Skip to main content

Giving Fleas A Bad Name

Last weekend I went to a flea market here that is very big and very global. Everything was for sale and at one time I thought the only things I didn't see were jock straps and bras. But before the journey ended, even those things could be had at one of the tables. New stuff, used stuff, cars, scooters, food, purses, and more purses. DVD's, African artwork, rugs, blankets, bangles, baubles, beads, candles, incense, you name it. If it could be moved, transported or hauled, it was for sale. I almost bought a billfold for $10.00 but resisted. What I couldn't resist was the Apple Cinnamon bread. And nationalities! Every language, every ethnicity, every age, every kind of person. Just people watching was worth the $1.00 to get in.





These are just two of the giant halls and walkways at the flea market. Hundreds of people, hundreds of vendors. Scores of various languages and ethnicities.


My one disappointment was in not making a movie of this booth. The wings on these guys moved back and forth and in the background there are lighted wheels with water moving around the statues. It looked like giant psychedelic butterflies in Oz.


These enterprising gentlemen were selling a smokeless cigarette. One in the foreground is even puffing on one. Below is the flier of these gems. Seems they are electrical and you can recharge them in your Ipod, computer, laptop or wall socket. They give you a nicotine rush without the smoke, so you can puff in motels and public places without fear of breaking any local ordinances. You can ever buy a liquid that you pour in somewhere to change the flavor. The tip even has a red LCD light. But be prepared to pay, it is expensive. They will be glad to accept Visa, MasterCard and Discover.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week.  Except for me.  I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers.  These pics need no words.  Why muddy the waters?   They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley.  The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter.  If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one.  But, please, no more.   

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant