Category: photog’s Corner

Here you will find the stuff that shouldn’t be mixed in the other categories but interest me. caveat emptor.

A Little Fun Music

photog photog's Corner, The Portly Politico ,

Tyler over at the Portly Politico in one of his music posts has a link to the William Tell Overture (but better known to non-musical types like myself as the theme song to the “Lone Ranger”).  I enjoy classical music but I have to be in the mood.

And just to show that I like me some classical music here’s a little opera.  Figaro, Figaro, Figaro.

“Largo al factotum.”  I’ve always liked this bit of opera because it allows me to revel in one of the few character traits of the Italians that seems positive, the irrepressible love of life.  Here’s a peon in the lowliest of professions but in his mind he’s a king.  He’s an absurd braggart but his unjustified confidence and swagger allows him to make his life a compelling adventure (at least for him).  The irrepressible clown prince.  And truth be told that kind of attitude is contagious and can be responsible for outbreaks of unbridled enthusiasm when it’s least expected.

17FEB2022 – Dunwich Complainer

photog Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Science Fiction / Fantasy , , , , ,

Last night I attended the monthly meeting of the Dunwich Republican Committee or as we call it “The Pentaveret.”  The meeting was sparsely attended as many are recovering from a winter bout of Dunwich demonic possession.  First Selectman Cthulhu was under the weather after having eaten some bad “seafood,” which is what he calls people living on the coastline.  So he wasn’t in attendance, which was kind of a relief.  He is a big personality and what with stepping on people and drooling all over the place and dribbling bits of man-flesh when he speaks it is a distraction.

The agenda included a report from the Treasurer that showed a net liability of about ten thousand dollars in the account.  The explanation for this was the cost of repairs to the “old Bishop place” after an interdimensional portal opened up in the kitchen and swallowed up the newly renovated appliances.  And the cook.  Apparently the First Selectman’s cousin Dagon got the address mixed up in his GPS and instead of arriving at the all you can eat buffet at the Dunwich Red Lobster, he materialized in the Bishop place and ate the cook and the contents of the refrigerator.  Luckily the cook was a Democrat and an illegal alien to boot, so after a little hand waving by the First Selectman with the State Police and a fifty-dollar “gratuity,” things were smoothed over.  It really helps to have a way with the common people.

During the Q&A I stood up and asked whether the COVID restrictions mandated by the state legislature and other unpopular decisions by the Democrats would provide a chance for the Republicans to make gains in the legislature this year.  Our State Representative happened to be at the meeting.  He was there to beg us to set up a fundraiser and meet and greet with his constituents.  He fielded this question saying that earlier in February most politicians had agreed that the Republicans would make significant gains this year.  There was even talk of the Governor’s mansion being in reach.

But last week Yog Sothoth was quoted in the larger circulation papers in Arkham stating that if the Republicans retook the legislature and the Governor’s mansion that he would be appointed attorney general and he intended to dispense with all criminal justice functions and immediately round up the democratic voters and have a luau.  He figured the Great Old Ones, once assembled for the feast could eat their way through the Evil Party in about forty-eight hours.

For whatever reason this seemed to spook the voting populace.  The consensus opinion was described as, “Yes the Democrats are inhumanly cruel and a terrible governing elite, but they’ve never clearly stated that they intend to eat their opponents alive.”  When Yog heard about this reaction, he complained that he had been taken out of context.  The Committee agreed that it was most regrettable that Yog had couched his answer quite so specifically.  Leaving a little wiggle room when talking about eating people alive is probably a good idea when dealing with those unfamiliar with the Cthulhu clan.  Well Yog is known for his honesty and candid speaking style.  I’m sure he can win over the crowd in time.

The final order of business was the Green Energy Initiative.  The town had been provided with $600,000 by the state and federal governments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions in Dunwich.  The Republican Committee had been approached by the First Selectman to create a team to draft a proposal for the town.  He told us to make sure we stayed within the budget but he encouraged “creative solutions.”  As an example, he mentioned that his cousin Azathoth owed him a favor and for almost no cost he could rearrange the very fabric of space-time so that only elements below carbon in the periodic table could still exist in our space-time continuum.  When the Republican Chair mentioned that all life as we know it not to mention all solid planets would cease to exist the First Selectman was heard to say, “That kind of nit-picking isn’t going to get you anywhere in this town.”  So, we’re still fielding ideas.  The committee is thinking maybe some solar panels on the abandoned church.

13FEB2022 – OCF Update – Return of Winter and the Mallards

photog Current Events, OCF, photog's Corner ,
Mallards on the Puddle in the Aftermath of 07MAR2018 Snow Storm

So, instead of an inch of snow as promised, we’re getting six inches.  Yay!  But at least the mallards have returned from Capistrano.  For a number of years (at least 3 or 4, maybe more) a pair of mallards show up every late winter/spring and raise a family.  I tried to get their portraits this morning but they were shy and swam off.  Above is a picture from a couple of years ago.

Snow removal will be a part of the daily chores today and tomorrow morning.  Yay!

I noticed Leftists are jumping on the anti-mandate bandwagon.  That’s how you know it’s over.  The big line is, “It’s not left vs. right, man, it’s about freedom and that’s groovy, baby.”  It won’t be long before Joe Biden will be trumpeting his courageous victory over COVID and the return of freedom.  These people make me sick.

I saw an article where Pfizer is starting to prepare stockholders for the fallout from vaccine safety failures.  They’re going to have to explain how they let dangerous drugs be pushed on children.  And Dementia Joe will too.  With any luck Fauci and those at FDA left holding the bag will be fired.  Prison would be more fitting.

Canada has indeed been red-pilled.  Trudeau will be voted out at the next opportunity and I’m guessing it will be sooner than later.  How that changes thing in that country is difficult to say.  They have even more sheep than we do, hard as that is to believe.  They’ll probably just fall right back into old patterns.  Maybe we will too.  But maybe not all places.  The happenings of the last fifteen years may finally be enough to spark a permanent revolt in some areas of the country.  That’s my hope.

And just to cheer myself up on a day that looks like it will be long here’s something from the way back machine.

Well, more to follow.  Gotta make the donuts.

27JAN2022 – OCF Update – Cabin Fever in Dunwich

photog Current Events, Life in Dunwich, OCF, photog's Corner , ,

 

Camera Girl has set out into the sub-zero shock of New England winter to purchase life sustaining supplies.  Like the heroine of some sort of 19th century Russian novel where the peasants are fleeing into the swirling snow with wolves nipping at their butts behind the horse drawn sleigh, she set out after raining down curses upon my head for being the unchivalrous monster that I am for sending her out there.

I hope she makes it back.  After all I do need some pumpernickel bagels this week and I do like the soups she provides.  But if not, well, the world must continue.  Eventually when it begins to warm again in May I’ll venture out and maybe I’ll discover the truth of her disappearance.  Was it the cold that got her?  Was it roving bands of pumpernickel pirates?  Did she just decide to head south and is now disloyally ensconced somewhere below the Mason-Dixon line?  These could be the questions that haunt me.  I might have to forge a new life for myself.  I might come to be known as a noble widower poet philosopher who dispenses rhyming wisdom and gasoline from behind the counter of my possibly soon to be purchased 7-11 franchise.

I don’t like the way the dogs have been eyeing me as they pace around the house.  Camera Girl didn’t feed them before she left.  More disloyalty.  They have a lean and hungry look about them.  If it comes to it, I’ll put up a stout fight.  They won’t get me without a fight.  Or at least I’ll scream a lot.  Although how bad can being devoured by dogs be?  And screaming is a lot of work.  I’ll raise the volume on the tv.  That should help somewhat.

Why did I ever let her go?  How dare she leave me here to perish in such an ignominious fashion.  What a treacherous sex they are!  And after all I did for her.  All those helpful comments on better ways to do housework and all the times I helped her find much better tv shows that she didn’t know she liked.  Well, it’s all for the best.  Who would want to live if it means going forward without pumpernickel bagels?  Excelsior!

She just pulled into the driveway.

Huh!

Alright, so forget all that stuff I said.  It’s funny how things can get confusing when you’re alone in a quiet house and the cold creeps in.  I guess I shouldn’t have watched “The Shining” last night.  I really need to get more sleep and stop spending so much time on the internet.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

All work and no play makes photog a dull boy.

Honey, I’m home!

 

Uhoh!

Meatloaf May be Dead, But He Still Owes Me Thirteen Bucks

photog Current Events, photog's Corner

Back in 1978 when Camera Girl and I were still newlyweds and music concerts were still a very important part of the youth culture, I bought two $6.50 tickets to see Meatloaf perform the Bat Out of Hell songs on a local college stage but just days before that concert, the big fat  dopey bastard falls off a concert stage and breaks his leg and we never got the chance to see him again.

But never let it be said that I can’t hold a grudge beyond the grave.  I still have the tickets and a bargain’s a bargain.

Meatloaf, you big fat dopey bastard, you still owe me one Bat Out of Hell concert.  You’re gonna have to perform it even if it is at the gates of hell.  See you there.

Sony A7 IV – The Unboxinification

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O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

 

The Eagle has landed.  After a day of doubt and hand-wringing over duplicitous freight and shipping dealings, the package arrived intact and seemingly unharmed.

Now comes the fun part.  I will start playing around with old lenses and new lenses and settings and adapters and just plain messing around with autofocus and hi ISO picture quality and all manner of to-doings.  I may neglect some of my duties to God and Country today but who could blame me.  This is my kid under the Christmas tree moment.  “You’ll shoot your eye out!”

17DEC2021 – OCF Update – The Joys of Home Repair

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Today I went out armed with enthusiasm and determination.  Also with bespoke fence supports, rebar, sledge hammers, levels, shovels and stainless steel screws.  And after several hours I came back a broken man.  My only solace is that I learned a valuable lesson, namely whatever you assume the worst case is, quadruple it.

My predecessor at the Compound was an inveterate do-it-yourselfer.  Which I’m sure saved him scads of money on contractors.  However, it meant that orthodoxy was not something he was held to.  When putting in a wooden fence it is best practice to set the posts in concrete.  Apparently Mr. DIY decided that was way too belts and suspenders for him.  So bye bye to bespoke supports.  Hello to hammering in any wooden or metal stakes I could get my hands on and nailing them to the posts.  Even aside from the unpleasing aesthetics of this makeshift solution, my confidence in the dependability of these repairs is very low.

I guess this spring, I will get to experiment with installing concrete footings.  But as a very lazy man my soul rebels at the enormous effort I’ll be expending.  Oh, the pain, the pain.

Well now by comparison writing a post or two seems like a walk in the park.  I’ll be doing a review of another of the last of the Star Trek season three episodes.  It was terrible but now I have something worse to compare it to, home improvement catastrophe.

Another Annoying Dunwichian Disturbs My Day

photog Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Science Fiction / Fantasy , , ,

Last week I was accosted by Albert Wilmarth, a nut who teaches some kind of intersectional studies nonsense at Miskatonic University.  I was heading back from a walk in Dunwich Forest when this wild-eyed kook rushes up to me and warns me that the Mi-go have removed Henry Akeley’s brain and were going to take it into outer space.  Well, this story seemed ridiculous on its face because anyone who has met Akeley knows he has no brain.

So, I tried to calm Wilmarth down by slapping him repeatedly in the face.  After about thirty slaps my hand got tired so I stopped.  I asked him to give me the details of these Mi-go.  He said that Akeley had described them as large, pink, fungoid, crustacean-like entities the size of a man, that have a “convoluted ellipsoid” composed of pyramidal, fleshy rings and covered in antennae in the place that where a head should be. So, I started slapping him with my left hand.  This time I got up to up to forty slaps.  At that point Wilmarth seemed less eager to continue the conversation and asked me to promise to stop slapping him.

Well, how could I refuse?  He’d been such a good sport up until this point.  I told him to relate Akeley’s story but keep it reasonable.  Wilmarth related a tale of how Akeley had corresponded by letter with him.  The letters related Akeley’s discovery of a drowned Mi-go at the fords of the Miskatonic river and how the living Mi-go then lay siege to Akeley’s farmhouse whispering in their buzzing voices about how they would remove his brain and take it along on their journeys to Pluto and beyond.  He further related how only his rifle and his dozen or so ferocious German shepherds had been responsible for keeping these mushroom lobsters from capturing him.  But he told me that the Mi-go were taking a terrible toll and every day he had to replace four or five of his dogs that were killed in the war.

I asked him, if Akeley was besieged how it was possible for him to procure more dogs and in fact how was he able to post these letters.  Wilmarth supposed that during the day the Mi-go went back home to their underground lair under the domed hills that they inhabit.  So I asked him why Akeley didn’t call in the police to witness this nightly battle.  Wilmarth seemed a little confused by this line of questioning and implored me not to start slapping him again.

So, I let that problem go for the time being and asked him to continue with his tale.  Then Wilmarth related how suddenly last week Akeley’s letters changed their tone.  And handwriting style too.  Akeley said that he had come to terms with the Mi-go and they were actually really nice guys and some were even Shriners.  And he told Wilmarth to come visit him at his farmhouse and Akeley would tell him amazing secrets of the interstellar travels of the Mi-go.  Wilmarth related how he visited Akeley who sat in a chair in a dark room covered in a blanket and how his face was unmoving and his speech was a muffled buzzing which somewhat resembled the noises that lobsters make when they’re thrown in a pot of boiling water.  And that the sandwiches and coffee he provided were awful but he ate them anyway.  And after retiring to Akeley’s guest bedroom for the night Wilmarth heard strange buzzing noises downstairs and when he got back to the dark room, he found Akeley missing but among the blankets on his chair he found a mask-like face and human hand-like shapes that looked like Akeley’s hands and face.  So, he ran out of the house screaming like a little girl.

Then Wilmarth started screaming like a little girl.  I had promised not to slap him so I kneed him in the groin.  That stopped the screaming.  After he was able to get up off the ground, he convinced me to go to Akeley’s farmhouse.  When we got there Wilmarth refused to go in so, armed with a fallen tree limb that was on the lawn I walked into Akeley’s house of horrors.  I found the darkened room that smelled pretty bad and the chair with the blankets but instead of the severed hands and face of Henry Akeley, I found one of those Michael Myers masks and those latex monster hands that they used to sell around Halloween.  Suddenly someone behind me shouted so I swung my makeshift club and laid my opponent low.  After finding the light switch, I realized that I had done the impossible.  I had brained a man without a brain.  There was Henry Akeley, with hands and face intact except for a large bump on his forehead where I had clonked him.

After he started to come to, I caught him up on why I was there.  He sheepishly admitted that he owed Wilmarth a bunch of money and had hoped that if he believed the whole story about being shanghaied to Pluto by lobster fungus, he could string him along forever and never pay him.  I felt bad for playing baseball with his skull so I told him that I wouldn’t rat him out to Wilmarth.  He offered me some sandwiches and coffee but I told him I’d pass.  That house smelled really funky.

When I rejoined Wilmarth out front I informed him that Wilmarth had been replaced by a Mi-go that had been surgically altered to exactly resemble Akeley.  I told him I escaped by using advanced martial arts that I had learned while studying in a Tibetan monastery.  I advised him never to go near Akeley’s house again and if he ever saw him walking around town to avoid him for fear of having his brain removed and sent to Pluto.

I really need a better class of neighbors.