Funkytown

Just tooling around that funky little town of Frederick, MD.  Aside from the fact that they cannot move on from the civil war and are lousy with sites/memorabilia, I have noticed some oddities that do not exist back home. Firstly, It has numerous off-street shops that seem to thrive, despite the presence of outlets and super stores and that not a whole lot of folks are goin' in 'em.  I saw an alteration store that had gone out of business in one place and re-opened up a few doors down across the street.  This is a stark contrast to Charleston, which aside from Capital ST. is lousy with empty buildings.  Also the place is clean. I mean, even the bums are clean.  They all have bikes and just park them on by a bench and catch a few Zzzs. Anyway, it seems like a groovy place to live, you can walk to anything, and even live above or near your business and survive.  I am perplexed as to how they have gotten this right and so many other places have not. See Cumberland, MD

Littlepeople

No sir, not the PC name for those of short stature. But rather the appendage-less little wooden and plastic people that occupied so much play time from my youth. Due to the proximity gods I have occasion several days a month to visit my mother's. While there last weekend I came upon some those Fisher price toys and was overcome with a wave of nostalgia. I have nothing brilliant to say about them except that they inspired imagination, were really well made, and were a hell of a lot of fun (having survived two generations and counting). These images are a mix of folks that include a pig from the farm set, a construction worker from a later set of my brother's, a dentist, a giraffe from a circus train, and Gordon-Bert-Grover from a Sesame Street set. The interiors are from the Little People Village.

Those 70's

One thing I have not done for a while is peruse my comic collection. While I recall an interest or pursuit of much it, there are quite a few oddities. Here is one. It is an issue of "The Prez: First Teen President". This could only have happened in the seventies. First, you have the youth culture, who know what is up far more than those stuffy "adults". You have the relaxed dress code of executive office which consists of a logo on a turtle neck and bell-bottoms. The most telling, perhaps, is his cabinet which consists of various nature creatures, an indian, and a monkey. Just weird wild stuff from the dark realms of my youth. Oh, and the bad guys are Russians who seek to overtake us in some sort of chess match. Enjoy.

Stumped

Here I am with limited connectivity and trying to update my blog and I have absolutely nothing to say. I was going to discuss local hippie woman's enormous breasts that she refuses to confine within a bra. She also walks rapidly and while they must (surely) obey the same laws of gravity that we all do-those bazongas are all over the map. Like waste basket bags half full of water being spun in opposite directions. What do I have to say about it? Nothing. Yay boobs. Now, and this is the point-When I logged into Yahoo I was captivated by the headline "Traffic Barrell Monster Leads to Arrest". I don't want to read the article. I don't need to. That bit of information alone is so pregnant with possibility that I don't want to spoil it with "facts".

Travels

This looks to be a summer of travels to see friends and loved ones. So those experiences will dominate the blog for a bit. OK, enough of that shit and on to the important matter at hand. I am talking about chicken fucking. No, not the run-of-the-mill chicken fucking that we all engage in from time to time. But real chicken on chicken action.
At my good friend Lou's in PA I had a rare (for me) opportunity to observe chicken behavior and found out some stuff I did not know. Firstly, chickens will eat just about anything and were in fact enjoying a porkchop as I arrived. Also, there exists a definite heirarchy that all of these creatures observe. There is the main alpha rooster who struts around routinely handing out beatdowns to keep those other bastards in line. They all sleep in the same spots everynight, where said rooster gets the place of honor. Also, and this is why I bothered, He fucks whoever he wants, when he wants. I have nver had occasion to view chickens fucking up close but the phrase "fast and furious" comes to mind. Presumably the other, smaller rooster has to get in sloppy seconds wherever he can, much like this author. Here is the poultry porno so be sure to wash your hands later.

New Stuff

This is my blog. Blogging is new to me but so is everything else this summer. It is merely a digital document of a brief period of time and a way to interact with three, maybe four other folks in a different kind of way. Now I am just rambling to myself so....