Who SAYS there's no such thing as progress?

 

  Can't touch this.

  Ignatius J. Reilly would be so happy.

Update:  Mere mortals who don't grasp the connections between MC Hammer, Ignatius J. Reilly, his angst over the theology and geometry of American culture in "Confederacy of Dunces" and My Humps?

  All I can tell you is: Big Girls Don't Cry.

Slap (chimp) leather! You cowards!

  Disarm and rely on 911?  No problem.  Just be patient.  Use a knife.  Be patient, dang it, they are on the way!  Didn't I ask you to try and be patient?  Or use reason!  Separate yourself from the animals!

 Daley helpfully speaks up.  When they said "Chimp" and "President" I thought they were talking about Bushy McChimpyhitler.  AG Holder says we're all cowards anyway.  

  Real men would have tazed him or done a little boxing.  Why didn't they get a protective order instead?

  For someone armed with only a butcher knife, she sure wanted someone with a gun to shoot that distressed chimp.

  I blame Chimpy McBushitler.

Moral:  If you are going to have a chimp, don't just have a chimp and a knife.  Have a chimp and a knife and a gun.

Update: WWTD?

Update II:  Heckfire!  I completely forgot about Curious George.  Important not to make fun of the President.

Professional Photography in America Today.

  The fast-paced rock 'em-sock 'em professional photo life forged ahead today.  In fact, pretty early today.  I barely had time to grab a cup of coffee when Brady's opened at 7:00m and get to the shoot.  At 7:30 I was in the bowels of a large local institution to get images of a new computer system in action.  End user in Kentucky, local contact, many emails, confirmations, and cell phone messages flying around the ethersphere.  

  There is always a problem in a photo shoot.  You know it's there, you just don't know WHERE it's coming from.  Could be equipment.  Could be weather.  Could be drunk company reps.  Anything.  But it's going to be SOMETHING.  You just watch for it.

  Recently I was on a shoot for a new luxury hotel.  Ad agency in Washington state, designers in California.  Developers here.  The designer PDFed the layout featuring a verdant landscape flowing down to the waters edge.  I get out to the site and its a brushy, overgrown, mosquito-plagued dump with vehicles inexplicably shuttling to and from a deserted ruined playground.  The road in had become famous as un area de axion maxima for (get this) gay, illegal aliens.  Flamboyantly coiffed latios in flip-flops and tank tops standing around on the rubble, waving down the next car while swacking mosquitos.  Just to get over the curb you needed a shotgun, deep-woods OFF and a machete.

  I shot from the ground, water and air and never found a verdant view.

  Back to this morning- I'd questioned the contact like he was under indictment about WHO was going to be my model.  All I needed was one gloved hand but I pushed him like I was shooting poolside bathing suits.  This person had to LOOK professional.  No 305 lb nurses aides with aching feet that were going to be fired tomorrow.  I needed a squared-away representative of the professional work force.  He assured me that he had JUST the person.

  She looked appropirate-gowned, scrubbed and gloved- and all I needed was a fingertip.  Funny thing though, I couldn't seem to get that fingertip going.  I needed that fingertip to ACT!  Point here!  Touch there!  The glove was all bunched on it and I couldn't seem to describe the projection I wanted.  Finally I reached up to adjust it and show her what I needed......

  And she didn't have a finger under the glove.  Amputated.

  All I needed was a joint and a half.....and I get a model missing two joints and a half.  She was a trooper, but I couldn't work around an air finger.

  Going back this afternoon.  Never thought I would have to count digits on a hand model, but there it is.

  There's always a problem in a photo shoot.  You just never know where it's coming from.

Suicide Saturday Afternoons

  This week was a scenic tour.  My nephew's ex-girlfriend, who maliciously caused much legal grief...shot herself.  About a year late, if she was going.

  A guy I knew of, and had photographed for a major client, killed his wife with a baseball bat and then hung himself.  In the storage shed.

  The Redhead's classmate in an Austin Pilates seminar had a fight with her boyfriend and hung herself in the house they were housesitting.

  Much drama.  Kids.  Dogs.  Families.  Patients.  Students.  Neighbors.  Churches.  Clients.  All left behind.

  I get in from the range, the Redhead gets in from the health food store and we make a deercam run, hit the gas station.  Dairy Queen for chocolate dipped cones in the slanty late light.

  Kill yourself in the workweek and miss.... the gift of a nice lazy Saturday afternoon. 

  God preserve and save us from next week.