As we were driving along the highway yesterday, my son snapped these shots of the car passing us.
It’s A Dog’s Life
Category: Pics
Ferrah: The Arabic Word For Joy
In a couple of days, bloggers everywhere will be posting about the fourth anniversary of Michael Jackson’s passing. Many less will mention Farrah Fawcett, who passed on the same day. Farrah, who changed the spelling of her first name from Ferrah, was a hair and fashion icon to girls of the 1970s, despite the fact that she only spent one season on Charlie’s Angels. Although her legacy does not impact the world in the way that Jackson’s does, I wanted to give her a shout out.
We can see these images in our minds: Farrah with the healthy glow, Farrah on the skateboard, Farrah in the infamous Mexican blanket swimsuit poster, too cliche for me to post. Long before The Burning Bed, the ups and downs with long-time lover Ryan O’ Neal, and the crazy stint on Letterman–the same year she turned 50 and posed in Playboy–she was a stunner. And presumably sane.
Here is mid-1970s Farrah with Wella Balsam hair, voluminous and sexy enough to rock right now in 2013.
Early 1970s Farrah flashes her Ultra Brite smile.
Even before the feathered locks, 1960s Farrah was a beauty, .
Like so many others, cancer claimed you. So rest in peace, Farrah. The world has not forgotten you.
For a glimpse of her doing her best Marilyn Monroe voice, see her “cream” Joe Namath in his Noxzema commercial:
We’re Halfway To Christmas!
Here are some trees that folks decorate along the highway during the Christmas season. Do they do that in your neck of the woods?
Dog Spar
I’m not sure these two fools are worth the cost of Trifexis.
Dillo Dangerously Dodges Death
What a lovely day!
Whatever this is, it’s blooming. The sun is shining.
When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a leprosy-carrying varmint!
Run, critter, run!
That armor won’t protect you from…uh-oh.
Looks like Buck is in it to win it. You best hightail it!
Yes! Forget Chicken Soup for the Soul; we’re having armadillo stew for dinner tonight, folks!
Would that taste better with Old Bay or Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning?
Oh, snap! Escaped into the pile of used tires again! Better luck next time, old boy.
Old People Wang Is Auspicious
Is it me–or does all WordPress spam read JUST like this sign? Spammers have a terrible grasp of English. It hurts my head to wade through the spam to make sure it’s not legit. “Your site my heart happy such good to blog us!” WTF? It’s like going to www.engrish.com, but without ever having to leave blogland.
Come again?
I didn’t even realize male scholars WERE nursed….
4th Annual Readers’ Poll April 1988
Today we delve into the bowels of one of my former teen mag subscriptions, “Star Hits,” for the 4th Annual Readers’ Poll Results. The cover reveals the top stars of April 1988. Check out who’s included in the Most Promising New Acts.
Duran Squared’s own John Taylor topped the list of most desirables, with those pouty lips and bedroom eyes.
George Michael’s video was voted the 4th best video of 1987. As it turned out, the limelit half of Wham! (Bam, thank you, Sir, may I have another?) actually did NOT want pretty Asian model’s sex. Not remotely. Not even in a filthy public restroom with e-coli-covered stalls.
The lyrics should have given us a clue:
There’s things that you guess and things that you know
There’s boys that you can trust and girls that you don’t
Girls are untrustworthy, huh? Perhaps that should have been included on the Bummer of the Year. Michael Jackson’s comeback was determined to be the biggest bummer. And Iran/Contra was number four??
But the most interesting reads are what the stars themselves chose. Siouxsie Sioux’s most desirable pick was Yul Brynner. The King and I? At least she didn’t have the nerve to list herself, as Andy Fletcher did.
And note the difference in tone maturity level between the choices of former GoGo’s singer Belinda Carlisle and the Beastie Boys (R.I.P. MCA).
Who knew Belinda was so mad about Fred Astaire, and so rocked by the PTL scandal?(R.I.P. Tammy Faye Bakker.) And The Beastie Boys chose Sssss-Samantha Fox as the BEST female singer? Is that because she sang from her diaphragm so well? I won’t hate on her; naughty girls need love, too.
All Aboard For Summer Vacation!
Truck Stop Weary, Numero Quatro
Hands down, this is the guy. This is the guy you want leaning intimately into you, inviting you to be in cahoots with him, to share the secrets he’s learned on the road.
Forgive me. I was premature in my assumption. THIS is the guy.
Yes, the one with the mutton chops, driving his Rebel Flag-decked out Bandit up to California. Is he sucking a Lemonhead? Is he dipping Skoal? He’s a man of mystery. I just feel a strong sense of… Gary Sandy surrounding him. Yes, that’s it. He must be related to Gary Sandy. You know, Andy Travis from WKRP?
Whoa. Is it hot in here? I’m feeling faint, and it’s not a touch of Johnny Fever. Believe me. Okay, time to refocus. Surely, there’s some trucker in this book who can compete with an aging sitcom star.
Um. No. That is NOT the ticket. Perhaps this young fella?
His head says Yankee, but his body says Confederacy. Who has time for a cocksure whippersnapper with an identity complex? Not me. I haven’t got time for the pain. Okay, let’s spin the wheel. Surely there’s SOMEONE.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH! Make it stop!
Youth League Roller Derby
What else is there for a toddler to do in the aftermath of Nazi-ravaged Warsaw, Poland but skate her cares away in the rubble and cess?*
*My best-guess caption
Dream Big, They Said
Here it is in a nutshell: the reality of 1:30am bar life. Verbena sees the 2:00am last call on the horizon. Semisonic will play “Closing Time,” and the jukebox will stop, the lights will come up, and the illusion will shatter. But in this brief moment, with Lloyd’s arm around her, his warm bourbony breath on her cheeks, and fiery hot nuts so accessible and so amazingly affordable, life is good.
This is one of the most telling portraits from Henry Horenstein’s book HonkyTonk, a book of fascinating black and white portraits he took mostly from the country and western scene in the 1970s. It’s hard to narrow a brief selection down, but there are sites that showcase many of them, such as http://clampart.com/2012/07/honky-tonk-portraits-of-country-music-2/#/13. However, I prefer to leaf through the book itself and create my own back stories.
Is Earl waxing nostalgic for his salad days, missing the boys in his high school rockabilly band, before the tattoos and the Kool habit? Before Arlene cheated with Vernon, his supposed best friend, and then a twister took Vernon to his maker, and isn’t that sweet justice?
Lookin’ for love in all the right places.
Last call indeed.
Don’t Mess With DPS
Today’s post is Part II in the ongoing bliss that is discovering the Dept of Public Safety’s pictorial heritage. Pictured above is a badass Texas Ranger in an armored vehicle. As I lack a penis, I have no desire to commandeer said vehicle or even go near it. I will speak for most ladies who have no desire to appropriate or operate any sort of tankylooking thing. But those of you who do might want to take a little spin in it.
Police officers have a noble history of enforcing the law, which often means sucking the fun out of your good times. I would have let this guy go, since his car is so boss, but they have quotas to fill.
And don’t try to outrun them; they will go all Ponch and Jon on your bippy.
The Texas Rangers are part of a major division within the Texas DPS, who investigate serious crimes. They also will suck the wind out of a criminal’s sails. Cross the border to nasty swampland-subpar-highway-system Louisiana if you want to play craps; there’s no gambling in Texas.
And weed is still illegal, too–no matter what the dreadheaded, tiedyed-shirt-wearing potheads would have you believe. I don’t have glaucoma nor a criminal history, so I don’t get up close with Mary Jane, but I didn’t think it looked so much like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree.
And don’t think they’ll let you off with a warning. This Amish guy just galloped in from Pennsylvania, and he is exhausted, so he won’t think twice about putting a bullet in your gut. And he’s not the only one.
When Sergeant Guthrie smells something fishy, it is on. It is SO on.
And Sergeant Hall? Some say he’s certifiably insane, a bonafide 5150. I heard he picks possums off the highway, and eats them snout and all. Don’t sass him. He may take you to a Mexican prison if he’s feeling ornery. And that’s just for jaywalking.
And don’t let Officer Lowery fool you. Word on the street is he used to be the lethal injectioner at Huntsville. He thought sterilizing needles was a waste of time. So do I, for that matter.
Now look, they’re not all gruff. Officers Turner & Powell run the night shift, so that might be the perfect time to rob a 7-11. Just saying.
But you won’t run forever. Justice will have its day. They will see to it. Once information is sent from the transceiver, all hope is gone.
And trust me, you do NOT want them sicking Investigator Padgett on your ass. He’s a superhero, and I don’t mean his demon eyes. His power is oft compared to that of Spiderman, only his wide lapel shoots out disco balls filled with elephant tranquilizer. You don’t want to wake up from that sleep, ripe for interrogation.
Am I right or Amarillo?
(All of the above is purely for humorous purposes and in no way meant to disrespect any officer of the law. So please don’t sic Padgett on me…)
I Don't Get It 