And Happy New Year, too. Time to get back on track with this blog with a shiny new look (easier on the eyes, I hope) and more of the latest and greatest of the old and once important. I’ll try to update this page on a more regular basis. But that sounds like a New Year’s resolution, and one thing I know is that the thrift stores are full of other people’s New Year’s resolutions Lots of exercise bikes (I resolve to get in shape), diet cookbooks (I resolve to lose some weight), college textbooks (I resolve to get that diploma), family photos (I resolve to spend more time with my family)… and so on. That’s probably why a lot of people hate setting foot in a thrift store. They can be kind of sad places. Then again, the mountains of crap that I sift through photographically are probably the end product of someone’s successful resolution (I resolve to get more organized, to quit smoking, to leave this crappy town). So maybe there is hope in new years.
What the heck is my problem? I’ve got a camera, I’ve got the time, and I’ve got a compulsion. If I was in to New Year’s resolutions mine should probably be spend less time “where people’s stuff goes to die.” Well, maybe next year.
Until then, let’s check out some books that haven't been checked out in a long time...
So is that a "Charlie Chaplin" tramp or a "Frank Sinatra That's-why-the-lady's-a-tramp" tramp? And exactly why would God require her to be either? And damn, isn't she a happy looking tramp? Do you get the feeling she didn't know her picture was going to be used in this way? Guess I'll have to read it and find out.
Here's one of those New Year's resolutions (I resolve to learn something new) that ended up on the "hardcovers $1.00/ paperbacks $ .50" shelf. Maybe it's that title, "Living With Art" which kind of sounds like "Living With A Tumor." Introduction: There's no reason why a person can't live a healthy, productive life even with a terminal case of Peter Paul Rubens, Picasso, or even Roy Lichtenstein.
"Now a Major Motion Picture!" Yeah, right. I looked it up on IMDB. The plot, you ask? Anytime He Found Himself In A Tight Spot, He Left. Until Now. Apparently (and according to the title) now, he doesn't leave, he runs. That makes sense. Interestingly, however, one of the actors is Billy Zoom from the LA punk band X. He plays "guitarist in band." Then again, his only one other credit is for the 1976 version of King Kong as "Man running from monkey." Must have been typecast.
Another New Year's goal? Cash for bunnies. And if that doesn't work they make great sandwiches. Mmmmm, bunnies. I can't help but think of that infamous, disturbing scene from Roger & Me where a woman caresses a bunny and kills, skins and guts it all for your viewing pleasure. Happy new Year!
Now here's a good idea. And an author like John Lust ought to be an authority on empowerment-through-vice. This is probably just a come on. Drink Your Troubles Away... With Great-Tasting, Calorie-Burning, Hair-Regrowing, Breath-Freshening, Opposite-Sex-Attracting Nutra-Fizz! Either that or Jesus is inside.
Hal Linden has a gray itch. Yuck. Oh great, now I have to worry about "male metapause syndrome" or MMS as the hip-kids call it. Which probably has something to do with lusting after young women, or "being a guy" as the hip-kids call it. That or some type of gray fungus that makes one stare fondly at smaller people in colorful bubbles.
Here's a page turner. Rejection for Dummies! Chapter 1: How to not get a job; Chapter 2: How to not get a date. Chapter 3: How to not win at American Idol. Oh, I forgot, this is a book about Jesus. There's a lot of that dude in the thrift store.
This book's depressing on several levels. Firstly, apparently half your face disappears when you have a stroke, or whatever. Secondly, the title Self-Care for the Hemiplegic, which implies that no one really cares about you except you. Comb your own damn hair. Thirdly, there are 703 previous volumes of rehabilitation publications out there. Lastly, this guys either staring in a mirror, implying crippling narcissism, or into the window of someone's house, implying some kind of bizarre voyeurism, involving combs, undershirts, and hemiplegia.
Have your ever seen a more depressing book cover? Is human psychology really so dark? I mean these are kids here. I know puberty is tough, but they look live they've just been through the fire-bombing of Dresden. Human Suffering For You. Of course, as I write this my @#$%^*! ex-con neighbors are stomping on my ceiling, blasting their reggae music, yelling like zoo animals, and generally reinforcing the idea that most humans suck. So, maybe "Gordon" wasn't so far off.
You know, if the plot of your novel is about encouraging your sibling to weep... Maybe she's upset because she's missing half of her face. Fret not, sister! There's a nice, lonely hemiplegic man I know that I'll bet you'd hit it off with. That is if you don't mind his comb-fetish.
You know what's wrong with this book? 200+ pages and no psychos and no pictures. Talk about false advertising.
Okay, this is making my brain hurt. If they're "real phony" does that mean they're not phony? And what would a "phony phony" be? Someone real? And how come all those kids in the question mark look like they want to beat me up?
You know, if one of your eyes has popped out of its socket and is laying on the ground in front of stained glass window (in church?) and starts beaming messages into outer space, that's not right. That's all I'm saying.
Oh, write your own caption.