Not that this has ever happened to me, but I thought I would pass it on. On this site I don’t pass on the usual Internet drivel, but this was too important. I know this is a fake magazine cover sent to me by my former New Hampshire neighbor Bobbo, but Bobbo and I excelled in the practice of the devolution of the words “Yes Dear” that should be the motto for this publication. Bobbo and I never had any legitimate reason to ever bitch or whine at our spouses, but after tooooooooo many nutritional supplements we would always embark on our journey down the road of the Cro-Magnon spineless husk. Whenever we were asked to do something, we would both chime in together “Yes Dear” and then again, and again, and again, each time getting less intelligible until after about eight times “Yes Dear” would devolve into a single almost silent grunt. Together we would hang our heads and shoulders and Bobbo would ask, “Did you see someone just yank out my spine?” We would laugh out asses off and then look for another nutritional supplement. Go Bobbo Go!!!
The magazine for real men.
And yes, I really have a “Yes Dear” shirt. I wore it in the New York Marathon a few years ago and was constantly stopped by groups of women wanting to know where I got it.
So I’m walking in with the crowd to see the first game of a seven game series of the hockey championship between the Alaska Aces and the South Carolina Stingrays and I literally bump into this thin woman in a silver trench coat and this guy carrying a baby. There were a lot of people in the aisle so I didn’t think anything of it until I got a step ahead of them and turned and saw our famous Governor Sarah and her husband Todd. They were walking in with all the rest of us to watch the game and as things go in Alaska, everyone leaves them along. They are just another hockey fan to root on the local team.
I know I will be asked, is she really hot in person? Yes she’s hot in person, but I like Tina Fey better.
Alaska may be the largest state in the Union, but it’s really the smallest. Last year I received an award for administering the Alaska Business Plan Competition signed by both Senators, Lisa Murkowski, and Ted Stevens. I was shocked that I had been in Alaska less than a year and had an award signed by both Senators. I asked the person who gave me the award how he got their signatures, and he told me he just walked over to their offices and said here sign this.
Check out these photos of small state America.
That’s Todd in the black vest with the other baby in the center of the photo being their daughter Bristol’s.
That’s Todd hangin’ out like a regular joe.
There is the famous gang sitting five rows behind me.
Throwing down the gauntlet to the governor of South Carolina.
Throwin’ out the first puck.
Oh the famous Palin red carpet.
World Beard and Mustache Championships
Every two years, the owners of the world’s most elaborate facial hair come together for the World Beard and Moustache Championships. This year the championships were held in the United States for the second time in their history, as the City of Anchorage, Alaska played host to the world’s bearded and mustached elite. The previous championships were held in:
1990 Hofen/Enz, Germany
1995 Pforzheim, Germany
1997 Trondheim, Norway
1999 Ystad, Sweden
2001 Schombrrg, Germany
2003 Carson City, NV
2005 Berlin, Germany
2007 Brighton, Great Britain
Here are the categories. All three of these also have a “Free Style” category where anything can happen.
Mustache category.
Partial beard category.
Full beard category.
I watched the beard and moustache parade in downtown Anchorage and here is what I saw.
Championship in Alaska
Wyatt Erp
The Germans have landed!
Your tickling me nowhere with that!
Beard Team Canada eh.
Dapper Dan
Ricolaaaaaaaaaa.
Paul Bunyan, Leprechaun, and Hare Krishna
Some Scoutmaster from Europe.
Dickens I presume.
I know this guy from somewhere.
So this is how Belgium beer began.
Alaskan whaler style.
Moses with ZZ Top.
More Germans – go figure. What planet did that guy on the right come from?
Australians drunk already trying to get their flag going the right way in the northern hemisphere.
General Lee.
More Germans.
Johnny Depp and the Music Man. That’s not a python around his neck, it’s a goddam beard.
Getting back with my Mardi Gras home boys.
Your basic biker beards.
Russian women.
I have no caption for this guy.
One of my students is on the local Anchorage women’s roller derby team and invited me to their fund raising party. So I figured there would be crazy people there and I might fit in. Sure enough, the party was a 80s disco costume affair. I had a real powder blue polyester leisure suit so I wore it with my loudest New Orleans Jazzfest shirt. They had a costume costume contest and I inadvertently got in the finals. The finals consisted of a disco dance-off. So this other guy and I discoed it out. I had done stupid stuff before several thousand people in Paris (click here for the link) and had made a fool out of myself numerous times in the past – so this wasn’t anything different. A few minutes before we took the floor the wife of a friend of mine pulled me aside and said I needed this if I was going to represent the 80s. She pulled out a small vial of powder (I didn’t know what she was up to at that moment) and dabbed some white powder on my nose and upper lip. She told me it was baby powder so I chilled out. I ran onto the floor looking a coked-out 80s rocker. I danced like a fool and won the contest. I was awarded with a meal for two at a local restaurant, a hair cut, and a tee shirt. Overall it was a crazy roller derby night.
Goin’ toe to toe with fuzzball.
John Revolta never did this move.
I have no idea who she was.
The DJ liked my outfit so much he had to take a photo with me and send it to him.
The National Archaeological Museum of Athens in Athens houses some of the most important artifacts from a variety of archaeological locations around Greece from prehistory to late antiquity. It is considered one of the great museums in the world and contains the richest collection of artifacts from the Greek antiquity worldwide. Here are some of my favorite objects.
Say that one more time about my hat and I am going to sock you.
Feed me!
A face only a mother could love.
Dammit, I knew I should have left the guard on the saw.
I told you I’m cold.
I’m watching you.
Henny Youngman in Greece – “Take my wife, please!”
Monty Python in Greece – Walk this way.
I used to date this girl.
Silent scream.
Pan trying to get some action.
Who snipped off my action?
Dammit, I want my action back NOW!
Fresh fish is a big deal in Greece. Such a big deal that there are still street level fish mongers who drive up and down the streets of Kalambaka with super loud PA systems yelling our their wares. I first thought it was a political demonstration since we were advised that the Greeks start as many public demonstrations as the French. The second time I heard this noise I went out to discover this guy in a truck selling fish. Upon hearing his call, people would come out from their upper story apartments and yell to the guy what they wanted. He would package it and run up to their apartment. With this real old-school method I figured it might work in other areas. So I sat out on the sidewalk waiting for the cart to come by with a guy yelling “Bring out your dead.” I guess I’ve seen too many Monty Python movies for my own good.
His fish must have been fresh since his truck didn’t stink.
If you have wondered why I have included a photo of a toilet, let me tell you. I am 6’ 2” tall and generally require a medium amount of space in a bathroom, but this room took the cake. I have never experienced a smaller bathroom in my life. I could not turn around in the shower and had to dry myself out in the bedroom. The placement of the toilet was even more disconcerting. From the front of the toilet to the heater coil was about 4” and to the side wall about 3”. Being that the heating coil was about 200 degrees there was no normal way of using this device. Side saddle was problematic because the seat was not bolted down. I didn’t tell anyone on the trip this, but I was trying my best when the seat slipped and I fell into the bowl.
So this is what is meant by visiting the Oracle.
Most of the music in Greece is traditional ethnic music. Even the current pop music has ethnic roots and instruments. Traditional Greek dancing is the favored sport at many of the clubs that host regional musicians and bands. With the traditional flavor, the clarinet player is often the star of the show. Here are a few posters for these local rock stars that I saw in several cities.
This summer he will be on tour opening for Aerosmith.
I didn’t know Johnny Depp played the clarinet.
If you don’t give me money, I will play this at you!
Saw this ad in an optical shop in Kalambaka. The poster reads “Have Protected Sex.” You definitely won’t see this ad in the states.
But what if you have an astigmatism?
Every time we stopped in a new city we were warned about the Greek drivers. They speed, drive on any side of the road, honk their horns, give hand gestures, and aim for pedestrians. You would think they were Italians. Anyway, all along the highways we kept seeing these little houses on poles. I initially thought they were bird houses, but why so many and with such decoration. We learned that they are shrines to people who had been killed on the highway at that location. We saw hundreds of them on every road, especially on difficult turns and tight spots in the road. Inside each box are mementos of the dead person along with a candle that is supposed to be constantly lit (none were) and others treasures.
Must have driven off this cliff.
Looks like a Thelma and Louise moment.
Apparently didn’t make the curve.
Probably killed by a cow.
Is this where I leave my mail?
How did I get in there?
More goodies.
Brand new Greek Orthodox Church motif.
Thermopyles is the site of the famous battle inflicted upon us by the movie The 300. It’s no wonder that the Spartans lost against the Persians. The Spartans fought along side 700 soldiers from Thespiai. These Thespians were of little use. Have you ever seen an actor kick anybody’s ass? What the Spartans should have done is get 700 soldiers from the island of Lesbos. Those gals would have come in and taken out all of the Persians and probably the Spartans as well.
You can’t see in the first photo, but there is a large lake about a mile or two away on the right. Back in the day, the lake was up to the side of the road where the arrow is. This made for a very narrow passage way to travel. The mountains on the left are very high and with difficult terrain. So this was the spot to attempt to stop the Persians. Apparently nothing has changed over a few thousand years.
After viewing the site, we watched the movie in the bus. It made a lot more sense.
Lake up to the arrow.
Memorial to the fallen.
There is no cliff at the real site.
Where are those Lesbians now that we need them?
Apparently the Macedonians were wiser than we had previously thought. They realized that man would eventually loose the need for appendages and evolve into a two-headed creature where thought and intellect would rule. Wait a minute, isn’t that the definition of a twenty year old male, except the wrong head is in charge. Anyway, here is a representation of the devolution of man.
This reminds me of that old joke, “How does a one-armed man count his change?”
Our first leg of the trip to Greece was Anchorage to Chicago. In Chicago we had a six hour layover. We were switching airlines so couldn’t check in our luggage and thus couldn’t get past security to get to food or comfortable seats. So, I dragged my bag over to the Hilton Hotel, had a nice breakfast, and found a comfortable chair in the lobby to read and nap. I soon fell asleep in the lobby chair and woke up not knowing where I was. All I could see was this carpet all around me and thought I was having a flashback from the 60s (I didn’t think that stuff could stay in your system that long). I at least had the wherewithal to not get out of the chair and start staggering around. It took a few minutes for me to completely come to my senses and realize that I WAS having a flashback to the 60s. It was this carpet that was in the old Fox Theater in Fullerton, CA where I had gone to the movies since I was ten or eleven. I hated that carpet then, and realized I still do. This carpet should be illegal in most states or be required in every home in Texas and Arkansas and should not be around travelers who have had little sleep. Take this as a warning the next time you are at the Hilton Hotel at the Chicago airport, Austin Powers is lurking – shag me baby.
At least this carpet wasn’t sticky.
I had the chance to visit Laguna Beach and happened upon this shot.
It’s better than the television show.
Only in Hollywood would you see this billboard. This is for a matchmaking service that hooks people together to are interested in having an extramarital affair. Check out their web site: ashleymadison.com.
Now this is what I call eHarmony!
I have found my dream ride! I never thought of a Ford Taurus as an intergalactic love machine to take me around the world a few times. But I guess I could go through a couple of tanks of gas with the appropriate linkage to my shifter. This extraterrestrial speeder has four-on-the-floor, high lift suspension, newly aligned front end, twin headlights with sealed-beam silicon construction, the smallest windshield washer fluid tank available on a mid-size production vehicle, a huge engine plus disc brakes for those moments of high speed and immediate stopping, the ability to go for hours on a few inches of fuel, safety belts for that critical moment of weightlessness, and the technical specifications to go full speed ahead in forward or reverse. This rocket-propelled love shack also has massive heat shields for the inevitable re-entry.
I wanted to take this vehicle out for a test drive, but I wasn’t able to come a knockn’ because the vehicle was a rockin’. So much for the New Orleans space program.
An unfortunate man’s car – zero to warp speed in 2 minutes or less.
I thought this was the only love ship in New Orleans.
I just don’t get this blue dog thing. I know the artist has made millions with his copyright on the blue dog icon, but what else can you do? I see this repetition of the “one trick pony” syndrome as the dumbing down of art appreciation. I also don’t get it when I walk into an art gallery and see a stack of one artist’s work and they are all the same painting. I may not be famous or wealthy from my art, but at least I have never done the same piece of art twice. Okay, I did once – but that was for money (check out this link).
Alright, I prostituted myself only once. Does that make me an art whore? I only did it for the money to feed my children and to pay for my college education. It’s not a life style for me, just a part-time avocation. I really didn’t enjoy it, I just closed my eyes and waited for the art to end. But, when it was over I realized I kind of liked it. I enjoyed the adulation from a satisfied customer and his promise to share my phone number with others. Okay, I’m secretly waiting for my phone to ring and for my next trick. I realize I have an art itch where I can’t itch and need scratching. How easy it is to get on that slippery slope of the degradation of one’s soul to become an art whore – come on blue dog!
A four-headed dog. Isn’t this the mark of the beast?
Whore house of blue dogs.
Since New Orleans is below sea level and because the city was built on swampland, burying people in the ground is not a good idea. They can pop up when there is a good rain or when the voodoo is right. So, the local people harkened back on their roots and did that French thing of stacking the bodies like cordwood above ground in stone tombs (see prior post Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris). These photos are from the graveyard in the Garden District where hundreds of movies have been made. If you were a movie producer and needed a graveyard with above-ground tombs, you filmed here in New Orleans.
I thought Marie Laveau was buried in this graveyard but found that not to be true. As I walked around looking for her grave, I stumbled across the local cemetery historian (alright, a homeless guy who knew the area and was taking some tourists on a tour). He asked me if I wanted to join his tour and I said I only wanted to find Maria Laveau’s grave. He told me she was not buried here and that this was a safe cemetery and that they “didn’t allow no voodoo in this cemetery.” He told the me he had previously gotten a bag of chicken feet from the butcher and lined them up at the two entrances to the cemetery. Since then, there has been no trouble for anyone visiting the cemetery – or so he said. I thanked him and gave a tip of three bats wings, one eye of newt, and a pinch of ebazeeba (alright I’ve watched Elvira Mistress of the Night too many times) and left to find Maria Laveau.
Check out some of these crypts and tombs (sounds like a Los Angeles gang issue).
From the movie DejaVu. Didn’t know Henry Butler could play the accordion.
Open for business.
At night these are extremely scary.
Can’t afford a high-rise – get the convertible model with no top.
Another view of scary land.
Isn’t this where old Republicans go to die?
Marie Laveau was the voodoo queen of New Orleans in the late 1800s. She is supposed to have been born in the French Quarter in 1801. She was the daughter of a white planter and a free Creole of Color and became a hairdresser who catered to wealthy white families. Oral traditions suggest that the occult part of her magic mixed Roman Catholic beliefs and saints with African spirits and religious concepts. It is also alleged that her feared magical powers came in fact from a network of informants in the households of the prominent that she developed while a hairdresser and that she owned her own brothel. She excelled at obtaining inside information on her wealthy patrons by apparently instilling fear in their servants whom she “cured” of mysterious ailments. Many songs have been written about here and she is still revered in New Orleans.
On June 16, 1881, the New Orleans newspapers announced that Marie Laveau had died. This is noteworthy if only because she continued to be seen in the town after her supposed demise. It is claimed that one of her daughters assumed her name and carried on her magical practice after her death. She is said to be buried in Saint Louis Cemetery #1 in New Orleans in the Glapion family crypt. Still, the tomb continues to attract visitors who draw three crosses (XXX) on its side, hoping that her spirit will grant them a wish.
Here tomb is in an “interesting” area of New Orleans (was I PC enough?) After seeing her tomb, I hoped to have my wish granted of getting out of the graveyard alive (since people were being killed every night in this area). Instead of being a scofflaw and marking her tomb, I drew three Xs on my forehead, got a glazed look in my eye, and walked out with a sideways shuffle. None of the locals saw that as unusual and I lived to be a weirdo again somewhere else.
Marie Laveau.
Don’t be a scofflaw!
Notice the daily offerings at the foot of the tomb.
X marks the spot – three are even better.
It wouldn’t be New Orleans without the freedom of artistic expression when it comes to painting your house. I used to live in Irvine, CA where as a homeowner you had four choices of paint color for your house – dark beige, beige, medium beige, and light beige. If you went crazy and added a stripe or a lightening bolt to your garage door, they sued you to conform to the lowest common denominator of bad taste. Here are a few photos of some of the wildest color choices in New Orleans that people and their pigments can make.
Stylish with fine detail.
Didn’t know peach and teal went together.
These colors appear garish, but actually work.
I didn’t know you could purchase paint on eBay.
Vagina! Vagina! Vagina! The chant went on and on interspersed with the “C” word, the “T” word, and the “P” word. Yes – I had ventured into a local performance of the Vagina Monologues written by Eve Ensler. I had not seen the performance before or read the book, so I took a chance on the last night of the run and went for it. There were twenty one people in the audience. Ten lesbian couples and me. I sat in the “what the hell are you doing here” section and attempted to mind my own business. I soon figured out that I could have more fun being the fly on the wall watching me enjoy the performance with this croud then actually watching the performance.
There were many times during the performance when the rest of the audience would laugh and I didn’t. There were also times when I was the only laughing. The monologues were hilarious as well as saddening and traumatic. The local troup did am admiral job of the difficult material. The highlight was the interpretation of more than twenty five orgasmic moans that one’s coochie snorcher could make – if a coochie snorcher could actually make a sound.
At the end of the play, the director came out for some Q & A about the play and this particular performance. One woman in the audience asked a question. When the director finished her answer, she said pointing towards the woman’s friend, “I’m glad to see some men here enjoying the performance.” The woman in the audience responded, “she’s a woman!” The director said sorry, and took the next question. I swear to God, I might have made the same mistake and I have pretty good “gaydar” having lived in New Orleans for a while. The Q & A finally ended and everyone scuttled out with all but me thinking about the fun they would soon have at the candy shop.
I titled this post “Call Me Bob” and I am not going to explain it. If you have seen a performance of the monologues or read the book you will understand.
Book cover.
All of us have been to a concert featuring our favorite musical organization and left the show proclaiming “I would kill to be in that group.” Well, that statement is true for many of the members of the Hiland Mountain Correctional Center String Orchestra.
Most members of the orchestra never played an instrument before incarceration and learned to play while visiting the facility for an extended period of time. The women at Hiland Mountain Correctional Center currently have participants in all three levels of music: beginning, intermediate and advanced. The concert mistress achieved her prominent chair by beating out or eliminating all of her competition.
The orchestra will perform selected numbers from some of the lighter works of Beethoven, Brahms, and Schubert. These pieces will include such dance movements as the gavotte, minuet, bourree, sarabande, and courante. They will also feature such local dance favorites as murder, larceny, aggravated assault, and that Alaskan favorite – mayhem.
It’s a real prison.
They look gentle, but wait until they play pizzicato.
On March 27, 1964 (Good Friday) a massive earthquake registering 8.6 on the Richter Scale hit the Anchorage area. This quake was the largest to have ever hit the United States in recorded history, and one of the largest known worldwide. Geologically, the effects were widespread and dramatic. Large areas were lifted up or dropped by several feet, landslides were extensive, ground failure led to large fissures in the ground, and landslides into bays caused tsunami damage thousands of miles away. Luckily, the casualties were considerably lighter than might be expected for a disaster of this magnitude. 115 deaths are attributed to the quake. This relatively low number can be attributed to the sparse population of the area and the fact that the quake occurred when most people were at home.
I wanted to compare the historical photos of the quake with current conditions in downtown Anchorage. I took copies of the old photos and stood in the street until I got the proper perspective.
Damage on 4th St.
Today on 4th St.
More 4th St.
I wonder if these shops now have basements?
Apparently there are some people in Alaska who define the acronym PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) differently.
Wonder if he eats his broccoli?
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