Tuesday Tidbits

Yeah, we've got too many guns.

(Apparently my gif here isn't working anymore.  It was a cartoon clip from the 20's that showed a mouse pulling out a gun and shooting at a cat.  Oh well, what's a first-day-back without a glitch.)

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Back from vacation and it was one of the better ones.  The perennial hosts (Mr. and Mrs. Wombie) still act like they don't mind the Guest-Who-Never-Leaves and even gave me hugs at the airport..oh wait...well, they are gracious hosts.

We took advantage of dark skies and have lots of pics of night photography, went to two car shows with The Frump, had 2 Whitey's (and if you don't know then shame, shame, shame, saw two folks I worked with at MDH (one in a nursing home), rode the bike till Monkey Butt went away, went through two houses to possibly buy, had a cider donut, and had great eats and cold beer.

But now I am back in the hot embrace of Kitschland.  All good things come to an end.

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Random things I thought about whilst riding the bike:

How much I enjoyed getting the Weekly Reader, the Sporting News and the National Geographic when I was a kid.

How chickens, cows and pigs seldom die of old age.

How different the world looks from atop a motorcycle.

Life is short.  Do it now.

Slow up, Mike.  Take the time to get that picture. Take the time, period.

Politics just doesn't seem important when you are riding. 

I must plan to be more spontaneous.  

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I want to learn how to dance like the Russians.  Its so goddamn gnarly.

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As told to me by the Wombie: there was a drunk guy in Emerald City years ago and he was in a local bar watching the Kentucky Derby.  After the race they replayed it several times and he looked over at the guy next to him and said, "They're gonna run that horse to death."  

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    I watched Woodstock on Netflix a couple days ago.  Fascinating doc, you should see it.

Interesting aspects:

It was originally supposed to be in Woodstock, N.Y.  But the village board voted it down, and it was held in Bethel, N.Y. instead.  It still retained the moniker Woodstock, however.

When food ran out on the second day, Bethel townsfolk emptied their cupboards to feed all the kids.

The Hog Farm commune that signed on to help with security also helped people come down from highs and then made those folks help the next batch come down from theirs.  It was an early pay-it-forward system.  

Groovy.

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I sat next to an older black gentleman on the flight back to Florida.  I always carry Icebreaker mints with me and offered them to him twice.  He accepted both times.  But never said a word.


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When I arrived at my perennial hosts home, I noticed this new structure and figured Mr. and Mrs. Wombie were building a room for me.  Alas, it is a screened in porch for them.

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The best notes written in manuscripts by medieval monks

Colophon: a statement at the end of a book containing the scribe or owner’s name, date of completion, or bitching about how hard it is to write a book in the dark ages

• Oh, my hand
• The parchment is very hairy
• Thank God it will soon be dark
• St. Patrick of Armagh, deliver me from writing
• Now I’ve written the whole thing; for Christ’s sake give me a drink
• Oh d fuckin abbot
• Massive hangover
• Whoever translated these Gospels did a very poor job
• Cursed be the pesty cat that urinated over this book during the night
• If someone else would like such a handsome book, come and look me up in Paris, across from the Notre Dame cathedral
• I shall remember, O Christ, that I am writing of Thee, because I am wrecked today
• Do not reproach me concerning the letters, the ink is bad and the parchment scanty and the day is dark
• 11 golden letters, 8 shilling each; 700 letters with double shafts, 7 shilling for each hundred; and 35 quires of text, each 16 leaves, at 3 shilling each. For such an amount I won’t write again
• Here ends the second part of the title work of Brother Thomas Aquinas of the Dominican Order; very long, very verbose; and very tedious for the scribe; thank God, thank God, and again thank God
• If anyone take away this book, let him die the death, let him be fried in a pan; let the falling sickness and fever seize him; let him be broken on the wheel, and hanged. Amen

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Now that I am back in Kitschland without any discernible purpose I am writing a book. 

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My first adventure back in Northlandia was a car show in Bushnell.  I wanted to go because it is a judged show (last in the area), it is a great setting in the park, and I wanted to give Ron Harn's widow a picture of him I took a few years ago.

The Frump

This is Cec, a buddy I worked with at Blick.  I was in the shipping area and he was in the warehouse, right next door.  Nice guy.  It was great to see him again.

Richard from Burgess came with me in his '85 Caddy.  

Naturally I had to look for cicada shells for the girls in Florida.  This one left its shell and was busy getting ready to live.

Richard's Cadillac.

Richard grabbing the hardware for his car while I went home empty handed.  It was a great day.  Nice to be back and showing The Frump is always fun.

Woo-hoo, I'm home (up North) and I have three weeks filled with most days already spoken for.

Bummer, I'm back in Florida, with nothin' to do.  Like the guy said, get busy livin' or get busy dyin'.  Hmmm.  What to do, what to do?.