Follow by Email

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Phototoons, or how Demolition Derby at the Ray County Fair pounded its way into the national debate over the 99 percent vs. the 1 percent

I can't draw a lick, but have always wished I could've been a cartoonist. In fact, I have an envelope of cartoon punch lines stored away somewhere waiting for the illustration fairy to show up at my door. I'm hoping I'm onto something here ... using my photos as a way to express some of my more picturesque ideas. 

The Sub-Boonies, the working title for these phototoons, is a reference to places I go to get away from civilization -- the sub-boonies are to the boonies as the suburbs are to cities. No disrespect is intended, but if Richmond, Mo., population 5,900 or so, could be considered the boonies, a five- or 10-minute drive in any direction takes me to the sub-boonies and natural bliss. 

Let me know if you like the idea of phototoons. I may do some more. There's that one about a dusty cowboy who comes into town looking for that hombre Jack Shit. An old-timer tells him he knows a Johny Shit who lives up the ways a piece and then there's old Eustis Shit used to live out by the fork in the road ... "But I don't know nothin' about no Jack Shit," he says.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Words Say the Darndest Things: Roy and Dale Waiting to Pull the Trigger

Roy and Dale suddenly found themselves fenced in and left out in the rain to rust, with nothing but each other and some hackneyed rope tricks.

Click below why don't ya

Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Wonder Boy and his Dear Dad watch Clint Dempsey score against Chelsea and enjoy a warm beverage at a cheeky coffee shop in the Tower Grove section of St. Louis

We drove to St. Louis Christmas week to meet Isaac's sister Sarah, who came up from Nashville with her boyfriend Matt with their lovable canines, Charlie and Frankie (both Richmond, Mo. alums). While we were there we had refillable soft drinks at Amsterdam Tavern in the Tower Grove section. It's a soccer bar and we got to watch my beloved Fulham tie Chelsea 1-1 on a goal by American Clint Dempsey. While we were there, I imposed on Isaac to have his picture taken with my Sporting KC stocking cap. Oddly enough, the cap was embroidered north of Rayville.
When we left the bar, we spotted this cat spotting us. It ended in a spot-down.
But not before Isaac reciprocated with a photo of the man with the tweedy pub hat. Very football-like, indeed, ain't it mate?
Working in rural America and living in a rather conservative suburb, I sometimes forget there are other points of view. We saw this photo of President Obama with the flag, and you know what, it felt good to see that someone still likes him.
We walked at least a mile from the soccer bar to this coffee shop while the "women folks" continued their shopping-mall adventure. I had a delicious frothy cappuccino (and later a cup of vegetarian vegetable soup), while Isaac went with the hot chocolate and fried potatoes. At least we could tell his mother he had a vegetable. The bumper stickers and decals behind the counter were hilarious, also expressing a more liberal urban slant than I typically encounter in the country. I suppose my favorite sentiment was "Don't pray in my school and I won't think in your church". Snap! Political preferences aside, we can all relate this one: "My country invaded Iraq and all I got was this expensive gas." Fortunately, neither Isaac nor I got gas from our little Boys Bonding outing.
Let's just say Isaac indulged my proclivity for snapping photos everywhere, in public or not. Hey, I'm a photographer, right? I think I'm invisible. He knows I'm not, at least not yet.


You gotta hand it to the lad, he's a funny one. He'd have to be, though, wouldn't he?

I snapped a photo of this bar because of the name, Stella Blues. I own a Stella guitar, a parlor-size guitar that's often used to play the blues. I assume, but don't know, it's why the bar was named as it was. I can only imagine how crooked that sign post must look when people stagger out at 2 a.m. Sleep tight, muchachos and muchachas, and don't let the bed boogs bite.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Pigeons on the Square: They survive, rule the roost and get in some people watching

 You may remember a post a while back about the city of Richmond putting an end to a New Year's Day pigeon-shooting tradition on the square. That was back in the day, the day when newspapers didn't have color photos. That was quite a while ago in pigeon or human time.
  But frankly, it didn't take a municipal ordinance (or enforcement of the existing one against shooting guns in the city) to ensure the survival of these plump lid'l pluckers.
  They were deemed a nuisance back then, but when it comes to minor annoyances maybe acceptance is the golden road to happiness. The pigeons weren't going anywhere no matter what we humans tried, and this puffy fellow and his comrades are about the only residents left on the square, human, commercial or otherwise.
   I saw this one sticking his head in and out of a broken window pane in the old bank building on the corner of Main and Thornton. He'd pop out, I'd take a picture, and then he'd duck back in.
  He could've been a she; maybe there was a nest inside. I have no idea what the nesting/hatching arrangements are in the pigeon world, and for all I know it's the male who sits on the eggs. Or maybe there were other shenanigans going on inside. I could've sworn I saw feathers flying.
  Whatever the case, this pidge seemed to like watching the traffic and other happenings around the square. Maybe he wanted to make sure he didn't miss the next parade or veterans' program; or maybe he was keeping tabs on other members of Richmond's survivalist pigeon community. Whatever the case, I was rewarded with a photo for being patient. So hang in there big fellow. Mushroom Festival's just five months away.