Updating to the latest MacOS High Karate

Since I woke up and began writing while still in my PJs and Bucks T-shirt, it was afternoon by the time I finished writing an article that deserved more than its allotted space. I hard-scrabbled it down to a shell of its former self, satisfied that while imperfect, it is as good as it will get given the time.

So while I wait for the latest MacOS High Karate to upload to my laptop, writing with a pen in one of a stack of 50 new spiral notebooks that I bought when they were on sale at Wally World 10 for $10 about four years ago, I’m attempting to soak off the old gel nails from my left hand with 100 percent acetone which I realized in the wee hours of last night I had neglected to keep on hand and that required a trip to the drug store today to purchase. Damn it.

Unshowered and looking unkempt, I deodorized, put on a fresh blouse and my Lauren Conrad printed leggings, a pair of slides and my old jeans jacket (not my best look) to venture to the local RiteAid for acetone. After pondering the poor selection of available nail polish colors, I opted out and headed to the registers to pay for the bottle of acetone where Gertrude yelled to the only other cashier for assistance, flustered by the line of four mildly irritated patrons.

Pleased that no one I knew saw me shopping, I hurried to the car, stopped at the florist to order a bouquet for a friend and returned to the home office.

I gathered the cotton balls, acetone and nail clips and prepared my left hand. The acetone bottle label set in random position before me revealed what I presume is the RiteAid slogan: ‘look great feel great’ (all lowercase) above its 100% money back guarantee.

I snarfed my coffee.

I mean, I get it. It’s a slogan; one probably spitballed at a meeting of the best and brightest branding minds in the marketing department, run by focus groups, and approved by the management and shareholders who voted for it based on recommendations buried deep in the annual report. Considering that the only alternative nail polish removal method is the Dremel 4000 (read: dangerous equipment), it’s just hard to imagine a scenario in which acetone (read: some kind of poison) would make me look greater or feel greater.

This thought of course, made me examine the label further.

Turns out that 100% acetone consists of the following ingredients: acetone and denatonium benzoate. Um…excuse me. Question in the back of the room!

 

I think I need to resurrect those old Ross Perot pie-charts and graphs. While I never claimed to be strong in the STEM fields, I thought 100% still represents a whole? Maybe you MIT-Silicon Valley or chemistry types can clarify that for me.

Well, my High Karate operating system is ready to roll. Got more writing to do!

Advertisements

Movie Mystery and Intrigue

A fellow blogger posted his list of 50 favorite movies. Sometimes the perfect storm of direction, cinematography, lighting, on-screen talent, dialog, costumes and makeup, special effects and musical score combine to create a masterpiece.

For me, what makes a movie memorable are the lines; the words on a page, committed to memory and delivered with precision and emotion. Recognize any of these, who said them or where they come from?

 

Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life son.

It’s merely a flesh wound.

So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower.

Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.

It’s a business lie. It’s not the same as a life lie.

Come on in and try not to ruin everything by being you.

You are certainly the most distinguished group of highway scofflaws and degenerates ever gathered together in one place.

Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome.

Our speedometer has melted and as a result it’s very hard to see with any degree of accuracy exactly how fast we were going.

*****

I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.

I had no idea that broccoli could be so intriguing.

You soaked his underwear in meat? That is so wrong. Funny—but wrong.

Dude, is my face okay? I think you melted it off.

*****

Are you gonna eat your tots?

Photo Credit: thecia.com.au

I couldn’t love you any more if you were my own son. But the fact of the matter is, you’re… well you’re a putz.

You’ve got a great future in front of you in Retail Food marketing, and I just hate to see you throw it all away by going psycho on us.

Let me out there, sir, I have no problem exposing myself.

 

 

Now this is the thought that wakes me up in the middle of the night. That when I get older, these kids are going to take care of me.

Thank you for the cookies. I look forward to tossing them.

You’re different and special in your own way. Live it. Own it.

And up goes Her Royal Highness… Now exhale slowly…And down goes Her Royal Highness…

Heeere’s Johnny!

Terror: Old School

While digging for recipes, I discovered a booklet published in 1945 by Sealtest, a company known best in the Philadelphia region for its ice cream. Its forward illustrates an American perspective just after World War II that declares the end of terror on the world stage.  It implores communities, parents in particular, to take stock of its children’s health as an important part of citizenship.  What’s your take?

Sealtest forward20170804_11550928

Note the zip code for New York City.

Missing the Point of Living

We’ve become a visual lot with our media—social and otherwise.

Lately I’ve thought about how, before the advent of photography, we humans managed to appreciate the beauty of life. If we’re honest, we’ll admit that there are certain places too vast and human experiences too fraught with emotion to make capturing them photographically pale when compared to the feeling inspired by living the moment.

The lack of tools needed to capture one’s likeness might have left the more self-absorbed feeling impotent unless wealth afforded them the ability to hire a portraitist.

Conversely, those less fortunate or living in rural places, set apart from civilization excepting the occasional itinerant salesman or traveler, probably owned few instruments of self-indulgence such as these; forced instead to focus upon things without.

I envision a homesteader spending a lifetime tending to land, animals and family, who when rare opportunity to break arose, did not pause to consider looks for his own sake. Rather others may have insisted that he or she gather the instruments of grooming and couture for the purpose of looking the part by which they would be judged.

I take photos. Lots and lots of them. Several recent changes have become apparent to me when I am holding a camera.

Though I work hard to remain discreet it’s intensely difficult to capture candid photos. The instant people notice me, they pose. Worse, they give me that kissy-faced selfie expression that only works for Betty Boop.

Notably, it has become implausible to capture a photo of any group of people wherein at least one person is not fixated on his or her phone rather than upon the people and happenings that surround them.

If I shoot using my phone, no one cares, few people notice and no one asks on what website the pictures will appear.

I enjoy watching people even if through a lens. Lately, I’m just less sure of exactly what I am seeing.

Children possess an innocence that I most love to capture.  I lament that even those as young as one year old understand that the phone with its camera is the object for which they need to “act” and they, encouraged by well-meaning parents, respond by becoming an actor in its presence.

If there are children present in a public space, regardless of whether I say I am an amateur or professional photographer (and I have chosen to say one or the other depending upon the occasion) I get asked who I am and my purpose for taking photos. I don’t have to respond at all though I usually do. In public spaces, a person has no “expected right to privacy;” on the whole people seem to think that they do. This despite that they are likely being recorded whether I choose to press the shutter button or not.

Maybe the answer is in the words. By “taking photos” maybe people have come to believe that I am “taking” a part which inherently belongs to them. Still, I react with sadness when people become suspicious of my intentions. These are often the same ones who load their social media with photos of their children, friends, co-workers, the places they frequent, the insides of their homes, schools, places of work, worship and recreation.

I love photographing people at public events but I also make time to put down the lens and live in the moment.