I sent this to Canon in the hopes that it might find the right person at the right time… If any of you have ever looked for a professional quality, multi-format film scanner (possible Jorsa) than you know how I feel…
This is less a question than a pleading to Canon engineers… PLEASE develop a top quality film scanner which will scan at least all 120 formats. With Nikon out of the biz and nothing out there producing top quality scans from old and new film, there must be a market. Canon, being an electronics company as well as a camera company, should be able to product something… I know you, the reader of this comment, will not be in a position to help. However, you could forward this to the right people who may understand this great need. (Picture me on my knees begging and pleading for this as soon as possible)
Sincere thanks for anything you can do,
Long time Canon user,
Name and address blah blah blah
February 10, 2010
We just got back from the vet and Satchmo has cancer. We will probably have to send him off on a kitty journey in three or so weeks… Sad news… He is a good pooter. We figure he is about 15 to 16 years old…
Here is a pic of pooter Satchmo from 2001:
September 1, 2009
THIS IS ME, YARBZ, CIRCA 1980 WHILE IN THE .50 CAL TURRET OF MY LVTP-7 SOMEWHERE IN CAMP PENDLETON. I WAS WEARING THE NBC (NUCLEAR BIOLOGICAL CHEMICAL) MASK TO AVOID BREATHING IN THE HEAVY DUST WHICH THE LINE OF TRACS MADE AS WE MOVED THROUGH THE SCRUB BRUSH AND BONE DRY DIRT TRAILS. I WAS PROBABLY A LANCE CORPORAL IN THIS SHOT. BELOW IS THE SAME BUT OBVIOUSLY WITHOUT THE MASK… I REMEMBER HAVING A REAL FUN TIME SOME OF THE TIME AND THEN LOTS OF ‘UN-FUN’ TIMES, ESPECIALLY WHEN WE GOT BACK TO THE RAMP (THE PLACE WE PARKED AND SCRUBBED THE VEHICLES) AND HAD TO CLEAN UP THE TRACS AFTER OPERATIONS…
ONCE AGAIN AT CAMP PENDLETON WITH A STACK OF M-16’S DURING A WEEK LONG FIELD OPERATION. I REMEMBER THE SMELLS OF THE CAMP PENDLETON AND EATING OUR FOOD WHICH WAS IN THE FORM OF ‘C’ RATIONS… BY THE LAST YEAR OF MY TIME IN THE MARINES, 1983, WE HAD SWITCHED TO MRE’S WHICH ARE WHAT OUR GUYS AND GALS ARE EATING NOW…
June 23, 2009
April 1, 2009
March 31, 2009
March 12, 2009
Large file in the ‘MORE’ Section.
I have the name of the town written down at home but don’t remember it right now. I think it is Indiana but I will clarify later. This was taken in 1999 during my cross country adventure encompassing 16000 miles and is one of the towns we stayed in.
I had a very fitful sleep due to the hot and sticky air that sat motionless in our room. This old boarding house room was quiet and without air conditioning so we could hear the night sounds. Careful listening could separate the apparent silence from the faint buzz of florescent lighting outside our open second floor window. There was the occasional creaking of the old plank floor.
I woke up about well before the light and wondered around the vacant streets of the town with my Leica M6. I was shooting chromes (slides) during the entire trip which seem to capture life more accurately than negatives. This image didn’t make it past my original edit but when recently scanned on better equipment, the image really came alive. It captures precisely how I remember this morning felt as I wondered the slumbering streets in the quiet hours of the morning. Every faint smell and subtle sound seemed amplified to be devoured by the senses. All this delicate input is later lost to all as the clanking daily commotion slowly gains momentum to become a typical weekday. For now though, I can hear the grit scraping away at the worn concrete sidewalks underneath my boots. The soft rhythmic pattern of my solitary meandering keeps me company until the muffled whirling hum of a squeaky-belted V8 engine grumbles by in a pitted chrome and chipped paint clad sedan.
Main Street USA is gone with scant few exceptions. Most of us don’t know what we’ve missed. My generation saw the last of it when we were children. We get mega-sized drug stores with identical stock sitting caddy-corner on every ugly intersection. Battleship sized Wal-Mart’s and Target stores that sell only the cheapest possible version of any given item. Gone are the independent markets and shops run by local families and entrepreneurs who stock diverse quality merchandise and locally grown food and beverage.
Perhaps the end of the generic megastores is near as the struggling economy wields its substantial hammer of retail-natural selection. This could open the door for smaller, better shops and at least a partial return to a local economy. The over-saturation of bland identical corporate retailers that blight America in unending urban sprawl may, I hope, become the compost that feeds a better future.
March 11, 2009
Larger pic in the ‘MORE’ section:
The Miss Washington Diner in downtown New Britain, Connecticut has been there for decades. This is our default breakfast joint on any given weekend morning. Since I don’t eat breakfast on weekdays when we go out for breakfast, it must be good. We’ve been to other diners and breakfast places but Miss Washington is the only one that understands what “over medium” means. Freddie is the man behind the grill which sits midway behind the lime green counter that runs the length of the building. He smiles a lot despite having the difficult, hot and greasy tasks of a short order cook. I like the yokes runny but the whites solid. It’s an art apparently that few short-order cooks in the area have mastered. Freddie has. My eggs are just right every time.
We’re regulars and Freddie knows us and greets us when we walk in, as do several of the waitresses, all of whom put in many long and early hours in this classic but semi-rundown diner. Freddie is originally from Turkey and has a slight but exotic accent when he speaks. Turkey would be an interesting place to visit, especially if you had a person like Freddie to act as your own private tour guide.
The building itself is in need of cosmetic repairs and the green Formica adorning the tables and counter has seen its share of bruises. However the structure is holding its own and not so far gone that a restoration would be out of the question. Maybe one day, if downtown New Britain can pick itself up off the floor, the funds will be available for a full restoration.
This diner has all the classic accoutrements that make up the stereotypical American diner including stainless steel inside and out, permanently mounted, round backless swiveling barstools topped with salmon colored, slightly padded Naugahyde tops and a long Formica counter. The original copper colored star-burst ceiling fixtures offer a warm light that provides a counterbalance to the cool green rays emitted from the fluorescent bulbs that quietly hum in the cases behind the counter. There are juke boxes at each booth as well as every eight feet along the counter. These devices occasionally inject undesirable interruptions of tinny-sounding top-forty, soon to be forgotten, pop songs that drown the natural din of a busy diner. This constant din is the sound of a diner, the opera of its operation. It’s the clinking clanking of plates, the clatter of utensils and metallic bangs and scraping of a busy grill. It’s the intermingling of unintelligible words and voices drifting from customers’ unending conversations. Eventually though, the intermittent juke box becomes just another part in the overall production that goes on while we eat at Miss Washington.
March 6, 2009
File under Week 10 of 2009.
Welcome to March. Spring is near!!! However, there was a wicked Southern and East Coast snow storm this week. Here is a pic of WeirdSin’s backyard on Shades Mountain in Birmingham:
Looks a little like my front yeard from a couple of years ago…
My son got his driver’s license on Wednesday this week. Here is what he looked like just a short time ago:
And now he is driving…
…and it should be noted that Yarbz took this photograph…
AIG is No longer with us. Ring the bells and lower the casket. No one deserves it more.
Homemade cat bong maker Acea Schomaker starts off our list of fucktards this week. Here are others:
Richard C. Wiley from Wilmette, IL who shot his wife and teenage son. Note that he had killed another wife years earlier. Can you say Peterson?
Local asshat, Bryan E. Kerber, who apparently had an inapproriate relationship with a minor.
Speaking of which, Chester Arthur Stiles makes a return apperance on the Fucktard list this week. May he fry. Slowly.
David Paradiso is a fucktard for attacking the judge during his trial. He was sent to paradiso by one of the bailiffs.
Tracy Davies is a fucktard and partial cannibal for biting off her boyfriend’s tongue. Eww.
She is no match for Latreasa Goodman, who called 911 after not getting McNuggets at McDonalds where she went McNuts. Chicken nuggets are NOT an emergency. If you listen to the three calls, you can get her phone number: 882-0488. She should call this unnamed woman who calls the cops on the gay disco every night, at least once.
Cleveland fucktard Davon Crawford apparently offed most of his entire family and then didn’t have the balls to kill himself.
This cheeky bastard who apparently broke into a bar and drank $4k worth of top shelf liquor and then got naked. Four grand?
Stocks had another tough week with the DJIA going under 7,000 for the first time in more than a decade.
Trouble in Tampa Bay was manifest for four boaters out of Clearwater, FL, three of whom are still missing. Two were NFL players. One made it. Does anyone else find this story is somehow missing something? It just doesn’t compute for me.
These were among the headlines that were must click for me this week:
Scientists sovle mystery of Belly Button Lint (Thanks Spazticus)
Drivers find roads slippery after snow. No shit? Beware the sheen! Ice can be slippery!
Gas problem reported at local Taco Bell. If only they could find a way to bottle that stuff.
Enjoy your freedoms and happy healthy weekends to all.