Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Piece by piece


Silver Dollar, die cut DC502FP

There is an actual website that a person (a regular person's person) can visit any time they want that features a vast array of information regarding pre-1973 Springbok Puzzles.

We are talking wall-to-wall vintage Springbok, people.

We're talking which die cut was used to manufacture which puzzles, how many pieces the die cut produced, how many puzzles were made with the die cut, what year each Springbok was manufactured, what sorts of inserts came with the puzzles, notes on the puzzle boxes, information about puzzle backings, the history of the logo and even the inside story on Springbok's little known wood puzzles.

Puzzle repair

And--if you can believe it--there are tons more than that.

(!!!)

Just dig the sort of pure puzzle gold a person (a regular person's person) gets over there:

A given puzzle was often manufactured with a variety of different cuts.

The daring publication of a Jackson Pollack painting, Convergence, as a puzzle caused a sensation in 1964 Christmas gift markets.

A "Fused Cut" occurs when a small piece of a die breaks. This results in a "Fused Piece" (2 puzzle pieces "fused" into 1).

I swear life is beautiful.

Research pending

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Sunday, August 23, 2015

Add a pinch of free market to Citizens United and you get: TRUMP


Financial windfall, O'Brien style

Dear readership, these musings have been written quickly whilst a development news assignment waits, the laundry tumbles, the beef roasts and the Goat golfs, so just stick with me on this.

Given: Americans really hate corruption.

Corruption has been going on in politics for a long time. In January of 2010, however, the Supreme Court of the United States removed any fig leaf hiding it by essentially codifying corruption with the Citizens United decision.

Enter: Donald Trump.

Pundits have much to say about the popularity welling around him. They call him an outsider. They claim he's tapped into a certain spittle-flecked-red-faced rightie anger.

yeah, yeah

The primary reason people are rallying around Trump is his money. They believe it makes him immune to the siren songs of the lobbyists and deep-pocketed special interests. They believe it frees him from fundraising.

His supporters don't care what he says. And to be fair, why should they? Nothing politicians say matters. It's all tribal.

So Trump has money and he's a tribe member (well, sort of). Add a healthy dose of bigotry and misogyny and voila! You're in rightie heaven.

Conversely, the lefties love Sanders because he's a socialist. Sanders cares more about people than money-- a LOT more. Therefore his supporters believe he cannot be bought by the big money hurting all the little people. Add income equality, reproductive rights and a living wage and libs inflate with pure joy.

All of this is causing a real problem for establishment candidates because they are (of course) bought and paid for by lobbyists and special interests.

Aside: Could 2016 be Kasich/Biden? hm ... dunno

As for me, I'll take the socialist over the narcissist (I'm pretty sure you could buy Trump for one thin dime if he was broke while Sanders has sung the same tune for 30 years), but make no mistake: When the courts stand above the American people and announce that corruption is the law of the land, John Q. Public will gravitate to those they believe will eschew it. Trump and Sanders are the perfect candidates: one doesn't need money, the other doesn't want it.

There is something delicious in this.

For once, beads of sweat are forming on big money's upper lip, although I'm certain it will find a way to snuff out Those Who Will Not Be Bough. Until then, the lobbyists can pull at their collars and clear their throats while the rest of us enjoy some free market politics.


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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Phone cam round-up


Perhaps in response to Cleveland's ongoing and unprecedented growth, your humble hostess has been hella busy, but presents the readership with an apology for her prolonged absence and this paltry offering. For more frequent updates, she encourages persons to "friend" her on (Evil Overlord) Facebook, although she detests using the noun friend as a verb. She also tweets as evidenced in the sidebar, but with less joie de vivre than she updates her (Evil Overlord) Facebook page.

Photo included based on artistic merit of composition and color

Mystifying advertising assertion

Oddly pornographic wardrobe assertion

Evidence of party to which humble hostess was not invited

Look what they've done to my song, Ma

Actual road pizza

Photo for which there is no caption

Unfortunately named confection

Note: The pink shoes featured in this post are no longer in the possession of humble hostess. After just over 100 miles, the soles of said shoes had worn through to the secondary foam. They have been returned to Skechers and HH awaits a proper alternative replacement.

Lastly, a photo showcasing the Goat's parking skill. When the Goat parks like this, HH says, "So, Starsky, you gonna do a body roll over the hood?"

Goatmobile

The Goat assures the readership that he only employs this alternative parking method when the lot is no where near capacity. Nonetheless, HH remains skeptical.

Love,

HH

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Saturday, August 01, 2015

Dancing madly backwards with the roofmen



So I'm walking and I spy two guys working on a roof, surrounded by tools and packages of shingles, but right now, they aren't roofing, they are dancing all crazy like with undulating torsos and swaying arms and bobbing heads so I stop walking and start dancing all craaaAAAaaazy like them and it takes a minute for them to see me and when they do they point and go, AAAAAHHHHHH! and I point back and go AAAAAAAHHHHH! and then I turn back to my walk and they turn back to their roof.

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Saturday, July 25, 2015

You don't see this coming

Goat and new friends

So you're ambling around downtown Bedford, Ohio, and you are intrigued by a shop called Kulis Freeze Dry and so you step in.

Who expects to be greeted by a rhinoceros? No one, that's who. Yet there you are beside a full size stuffed rhino that was killed by a bow and arrow in the mid 70's during the last legal hunt of the animal.

huh.

The charming proprietor entertains your curious questions (when was the shop established? 1967. Is it still owned by the Kulis family? No, Mr. Kulis did not have any children. Do you get a lot of pets? I won't do pets anymore. That dog gave you all he's got to give).

The giant alligator frozen in an open-mouthed snarl in the back of the shop, incidentally, came up from Florida.

"That's as close as I need to get to the likes of him," you say.

Later, you will wish you had asked about the process, the training, the regulation and the emotions that go along with this business and how the hell did they get that rhino over here from Africa all those years ago? but alas, there are too many other things on your mind, so you say your thankyous and step back out into the world.

Passing by the rhino on your way out, however, you feel the  unmistakeable tug of the animal's lingering energy and the fleeting concept of a graveyard washes over you.

yeah, yeah

You pass a tattoo shop. Your stomach growls with hunger. You squint your eyes against the late afternoon sun.

You walk towards infinity.

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