The Near-Naked Drink Lady

I guess it is a matter of taste…

I guess it is a matter of conditioning…

I guess it is a matter for Madison Avenue Execs to debate then promote…

I guess it is a matter of confusing a tit for a tap…

I guess it is a matter of thirst…

I guess it is a matter of mixing primal drives together…

That’s why I always order a refreshment from a near-naked drink lady…

Antiques, Classics and Old Farts

Keep it well preserved, in it’s original box, out of the reach of the children, in the closet on the top shelf, or in a locked trunk in the attic, or in the garage dust covered or highly vitamin-ed and organically inclined and you have a precious object, a classic automobile or an ancestor.

Recently, my camera walked two venues: Antiques and restorations on Harrison Street and the Concours d’Elegance on a grassy field in elite Marin.  Beauties everywhere.  The camera lens shuttered.  The images recorded.  The well designed past alive again for a moment.  It paid to have money then and it pays to have $$$ now.

The glories of the old world revealed, Sun King treasures, Detroit’s halcyon days revisited, RR’s everywhere…what a false picture presented to the starved for possessions and wealth.

My Nikon is still kvelling at the sight of such a rich display owned or to be owned by the idol rich.

No! It can’t be! A Lebanese-American Miss USA!

Good looks, an incredible personality, totally photogenic, but…

She’s part Moslem and part Catholic.  I wonder which part is which?  Anyway, it really doesn’t matter.  She is easy to like, easy to look at and easy to vote for.

Rima Fakih beat the girl from Oklahoma for top place on the podium in Trump’s beauty pageant.  Perhaps now the tea baggers will begin drinking Turkish coffee.

And no, Rima’s wardrobe, including that leopard skin bikini, was NOT provided by the fashion experts at the House of Hamas or by the Parisian branch of Hezbolah, Inc.

Good luck, Rima, you are now my ambassador!

Viagra Falls

(If this posting gives you an erection that lasts more than four hours, see a doctor and be sure to thank me via e-mail.)

Typos.  A fat finger.  A slip of the pen.  Letters juxtaposed.  Misspellings.  A missing word.  An incomplete word.  These things used to lower our grades.  So, Viagra instead of Niagrara is a logical example of… you better double check your spelling…or, you better call your editor.

Anyway, here’s Marilyn in a number of sultry and provocative poses.  Oh how I remember that calendar that turned my early years into a fever.

Water World

Little fishes we…emerging as we do from a watery world.  Thru the birth canal we swim, wiggle and struggle…reaching for first breath.

Is that why this sun sign is a water person?  I’m addicted to the shore…not the water per se, the beach or boardwalk, the pier or jetty will do.  And a sailboat cruise, hell, even a powerboat ride on the Bay is great summertime duty.

There’s something about the clean, the fresh and the negative ions.   (Not to mentioned how cutting corners oil slicked up the Gulf of Mexico!)  Way to devastate Creole life!  Poor little crayfish!  He did it…no, he did it…no, he did it!  Under one or all of those oil-engineering nuts there is a pea!

I have ocean out my windows twice a day – at high tide.  I have two rusting lawn chairs that I use at high tide.  I have Canadian Geese goslings at high tide.  I have ease and comfort and the good sense at high tide. 

The mountain just sits there, rising an inch or two a year.  But the ocean…the ocean is mysterious, dangerous, restless, seductive.  The ocean is perpetual motion…my life is not.  It is what I cannot be.   Infinite.

He’s Risen!

He’s overcome his anxieties.  He’s elevated his performance.  He’s attained great heights.

He’s heads above the others.  He’s walking on sunshine.  He’s high as a kite.  He’s ascended into the ranks of stardom.  He’s climbed the ladder of success.  He’s a super star.  He’s lifted himself out of poverty.

He’s flying solo.  He’s assaulted Everest.  He’s on cloud nine.  He’s rocketed thru the ranks.  He’s a luftmench.  He’s on the rise. 

Up, Up and Away.  Up in the air, junior birdmen…

Thinking in black and white

It’s my way or the highway.  I am right and your opinion doesn’t matter.  There’s only one correct answer.  You are entitled to your own opinions but not to your own facts.  Just do it.  Follow orders.  It’s the way we have always done it.  Tradition, precedent and custom dictate that…  It’s written in the book.  It’s god’s will.  The Pope is infallible.  If you cartoon Mohammad, we will kill you.  Obey the rules.  Talking points accepted. 

Or, pack up your personal items and the guards will escort you out of the building.

What about all those shades of gray?

Sometimes the operative word is “wired” and sometimes it’s “weird”

Lately, I have made several weird images.  They seem to defy logic, the rules and the usual sensibilities.

There are no explanations…it’s just that sometimes the weird is weird or the weird is interesting or the weird is aesthetically pleasing.  You be the judge.  I’m outta here!

Way too weird…

A Fisher of Men

Trolling for the unsuspecting…easy fish to fry…just bait the hook…a land shark…just cast your net…falling for a scheme hook, line and sinker…swimming up stream…let out the line and reel him in…that’s a fish story…mine is bigger than yours.

Music To My Ears

When the camera shutter clicks.

When the Canadian Geese chicks cluck.

When I hear: “You may walk about the cabin.”

When I hear: “Grampa Jer!”

When someone says: “Are your available for a service tomorrow?”

When she says: “Hi honey!”

When I hear the dinner bell.

When I hear the recorded message say: “Your group is not needed for jury duty.”

When Glenn Beck reveals the message behind the meaning behind nothing at all.

When Kobe fouls out.

When Frank Rich writes.

When Palin reads palms.

When the bugler calls the horses from the paddock.

When I hear: “I love you, Dad.”