Spock on Photography

Mr. Spock's opinion on some stolen 20th century photography (they had gone back in time, remember that one?).

Dialer

I never did understand what the commercial purpose of this was - wait - I think it stored phone numbers tonally so one could hold the dialer to a phone receiver and push one button to call a friend. Or colleague if you have one. It saved having to touch up to ten pay phone buttons that were probably contaminated with LSD or PCP or maybe cyanide anyway.

What I used it for was to simulate the tones made when coins entered a pay phone so I could call friends for free. A recorded voice would say, "Please deposit $3.75 for the next three minutes." Then three minutes later a recorded voice would interrupt - usually my girlfriend and me, to say, "Please deposit $3.75 for the next three minutes." My girlfriend would say, "You don't have to put all that money in the phone, I'll call you back." I could never say, "Don't worry baby, I have a dialer," because Ma Bell was always eavesdropping; I could almost hear her breathing. So I had to let girlfriend believe I was generous with my coins.

Long before cell phones replaced pay phones the phone companies got better and better at preventing the use of the device. But I have kept it. Now, if not technically an antique, it serves the same purpose. It usually sits in my china hutch between Abe Lincoln's beard (or some such wad of hair) and my stuffed passenger pigeon, or carrier pigeon rather.

Diego in Napa

Giver's remorse

Last night a man who was almost as wide as he was tall, 5'4" perhaps, followed a wisp of a woman into my house. This wisp was not the elegant willowy type of wisp but the clumsy awkward type. She had no teeth, or if she did, she didn't keep them in her mouth. She had difficulty standing straight. In fact, and this is an observation for descriptions sake, she walked like Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein. As she crossed the threshold she yelled in the voice of a ten year old girl, "Where are they?" No hello or introduction. She wanted my finches. Earlier in the day I had advertised my finches "free to a good home" on craigslist. I should have realized that "a good home" is subjective. Probably most people think they can provide a good home for a pair of finches when they decide they want a pair of finches. I am pretty sure last night's visitors thought so. But, as "a good home" is subjective, my opinion is that they did not have a good home for the finches. I also doubt they could provide a good home for a dog, a cat or a person. Perhaps I am prejudice. Perhaps I am just a worried former finch owner. Maybe both. But if I ever have to give animals away again I am going to figure out a way to assess the quality of the animal's new home. Before they left the man said, "What kinda birds are these again?" I said, "This one is a spice finch and this one is a society finch." The woman said, "Oh, finches. That's right! I keep thinking they're quakers." I wished the finches new care-takers were Quakers. I shouted care instructions to them as they hot-footed it to their car. They did not seem interested.

Anybody want a pair of cockatiels?

Peter Hujar

This dog looks a lot like Diego the dog except for the muzzle. The photograph is by Peter Hujar.

Good free music

Y'all should get the new EP from Woom. It is free. Besides, Eben and Sara could use the money. Oh, but it is free.

New Painting

I came home yesterday, after a hard day of doing productive stuff, and found this beautiful painting on my doorstep. Thank you Bill.

Movie Review

Last night I went to the Movies to see Inception. I did not know what Inception was, in fact I thought I was still watching previews for the first 40 minutes. But before the movie I was talking to fellow Boise Artist, Bill L. about movie violence and specifically the films of Quentin Tarantino. The gentleman seated in front of us turned to talk to us: “I don’t like R rated movies and my roommate Charles was watching Inglorious Bastards ON A SUNDAY! I tried to stay in my room until it was over but, to my lasting regret, I ventured out to get a glass of diet cream soda. As I walked through the living room there was a fellow on the TV bashing in the head of a Nazi with a baseball bat while his friends cheered him on. I was like, ‘seriously Charles? On Sunday?!?!’”

Sometimes it Takes a Bad Thing to Make Things Worse

I am pretty sure that is not the expression. But I am equally sure it is truer than whatever the expression is.