My journal, adjusted, format

I just want to see if I'm  afflicted with

a wide, wide format forever.

 

Barry

LIFE, and death..............

Aiming for a parking space beginning near approaching end of the red painted gutter I came across a horrendous accident. All morning afterwards I was shaking from sadness and apprehnsion. I was en route to the doctor's office (the surgery is tomorrow morning) and running slightly late but i HAD to whip out my cheapo Polaroid digital camera and take some snaps. The accident happened on Burton Way in Beverly Hills near Cedars Sinia Hospital, mthe office buildings of whioch I was about to walk to, one block.

First pix almost standing up; Vincent positioned his brother Mark, and is standing just out of frame, in case!

Mother and child. Leonardo I ain't, but my love the same.

This is one of two fire engines that came to our building the night of the fire. To get there cooperation I asked politely and added that BACKDRAFT the movie wass the children's fav., which is true next to CRASH. (To my critics on the subject of what children should watch, I say, 'You bring up your children and I'll bring up mine.')  The tallest of the enormous firefighters confided that BACKDRAFT was his favorite movie too!  Ha ha.

Bought at Goodwill for a song. Unsigned, but my wild hunch is that the original hangs in the National Gallery in London, and was painted in the late 1800 about the time of the introduction of electricity. The style might be French imprsssionism taken indoors at night, a la Van Gogh - who wasn't an Impressionist, ha! Ol' Vincent was a law unto himself.

I tripped the self-timer, then couldn't see if it was running and it was too bright to see the image on the back of the camera, and there was too much light to see the self-timer light, or to hear it. The baby was accidentally cut out!?  Groan. But, I thought it does show the locale, Venice Beach walkway a visit to which is worth a whole college credit in Soc. Rel (Social Relations).

-----------------   Barry

I'll Find Out As I Type

Arrived at the scene of an accident today before the fire engines, two, had left, and after the ambulances had left, while one of the vehicles involved was upside down, half on the sidewalk, and the other vehicle sat in the middle of Burton Way with its front smashed in. I might, Vincent willing, post two of the five shots I took before going in to see the doctor, I think I'll post two here so you won't think I'm making it up, ha, and of course if Vincent is available. I have two other snaps I want to post, Mark kinda standing up eating the remote, and the other 5/6th of the family taken at Venice Beach walkway. The baby accidentally got cut out. Too bright sun to see the composition; I ran back after tripping the self-timer as usual.

Lot of chat about God on the Do You Believe? message board based on Biblical quotes. Curiously enough, that almost never leads to constructive interaction. It should be possible to talk about God with no Biblical references. Yearning for closeness to God doesn't need writing of any make or size to justify our quest, IMO.

Better stop before I get on the subject of movies again, ha ha ha.....

 

Barry

http://journals.aol.com/bbartle3/Vengeance/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'll find out, maybe, as I type.

In America, UK friends, pro football - you know, the version of football in which you can actually throw the ball forward, ahead of you!  Madness, right? Well, it's wanting one's cake and eating it too, veddy Americaine.  (In Australia I played Rugby Union at boarding school. I was lousy, but I did tackle well, so well that against St Josephs I was allowed to play on the A-Team, once.  I tackled freight trains! Nuts, ya know, but otherwise I stank.

An American famous for being able the throw the ball forward, in his position as quarterback, Vick is about to be jailed, let go from his lucrative football contract, and otherwise despised, for fostering dog fights for money, then killing the losing dogs.

Now, I'm a bit upset about that on two grounds: I still own a pitbull, the noble dog 'Tyson', who I love but have given to the care of my friend Arturo in Mexico. (Tyson was named after boxer Tyson the bighter. He bit opponent's ears.) In addition, dogfighting has a long history in England, and my prejudice is that if it was done in Britain, it simply must be A-Okay. My dog comes from breeding Bull Dogs, with Terriers. Something like that, resulting in Bull Terriers. Or, whatever, hence Pit Bulls.

The other objection I have is that football in America has sunk so low players actually try to injure each other on the field.  'Piling on' - diving on the just-grounded player, can earn a penalty, light, but usually goes ignored, unpunished, and applauded. Dog fighting doesn't seem quite as serious to me as deliberately injuring another player.  I guess there's a limit to my love of dogs. 

I'm dreadfully afraid that there's a racist element to this persecution of Mr. Vick the promoter of dog fights. This Vick, Englishmen and women, is drop dead handsome, strong, tall and skilled. His walk sends shivers of envy through opposing white football players, hence the fury with which he is piled upon when tackled.  A White Baseball bigwig years ago was fired for blurting out to the press that Black athletes got that way, Big-strong-handsome-virile and highly talented, because slavery bred them that way. Gulp.  But, if that was true where is the shame in speaking the truth? Hybrid Vigor! The offspring of disparate parents tend to be superior in brains and brawn.  Which of course is one of oodles of reasons why I thrilled at having interracial children.  (Have you ever seen lots and lots of photos of Peruvian women? I did last night on TV, a documentary. Spanish and Indian mixing in Peru seemed to have produced beauty beyond description due perhaps to the addition of South Sea island genes, and Oriental genes. The enormous Olmec head outside in copy at the Anthropology Museum in Mexico City, is clearly Asian. I'm not saying Olmecs were in Peru. I don't know where they were/are. Peruvian women came from God. I'll leave it at that!

Have you stolen a peek at Iranian women in newsreels? I have a flash for Muslim violent men: if they really truly believe they can keep those women all for yourselves, they oughtta think again: it ain't gonna hoppen ploppers, not in the modern age, it ain't, no matter how brutally they insist women cover up head-to-toe tip, and bow to stern (Ooooooo that 'Stern') because the cameras will do them in. Truth will out. Ha ha ha a ha ha........................Remember the ghasly hideous scenes secretly photographed at a football stadium in Afghanistan showing women being shot in the head from behind for showing some ankle in the marketplace? Those women will be avenged. History will do the job. And biology, and hybrid vigor, and God's love for all his children.

Barry

http://journals.aol.com/bbartle3/Vengeance/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foot Ware

"I thought that was a great family snap, you all look so dapper especialy Dad. Then I scanned down to your shoes.............. Oh Baz,what have ya got on yer feet mate? You look like the captain of your family ship, but flip flops???????
Gaz ;-)"

Dear Gaz;

The "flip flops???????" were strenuously objected to by a, my-same-age Senor, in the men's room of McDonald's. On the inside 'flop-holder' of each Flip is the word MEXICO. The color scheme of each 'shoe' is red, white, and green, the color of the Mexican National flag. My antagonist, fortunately for me, was unarmed. I should add here before I get to the real drama, that we lived for nearly five years, retired, in Guadalajara, Jalisco, and Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. So, in short, I'm familiar with Mexican rackets, and tired long, long ago of being accosted as a 'Gringo.' The McDonald's old guy, my age, was pissed that I was "Walking" on his country, and, on top of that, with dirty feet!

Since then I keep the flippers clean: the chief benefit of the slippers for me is that I wear them to the pool, whether indoors or outdoors. The concrete surrounding most pools is rough to help one from slipping on one's keyster. I wash them in the men's room shower, along with myself.

As you know, I'm proudly old, and win swimming races in my age group. My God, I better get back to meets and pick up some more medals 'cause by rule I am now eligible to swim in the 75 - 80 age group and just might win in the Medley too, in spite of having virtually no 'Dolphin' AKA in USA as 'Butterfly' stroke.  The rule is that each year your age-group is determined by age beginning with your birthday anytime in that year. I'm 75 in September, so this year I'm in the 75-80 age group.

In age, there isn't quite enough circulation in my legs to satisfy me, so I avoid wearing shoes as much as possible. Nobody objects to my flip flops provided, apparently, nothing is written on them. Language, ya know, is "violence" to quote England's academician Jacqueline Rose. And, remember, my photo was not taken in Hyde Park(which I walked through more than once, shod, and wearing a suit looking for a soapbox to stand on and showoff my fine English shoes) but casual California, in a cemetery. The dead didn't mind.

Barry

Luv ya Sport!

http://journals.aol.com/bbartle3/Vengeance/

The Whole Gang

 

Dunno why this isn't sharper. The camera was on a tripod, and set off by the self-timer.  There was a better frame, taken with all of us standing at another location in the cemetary over the wall from where we live.  But when Vincent set it up the faces were too dark. Only during this being set up in the computer did my son lighten the faces, something he could have done on the better shot. I didn't know it was a computer option. But, he'd finally given the okay for his likeness to appear, so I didn't make him go back and lighten the better frame. There was an empty space on the right (stage left, heh) which Vincent, age 12, cut off at my request. In bright sun it sure is tough seeing what you're shooting with a cheap digital camera. For one thing, you can't trust the eye-piece at all, only the picture on the back of the camera. Not used to that at all. Oh well, it's a 'brave new world,' ain't it?!

Barry

Hoping for your indulgence.

 

 

Mark's Bath Time

Couldn't resist taking Mark's picture since he was having such a good time.  He's so good tempered I've started to wonder if the presence of his older brothers calms him, makes him laugh, and overall be more relaxed. If he were an only child his temperament might be crabby, which presently is hard to even imagine.

Barry

http://journals.aol.com/bbartle3/Vengeance/