson the founder- the master.

Old friends Lloyd Francis Jr, and Howard Ford turned me to Bresson years ago- I spent a career as a photographer attempting to be like him- never came close.

He will be missed.

31,536,000 seconds

2004-08-02T04:00:00.000-07:00

Well it's hotter 'n blazes and all the long faces
there'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
there'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo…
There's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer…
no Bourbon, no Branchwater
there'll be no stopping here…
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
Tom Waits- Town with no cheer (SwordfishTrombones)

August 2, 2003- A day that will live in infamy-
12 months or 365 days or 8,760 hours or 525,600 minutes or 31,536,000 seconds. It all means the same- my last drink. It was a Guinness and a shot of Tullamore Dew at The Black Watch in Los Gatos.

Tom Waits wrote the words above in or around 1982. His wife and longtime writing partner, Kathleen Brennan, said to him that the song was so beautifully sad and lonely he must have loved “her”, whoever it wrote it about, very much. His reply? This ain’t a love song- it’s a song about when you can’t get a drink.

Last August I set a goal- 1 month, no drinking. See how it goes. That month came and went. Then someone told me that when most people decide to stop drinking, they usually mean alcohol. I was really glad to hear that, so I drank a bucket of Kool-Aid and peed for an hour. OK, 6 months. Came, went. OK, 1 year. Came, went.

The world is not a better place. Politics is still politics, prices are still high, people still die, and my dog still stinks. But on the bright side, instead of sleeping the sleep of a guy with a beer or 2 or 3 or 4 in his head to float him off to dream land, I get to toss and turn at night with every ache and pain and mattress lump clearly defined.

Yay.

People say that the economy is on the rise, but several east and south bay bars were forced to close their doors. I blame the economy in general, but I get nasty looks on the street anyway.

I’m thirsty. I think I’ll make some Kool-Aid.

Beerbeerbeerbeer, beerbeerbeer, beerbeerbeerbeer, mmmmbeer.

2004-08-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

Like it? That's my Beer Song- I'm gonna go to Nashville, be a rockin roll star.

1,000-Year-Old Brewery Unearthed
Fri Jul 30, 9:59 AM ET
MIAMI (Reuters) - U.S. researchers have unearthed what they say may be the oldest known brewery in the Andes, a pre-Incan plant at least 1,000 years old that could produce drinks for hundreds of people at one sitting...

At least 20 ceramic, 10- to 15-gallon vats were found at the site some 8,000 feet up in the mountains of southern Peru...

Patrick Ryan Williams, assistant curator at the Field Museum, said each nobleman would have consumed up to 2.6 gallons of chicha per ceremony...

Archeologists discovered what they think are halls for "ritual intoxication" at Cerro Baul, where Wari noblemen apparently feasted and drank...

Mike Moseley, associate chairman of anthropology at the university, said the halls "become a place where politics are negotiated and economic decisions are made"...

The Wari civilization thrived from about A.D. 700 to 1000, conquering all of what is modern Peru before swiftly and mysteriously declining.

Nice. Lets review the facts:
1. drinks for hundreds of people at one sitting
2. 20 ceramic, 10- to 15-gallon vats
3. consumed up to 2.6 gallons of chicha per ceremony
4. politics negotiated
5. economic decisions made
6. Wari civilization swiftly and mysteriously declined
I'm no scientist, but I think I solved the mystery.
If I drank 2.6 gallons of chicha, or even chicha lite, the first thing declining would be my pants.

This reminds me of a time many moons ago at my friend Gary's house- his parents were out of town, so we threw a little chicha ritual of our own- 70 or so of our closest friends.

What I remember is the hot tub filled with about 40 or so Swiss Miss instant coco packets with the little marshamllows (they clog up a filter real good) and my breakfast, which was a Cerro Baul of Fruit Loops and chicha from the keg (no milk, that was used up on the slippity slid in the hall way).
I wonder if a thousand years from now anyone will dig up Gary's house on Regal Ave in Hayward and spend millions studying the ceremonial aspects of senior year?

Beerbeerbeerbeer, beerbeerbeer, beerbeerbeerbeer, mmmmbeer...

Crime and punishment IV

2004-08-01T03:27:00.000-07:00

Making Amends for Spitting
Fri Jul 30,10:05 AM ET
ZURICH (Reuters) - Switzerland striker Alexander Frei has apologized for spitting during Euro 2004 ... Frei was found guilty of spitting at England midfielder Steven Gerrard in the 3-0 defeat in Portugal in June after he initially denied the offence...Frei, who plays his club soccer for Stade Rennes in France, was initially cleared after an investigation but was handed a three-match ban when new television evidence was presented.

3 game ban for spitting. I had lunch with a guy last week who spit so much when he talked he should get the death penalty.

Driver Beaten Up for Observing Speed Limit
Fri Jul 30,10:07 AM ET
BERLIN (Reuters) - A German truck driver beat up a motorist he believed was driving too slowly...Police in the western town of Bochum said the truck driver told them he felt provoked by the motorist "because he was actually driving 30 kph in a 30 kph area."

In a related story, the Boca Raton chapter of AARP to provide free Jujitsu lessons.

Dentist Pleads Guilty in Naked Cycle Ride
Fri Jul 30, 4:05 PM ET
NANTICOKE, Pa. - A helmet would be nice, but police here said clothes would be a good start when riding a motorcycle.

A local dentist pleaded guilty to a summary charge of disorderly conduct for driving a motorcycle with a naked woman on the back. The woman faces more serious charges.
Dr. Joseph P. Gronka, 39, of Scott Township, was pulled over June 12 when police noticed Lisa Drozdowski, 39, of Nanticoke, riding naked on the back of his motorcycle. Since then, Gronka has paid court costs and fines totaling $277.50.
Gronka declined comment.
Police said Drozdowski was belligerent when she was taken into custody and threw a small pipe into her cell toilet, then kicked an officer who tried to prevent her from flushing the toilet. She was charged with aggravated assault, simple assault, tampering with evidence, resisting arrest and open lewdness.

One question- where was the pipe?
That doc got his Gronka's in a vice.

Last and least-
Russell Simmons' Wife Faces Drug Charges
Fri Jul 30, 4:00 AM ET
Kimora Lee Simmons is seen in this July 26, 2004, photo released by the Saddle River, N.J., police department Thursday, July 29, 2004. Simmons, the wife of hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, faces drug and motor vehicle charges after police said she was driving erratically and ignored the flashing lights of a cruiser for nearly two miles. Simmons was arrested just after midnight Monday, July 26, 2004, outside the couple's estate in Saddle River, N.J., according to published reports. (AP Photo/Saddle River Police)

Not a funny story, but bottom picture gets my vote for best booking photo of the week.
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/ap/simmon_s_wife

Blogging 101

2004-08-01T02:04:00.000-07:00

The LFR http://lunaticfringereport.blogspot.com/ got me started- Wonderbread has a burning desire to express himself, and, as long as he can do so without visiting small children in a bath robe, I'm not only all for it, I've decided to join in.

Spending late nights traveling through this forum has proven to be quite informative-Visiting Blogonia- the political satire, the heartfelt reflections, interior decorator dogs jaytray.blogspot.com , have all been great reading. But My favorite feature of blogger is the profile.

I've tried clicking on my own profile points, which links me to other people with similar interests. Some things surprised me.

Take for instance the fact that only 8 people list Elmore Leonard in their book interests. Popular writer. Lot's of movies made of his books. He's funny and a good read. I would expect that number to be higher.

I know Tom Waits isn't the most widely listened to artist, and was pleasantly surprised to find so many bloggers list him.

Gilroy Ca has 6 bloggers, and, well, lets just say Santa Cruz looks like a good place to hang out now. (Oooh! Sassy!)

Posting pictures of yourself seems to be popular, but I haven't had time to test that out yet- but some of them are pretty good. There's the guy in San Francisco who looks bored silly, or maybe that's just ultra hip, I can't tell anymore.

Humor- Lots of links. I really liked the southern bell kissing the camera who likes both Staind and Donnie Osmond. This alone was worth the search.

I haven't read it all, but Mikey seems like a funny guy "About Me
My brother was born on January 7th, 1989. Twenty days after he was born my parents had sex with a broken condom and I was concieved and born nine months later."
http://mikeythelegend.blogspot.com/
That's all I read so far. I'll have to come back later to see how he turns out.

I don't know what this guy thinks, reads, or is passionate about- but ya' gotta love the photo- That's comedy.http://www.blogger.com/profile/586578

I feel like I'm looking through somebody's windows- hiding in the bushes late at night, peeking in.

Well, if they don't like it I guess they could close the curtains.

Corrections

2004-07-28T06:14:00.000-07:00

Having been following the Story of Lori Hacking, the missing woman from Utah, and her husbands, say, indiscretion, it gave me cause to reflect.

Mark Hacking is being put under the microscope for lying on his resume and to friends and family. I do not wish to speculate on his guilt, innocence, or involvement in his wife's disappearance. This is a horrible time for all involved. My thoughts and prayers are with the family.

I would like to, however, clear the air about myself in an effort to ward off any suspicion that may be cast upon me for any wrongdoing anytime, anywhere.

I would like to corect the following points on my resume':

I am not now nor have I ever been an astronaut
My given name is not Sylvia
No, the carpet does not match the drapes
I have never competed in the Kentucky Derby as either a runner or rider
Michael Jackson was employed as my nannie from 1973 to 75, not 74 to 76

Thank you.

bleachers II

2004-07-28T04:18:00.000-07:00

To truly enjoy the bleacher seat experience, you can't pay full price for anything that day.

As I said (uh blogged?) earlier, dad would haggle us all in and that's where we learned.

The summer between my 8th and 9th grade, the summer of 1980, my brother was entering his senior year in high school. He had injured his knee and was, for the most part, laid up for the summer. We had quite a routine set up-

We would get up at the crack of mid morning and wait for the mail man. We became pretty close to ... I think his name was "Hey mail guy" and developed quite a relationship with hey mail guy, or as his close friends knew him, hey.

After our mail bonding session ended, it was time to go-on a good day the A's were in town.

We would load up our mexican tuperware (the kind with "margarine" written on the side) with a pack of baloney and a pack of cheese, swipe a loaf of bread and a 2 liter of soda from the cabinet (swiping was necessary to the whole outlaw bleacher thing) and drive in his '70 vw super beetle with no brake lights up to Oakland.

Being passenger in his car required some skill- see, with no brake lights, he would drive, downshift and step on the brakes, I would pull the headlight knob so that the rear lights would turn on- thus avoiding a rear ender or being pulled over- never get cought by "the man" with hot baloney in your car. Then on to the BART parking lot and across the ramp to the ticket booth.

On regular days it would go like this- he would go in, then pretend to have something that needed to go back to the car, hand me the something ( a jacket, bag,...) through the gate and give me his torn stub- I would then go to the opposite side bleacher entrance, tell the ticket taker that I went in earlier, but forgot this stuff (whatever I was holding) in the car and "the guy that was here before said go ahead and get it- just save your ticket stub". Then I would go in and meet him at the food stand.

On Wednesdays and most Mondays this wasn't necessary- those were half price Family Night or Business Man's Afternoon Specials- half price days wen you could get in the park for a dollar- a dollar we swiped from mom's purse.

After loading up on concession stand relish, onions, mustard and stuff, our baloney and cheese sandwiches were now a foot high, looked and tasted better than anything else in the park, and we would go to our bench.

See, even though the Bleachers were general admission, we had our bench. Low down on the left field side- Henderson territory. Seats we sat in all summer. Early in the season, my brother used an el marko and wrote our names on our bleacher- we sat there every game.

I remember one game where, when we arrived, two really old guys- had to be 23, 24 at least, were sitting in our seats. My brother hobbled down on his bum leg and tapped one of the guys on the shoulder with his crutch and said, "hey, your in our seats". The guy just looked at us, shaking his head (the bleachers were for the most part empty in those days) and said "I don't see your name on it". I was sure we were going to get the crap beat out of us, but my brother told the guy to stand up and look at his seat- sure enough, there were our names. Both guys just laughed, got up and said "here ya go". Then, while eyeing the big Dagwoods we were holding, traded us 2 sandwiches for a couple of colossal dogs. And a beer. Not bad for a 13 and 16 year old.

Those years of baseball were the best. I know, not very kosher- empty seats, pitchers that would throw till their arms fell off, stealing bases for no good reason, Billy nose to nose with the umps- but it was the most exciting baseball ever.

This was Billy Ball.

This was the summer of '80.

Bleacher bum

2004-07-28T02:42:00.000-07:00

Watching Eckersley being inducted into the Hall last weekend, then reading the LFR(http://lunaticfringereport.blogspot.com/) got me thinking.

I consider myself a baseball fan. Not a fan of stats, I don't know any. Not a fan of players, although I have some favorites, and, even though I have always enjoyed the A's, I don't even think of myself as an “A's fan"- I just love the feel.

I love the feel of baseball. The excitement you feel walking into the stadium- the glare of the sun or the bright lights- the color of the grass (and it must be grass) looking so thick and rich.

The smells and sounds of the game.

But most of all, I love the bleachers. I am convinced that, aside from a bar to lean against, wood was invented for bleachers.

As a kid, I was a bleacher rat. My dad would get free tickets to the Coliseum from work, but usually only 2, or sometimes 4 reserved seats- not enough for a family of 7, not counting the always present 3 or 4 neighbor kids who tagged along.

But that didn’t bother dad- he would pile a dozen or so of us into the battleship of a station wagon that we had and we would head up the freeway between Hayward and Oakland.

When we got there, we would all march up to the bleacher gate, dad holding the few freebie tickets out to the ticket taker, and, looking over to our sad, pitiful faces, plead “help a guy out?” He would then proceed to trade the few reserved tickets for us to all sit in the bleachers.

The ticket takers would always make a fuss about silly rules and regulations, but I always got the feeling that they enjoyed letting us in as much as we enjoyed them doing so.

We were never turned down. Not once.

Once in side it was perfect- sun, green grass, and, years before Crazy George arrived on the scene, there was my dad pounding away on a leather covered wooden drum so loud we would all laugh and pretend it was embarrassing us- until he stopped-then we would beg him to do it again.

Sitting in the bleachers back then was as close as you could get to the field. The home run fence was the first row. We would get there early and catch batting practice homers and, once or twice, get a real game homer ball.

Heckling the opposing outfielders loud enough to get a reaction- at various times we were ignored, cussed at, or flipped off- what more can you ask for? They knew you were there.

The best was getting a wave or nod, or even better, a ball tossed at you from Reggie or Billy North, or later, the best outfield ever of Henderson, Armas & Murphy.

Baseball was, and always will be, about sitting on a wooden bench with you dad.

Crime and punishment III

2004-07-25T03:45:00.000-07:00

This just in-
Swindling great-granny busted
Sat Jul 24, 6:32 AM ET
ROME (Reuters) - Italian police have arrested an 80-year-old great-grandmother suspected of drugging and robbing easily fooled victims for years to feed her gambling habit. Vittoria Benetti was detained after her last victim, a 70-year-old woman travelling in the same train compartment, identified her in a photo.

my kinda lady-what do you use to drug a 70 rear old? Salt?

Skunk Gel Repels Drug Users, Prostitutes
Sat Jul 24, 9:14 PM ET
COLUMBIA, S.C. - Drug users and prostitutes are turning up their noses at the condemned buildings they once frequented in Richland County. Deputies here have begun using a chemical spray that makes the places smell like a skunk has come calling.

In a related story- no drug users or prostitutes reported to be in my bathroom.

house hunt

2004-07-25T02:54:00.000-07:00

My search for a home continues- I met a guy the other day who happens to be a real estate agent in the San Jose area- good guy, interesting to talk to. We talked about homes, the cost of, the best way to purchase, things like that.

He asked me where I was looking and why. I proceeded to share my dream of home and business ownership, the idea of Pop's Cafe and what I would like to accomplish. Al, short for Albazhulahkhalisomethingorother liked the idea. He too, it seems, is interested in starting his own business- he currently owns a few houses as rentals, but in the big picture, he sees himself owning either apartment complexes or commercial property to rent out and, here's where we bonded- to start his own restaurant.

He has an interesting concept and since I'm the only one reading this, I'm confident that I'm not giving away any secrets: Fast food Indian restaurant called "Curry in a Hurry" featuring Tandori on a stick, nan bread, things like that- With the middle eastern population growth in CA and the diverse food tastes in the bay area, I think he's got a winner.

Alkohalibxsjiashooke has a theory: with the growing population of middle easterners in the bay area over the past 15 or so years, he feels as though the way to nail down the coming real estate trends, the next big market, is to follow the migration of this culture. 20 years ago, influx to the bay area- property costs skyrocket. 15 years ago- south bay boom resulting in rising population of middle eastern immigrant high-tech engineers- south bay real estate boom.

Alshobqaxkighkhan convinced me- in order to really maximize my purchasing power, get the most for my money, I need to concentrate on areas that have a strong middle eastern population.

I have narrowed the search to the following locations:
http://www.mapsofindia.com/maps/rajasthan/roads/bharatpur.htm
Bharatpur, Rajasthan, India- great area for garlic and ginger- I hear that on the southwest corner of Pupta Lane and Gandhi Way there's an old Bhab's Bhigh Boy for sale-

http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/middle_east_and_asia/karkuk_2003.jpg
Karkuk (Kirkuk), Iraq- This one worries me a little- in that if the folks that live there can't decide how to spell the place, how will they ever decide between a hamburger or a cheese burger. But the rents cheap and the helmets are free.

http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/world_cities/abu_dhabi.jpg
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates- I've heard wild stories of the night life here. They have a TGIFriday's that goes crazy during spring break. I think this may be the one. Besides, wouldn't it be great when someone asks where you live to say "Abu Dhabi" really fast? Try it- 3 times really fast- AbuDhabiAbuDhabiAbuDhabi I can see it now- Pop's AbuDhabi Cafe- your drakma's no good here!

People Person

2004-07-21T05:27:00.000-07:00

I Like to think of myself as a people person- I like to sit and watch or talk to folks- bars are a good place for this. Not always funny, not always sad, but more often than not, interesting.

I met a woman the other day, an attractive girl of about 24 or 25. She told me a story about her boyfriend- live in relationship guy.

He's quite a bit older than her- late 40's I think- He was married once before. Here's where the interesting comes in- he's no longer married because he murdered his wife- by accident.

It turns out after an argument, he became depressed and attempted suicide.
With a shotgun.
And missed.
And hit his wife.
Twice.

She knew this before they hooked up and yet, the relationship has worked out nicely.

See, I don't think he'll try anything with her. She got mad at him a few months ago. And stabbed him with a screw driver. I think it was a flat head.

Interesting.

Crime and Punishment revisited

2004-07-21T01:48:00.000-07:00

It appears as thought the "Get Soft On Crime" movement is dead before it learned to walk:

Tue Jul 20,12:08 PM ET
PRAGUE (Reuters) - A Czech police officer took a police campaign to cut traffic accidents a little too far when he shot at a pedestrian who crossed a road on a red light.

Although it could have been worse- had the officer in question been assigned to patrol the below mentioned street:

Tue Jul 20, 8:43 AM ET
BEAUMONT, Texas (Reuters) - A decade-long fight over a quiet country lane called "Jap Road" ended on Monday when local officials voted to change the racially charged name ...
The four-mile road has been around about 100 years and was said to be named in honor of Yoshio Mayumi and his family, who introduced the region to rice farming.

"man shot to death, karate chopped to pieces, then stir fried while jay walking on Jap Road this morning..."

This story caused me to consider what I can do to help out my Gilroy neighborhood. I would like to propose the following new street names:

Pedro Street: Named after one Jorge' Gomez, who, on this spot in 1986, stole a 67 Buick, but was later apprehended while entering the Home Depot parking lot in search of employment.

Portagee Place: Birth place of Herman Furtado, who gained regional fame during the harvest season of 1958 for consuming 493 apricots in one sitting. Furtado hopes to attend the dedication ceremony next week if his bowels stop moving in time.

3 Teeth Trailer Park and Motor Court: A D-Lux housing developement- Strict home owners association rules and dress code. The mullet and tank top undershirt requirement strictly enforced.

A decade long debate?

Go Texas!! and take Mississippi with you.

It's snack Time!

2004-07-20T03:29:00.000-07:00

As I said earlier, I'm a big Tom Waits fan. A few years back, Frito Lay was sued by Waits because they used a sound alike singer, singing a parody of his song "Step Right Up" in a Salsa Rio chip ad- Frito's lost the case and I am happy to report that the company has found a new spokesman:

Mon Jul 19, 4:36 PM ET
MARYVILLE, Tenn. - A man was arrested on his 23rd birthday after a police officer saw him nude and covered with nacho cheese from a pool snack bar.

Michael P. Monn was arrested early Sunday in the parking lot outside the pool.

An officer saw a nude man carrying a box of Frito Lay snacks and a container of nacho cheese run toward a Jeep in the lot and stopped him.

"The male had nacho cheese in his hair, on his face and on his shoulders," Maryville Police Department officer Scott Spicer reported. "The nude male had a strong odor of alcohol and was semi-incoherent

Crime and punishment

2004-07-20T03:04:00.000-07:00

I'll admit I have had my problems in the past- I have at times enjoyed the baloney samiches of the county lunchroom, and like most involuntary guests, I felt that the punishment did not fit the crime.

I am happy to report that the judicial system is finally coming around.
BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) -Mon Jul 19,10:13 AM ET
In an experimental public education campaign, motorcycle drivers who break the rules are being pulled over and asked to play hopscotch on a mat displaying traffic signs.
Medellin, Colombia's third-largest city, is notoriously violent and traffic-clogged. "Sicarios" -- infamous hitmen normally on the payroll of drug lords -- normally use motorcycles as escape vehicles after carrying an attack.
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=573&ncid=757&e=6&u=/nm/20040719/od_nm/odd_colombia_motorcycles_dc

Imagine the possibilities:
DUI? - Jax for Jack Daniels. Pull up a chair and go for twosees
Armed Robbery? - Paper-rock-scissors-gun- Extended index finger beats everything
Rape? - Spin the bottle
Kidnapping: - Hide and seek and ransom.

Prison will now be called Camp Kumawneyewannarapya

Crafts day will include "How to make a shiv out of an empty cigarette pack", "Pruno- the lost art of waste basket distillery" and don't forget "Your anus: what can it carry?"

Everyone looks forward to the movie night double feature "American Me" & "The Shawshank Redemption" along with two "Rocky the dope smuggling ferret" cartoons.

See ya there!

Last call

2004-07-19T01:39:00.000-07:00

I've been a fan of singer/song writer Tom Waits for years- something about his gravelly sand paper voice and even grittier lyrics brought to mind smoky bars and old juke boxes- rundown hangouts- beer and a bump joints, not the shiny, strip mall bars with cowbells and train whistles-these places give me a worse headache than too much Bushmills.

I hung out for years in a place on the corner of Turk and Taylor in the city that was lifted right out of a Waits song- 21 club- my favorite bar in the bay area.

Frank, the owner has been a friend for years- since my first visit back in '83 or so-makes the strongest drinks in town- I lived in the e-bay most of my life, and worked in S.F. off and on over the years, so visits used to be pretty frequent.

This its the type of place that, if you are blessed to be wearing 2 shoes and still have control over most of your bodily functions, you're one up on most of the customers. But, instead of feeling sad, or even fearful of the other patrons, whenever I go into the place, I, oddly enough, get a warm, welcome feeling.

It's as if Frank is a guardian to the regulars- he looks out for them when it life pushed some of them to the curb. He becomes father, mother, nurse and rabbi.

Every so often I would take a buddy in on his first 21 club experience- always an interesting experience. The first reaction is usually reluctance- reluctance to enter- reluctance to drink- reluctance to make eye contact- reluctance to use the can. But without fail, the lasting impression is always the same- "Wow- what an interesting place".

Interesting- that's what it is-

If you are a Wait's fan, I think you would like this place- If you don't know Wait's and his words, take a listen to "Downtown", "$29.00" or "Small Change"- or better yet- the whole "Heart Attack and Vine" album- you'll get the idea of what Frank's 21 Club is all about.

Go to Turk and Taylor, come on in, say hey to frank, and beware of the 7 &7's- or as I call them, the 12 & 2's.

If none of this makes sense to you, well, have fun at Applebees.

Goals

2004-07-18T02:43:00.000-07:00

I've never been very organized, but recently I've been making a real effort to set and achieve goals. Making lists and sticking to them.

Just today I finished everything on my "to do" list- At the end of the day, it provided me with an incredible sense of accomplishment- until I realized I forgot to put pants on. Then I had to revise my list.

In the past few months, I have been working towards the biggest goal I've ever presented myself with- I am planning on purchasing a home. Unfortunately, I don't think that this will be possible in the greater bay area, or maybe even in California.

I have recently started looking out of state- Arizona, Texas, and Oklahoma have become the front-runners.

In my search, a surprising and welcome opportunity has presented itself- for less than the price of a lower end home in California, I could purchase a home and a business property elsewhere.

This is opening my eyes to the fact that it may be possible to fulfill one of my lifelong dreams- to open my own restaurant.

Nothing fancy, a small bar/grill place. Somewhere to relax and get a good meal. Somewhere where I could hold court behind the bar and tell my friends "your money is no good here"- well for the first couple of rounds anyway.

I'm no stranger to bars or restaurants, but only as customer and part time employee- but it's something I've always wanted to do. A dream that now is a goal.

Even as a youngster, I had a feeling that this was something I would like to do- when we would go out as a family, I always liked to watch the staff at coffee shops, the waitresses, the cooks, all the hustle and bustle. I thought it would be great to be the manager, walking around, asking the customers if everything was all right, do you need anything?

Occasionally, we would go to a place that had a waiting area or lounge, where as kids we would get to see inside of a real life bar- that's when I was in heaven- a dimly lit room, people laughing, and I new that was for me.

I know the odds are against opening a place, but I've been extremely fortunate over the years of being able to really enjoy my professions- and one of the best was my years behind the bar. One of my favorite hobbies is spending time behind the grill- I feel this is something I have to try-

Until I reach it- this is my place. Pop's Cafe- pull up a stool.

Intro

2004-07-18T02:08:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anyone will actually read, care about, or find any enjoyment in what festers in my head, but the process of working out the sludge between my ears and taking the time to type it out and formulate sentences may, I hope, help me to think a little clearer, and, in turn, allow me to be a better communicator.

In an age when e-mails and quick cell calls have all but replaced actual sit-down conversation and the lost art of letter writing, I feel as though I am slowly losing the ability to communicate with others in a meaningful way.

I know that some may view this format as a contributor to that problem, but I hope to use this space as a sort of first draft, or electronic index card to help me formulate thought and, hopefully, allow me to better communicate with others.