MINI-PHOTO ESSAY: COUGAR MOUNTAIN ZOO

My Big Camera leads a primarily rock n' roll life. It is usually only taken out at night, to be assaulted by my sweaty little hands and dancing feet at concerts. Today I thought since, one, it was a brilliantly sunny Saturday afternoon; two, I have children who like animals; and three, I like to take any sort of photographs, that a trip to a small local zoo would be a good mid-winter outing with the 60D (that's the Canon camera model, you comedians). The Cougar Mountain Zoo is located in Issaquah (ISS-suh-qwah), Washington, a suburb of Seattle (See-AT-ll) close to Lake Sammamish (Suh-MAM-mish). Issaquah is the original home of indie band Modest Mouse and is also home to the yummy Triple XXX Drive-In.

Now that you are properly oriented, you may view some photographs of wild animals. Right after I took this photo of this lemur, he and his other lemur buddies made such a racket you'd think Governor Scott Walker decided to gut their union, too. Surely lemurs have a union.

I decided to make the Australian animals look like criminals with mugshots, in honor of all those banished Brits who were shipped off FOR LIFE to ol' Oz.

Are you ready to KNOW SOMETHING? HOLD ON!

However, you may also like to know that the Crested Crane is the Miss Universe of the crane world. I know this because they have a second sign at the zoo.

So I paid them the attention I thought they would expect, being such lovely creatures.

Closer to the lake, people like kites.

I think this is an alpaca. It could be a llama, but I think, alpaca. I'm naming it "Bruce Springsteen." You are going to have to guess why.

I call this "cool."

Birds are so prehistorically weird. I always like taking pictures of them. I'm always grateful that they don't peck my eyes out. Hitchcock's "The Birds" was a problem for me as a child. FOR A LONG TIME.

This is wise advice.

And timely!

If you squint, you can pretend that this is the exceedingly-rare One-Headed Half-White Two-Bodied Tiger.

Sigh. Pretty sure if you get the stinkeye from a reindeer, your upcoming Christmas is doomed.

Well, time to go and get a Fudge Bar! OH WAIT. D'OH!

I need to have a talk with that reindeer. See you all tomorrow.

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WISCONSIN, WALKER, AND THE WALK OUT

It's no real surprise, I suppose, in the current U.S. political climate -- a slowly-recovering economy, sharply-divided political factions, and the utter unwillingness of people to negotiate like rational, compassionate, smart adults -- that we would see something like what is occurring in my home state of Wisconsin right now. Angry Republican governors representing other angry Republicans are blatantly trying to legislate to death the things they consider to be American menaces, like AZ. Gov. Jan Brewer and Mexican immigrants, FL. Gov. Rick Scott and the homeless, and WI. Gov. Scott Walker and unions. Under the very-thin guise of budget balancing, there is a values-agenda at work here, for none of these governors have had any difficulty apportioning scarce state funds to Big Business (remember Reaganomics and "trickle-down?" Yeah, that worked. Nice homeless population explosion there, Gipper). I've just never seen anything like this. With no shame at all, and no accountability for their hypocrisy, the leaders who are supposed to protect and serve every citizen, not just the ones they like and agree with and who feed their coffers, are directly attacking the rights of poor, working- and middle-class people. With pride, even!

In the case of Gov. Walker and Wisconsin, he and the Republican state legislators are attempting to ramrod through an un-amendable bill which by removing collective bargaining rights for almost all public employee unions, would make those unions essentially powerless. No one is arguing that government spending must be curtailed. No one is arguing that all of us need to make concessions and sacrifices. No one is arguing that there are only good or evil sides -- there are corrupt government leaders and corrupt union leaders. However, we should be reminded of the conditions that used to exist here not all that long ago which helped to form American unions. In our country, the working- and middle-classes must often band together to have any kind of say against the powerful and wealthy, who often are not exactly looking out for the little guy, yet are more than willing to use them at any cost to build a bigger bank account for themselves. That's the way it is in a capitalist nation, and in human nature. Unions, for all their flaws, help to keep things balanced. So this is why we have tens of thousands of people protesting at at State Capitol in Madison, why the police present to help contain the situation are showing particular kindness (Gov. Walker allowed for police and firefighter unions to retain their collective bargaining rights in the bill, because...well...you figure that one out), why the Tea Party feels the need to start bussing in Walker supporters, and why Democratic legislators chose to actually leave the state temporarily to stop the bill from passing.

I spent my first 22 years as a proud resident of Wisconsin, and the daughter of two Republicans, by the way. It was a great state to grow up in. Wisconsin was known for good schools, progressive government, hard-working and friendly, down-to-earth people who formed strong, vibrantly active communities, and yes, we always had high taxes. I went to school with farm kids who got up before dawn and "lake kids" who had mini-bikes and snowmobiles and speedboats, the sons and daughters of Pabst and Miller brewery workers, hardware shop owners, doctors and retail clerks and homemakers. And we all pretty much got along, despite our different circumstances. We all loved our beautiful state, even when it was 10 degrees below zero or people claimed we had funny accents. What happened?

Do you know any wealthy teachers or nurses? Gee, I sure don't. It grinds my guts to hear people like Walker try to malign them as overpaid malingerers who use their unions to ruin the State budget. Are there overpaid lazy teachers and nurses? Yes, as there are rotten people in any profession. But come on! Why do most people (and let's get extra-real here: those people are mostly women) go into service fields where they know by the nature of that work they will never be rich, and always work many many more hours than they will ever be paid for? WHY? Because they want to help, and feel that they can. And Gov. Walker wants to gut their ability to be heard. This is beyond shameful; it is inexcusable. Gov. Walker rejected the union proposal to cut worker benefits. Gov. Walker wants more: the destruction of their unions.

This is the grave mistake that Scott Walker has made: you can, as a politician, get away with a whole lot from a public that is so disjointed and disparate, who are numbed by phonies and crappy media and fighting, who just want to live their lives in peace and quiet. But, by god, you try to take away any American's voice...you are going to hear about it. Loud and clear, and forever.

So I stand with those who do what I can't. I didn't have the patience and energy to be a teacher. I didn't have the compassion and steadiness to be a nurse. I didn't have the bravery or strength to become a police officer or firefighter. Yet my life has been in the hands of them all. I have depended upon their selflessness and dedication every day. I count on their skills and judgment. I will trust them first.

If I were in Madison right now, and I wish that I were, I would take a few hundred bucks out of my bank account and I would buy as many hot coffees and yummy donuts as I could for the people who stand at the Capitol and won't back down. I would tell them how proud I am of them, to stay strong, and let them know that so many people are behind them all over the country. I can't change how we all got in this mess or why, I can't wave a wand and make things all better, and I can't change the minds and hearts of those who are determined to see others crushed.

But I can write this post. Yes, I can.

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I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE MONKEY RESTAURANT!

Tonight we went out to eat some conveyor-belt sushi, usually a fun and easy meal out with the kids. Food comes by constantly, there's no waiting, the kids can try this and that of new and interesting-looking plates without having to order a whole entree, etc. It works.

On the way over, I told the kids about a restaurant in Japan that features monkeys with human face masks as servers. It's OK...go ahead and re-read that last sentence, I'll wait.





Anyway, it's entirely true and creeps me out to nightmare-level depth. And of course, the kids thought this was the best dining idea EVER, and immediately started planning a trip to Japan. Me and my big salmon-stuffed mouth.

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ODE TO BILLIE BOY NAMED SUE, OR HOW I LEARNED ABOUT THE SOUTH

It should be remembered that children acquire information from all available sources, not just from school, or their parents, or their assorted pulpit yodelers. As I was listening to the radio the other day, it occurred to me that four things made up my complete understanding of the American South. As a kid growing up in Wisconsin in the 1960s, which made me by default Almost Canadian, I had no contact with that area of the country. The most-south I had ever been was Indianapolis. So, via my TV and radio and magazines, these were the four things that taught me about the exotic land where people talked real funny and everyone was getting in trouble all the time:

1. The Civil Rights Movement, as seen on the nightly news and LIFE Magazine. What I learned: White Southern people hated Negro or Colored Southern people a whole lot (this was well before the terms African-American or Black were in common use). They hated them so much they didn't want them to vote or go to school or be in the same places as white folks. Negro or Colored Southern people were very unhappy about this.



2. Televised situation comedy "The Beverly Hillbillies." What I learned: Southerners were so backwards and stupid that you had to teach them how to eat with a spoon. They also liked rope belts.



3. Televised musical variety show "Hee Haw." What I learned: Southerners were goofy, lazy, gossipy dumbasses who liked to wear overalls or sparkly suits or short shorts, had huge hair, told terrible jokes, and played guitar well.



4. The crossover country-to-pop epic story song. Let's take a few of these one-by-one, all from the time period from 1967-1970...

"A Boy Named Sue," Johnny Cash. What I learned: Southerners were foul-tempered violent criminals with twisted senses of humor. Fathers are voluntarily absent.



"Ode To Billie Joe," Bobbie Gentry. What I learned: Southerners like to shovel food down their pieholes while discussing suicide and enjoy throwing suspicious litter into large rivers. Fathers die of viruses.



"Harper Valley, P.T.A.," Jeannie C. Riley. What I learned: Southerners are judgmental snarky hypocrites who frown over miniskirts and don't like to close their blinds all the way shut. Fathers are absent (unknown reason).



"Patches," Clarence Carter. What I learned: Southerners were unlucky in agriculture, financially destitute, and often employed child labor. Fathers completely die.



So you see by the time I was MissEight's age, I had pretty solid ideas about my Confederate neighbors, which remained uncorrected by no one, mainly because I never told anyone about my impressions and that the stuff about the big hair and the overalls was totally true anyway.

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PICTURE PAST-PERFECT: PHOTOGRAPHER IRINA WERNING'S "BACK TO THE FUTURE"

There are so so so so so so so so SO many talented photographers out there, but every so often I feel like I MUST pass on to you someone doing something especially cool, clever, amazing, and impressive. Irina Werning has just dropped my smiling jaw to the floor with her "Back To The Future" project. Here is her brief introduction:

I love old photos. I admit being a nosey photographer. As soon as I step into someone else’s house, I start sniffing for them. Most of us are fascinated by their retro look but to me, it’s imagining how people would feel and look like if they were to reenact them today... A few months ago, I decided to actually do this. So, with my camera, I started inviting people to go back to their future.

A cute idea, yes, but Werning's execution of the recreations is so unbelievably expert that it takes cute up about 100 notches to WOW.  I am just astounded and fascinated and delighted and want to know more more more more how each set was done, every step of the process. I can't even imagine, because I know just enough about the technical side of things to know that the dedication, patience, and skill to do this is actually quite something. I thought for a minute how I would try to do one of these the way she has done them, and it's pretty daunting. Everything is accounted for, from the background to the clothing, the photographic style, the individual film look, the lighting, the expressions...well, it's just all past my skill set. Here are some examples of her work:

If this isn't a book-and-gallery-worthy project, I don't know what is! Click here to see more.  Kudos, Irina!

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MISS EIGHT ON ASSES

(Driving home with MissEight this evening, and Beck's "Jack-Ass" is on the radio with the title on the dash display.)

MissEight: Why would Beck write a song about a male donkey?

Me: What??

MissEight: "Jack" and the word I can't say is a male donkey. "Jill" and the word I can't say is a female donkey. Why is that something anyone would write about?

Me: (smiling) Well. I don't know. He's a very creative guy.

MissEight: I guess.

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GARAGE ROCKED: MY OLD CONCERT T-SHIRTS, RECOVERED

I'm generally "that guy" who buys a t-shirt at whatever concert I attend. Well, at least I used to be, because I've been to a whole lot of shows at this point in my life and one can only have so many shirts. A few of them I think have long since been retired to Goodwill, but I did keep quite a few. Except...I didn't know where they were. I had boxed them up as they either went out of fashion or I got too fat to wear them (childbearing/vats of chocolate milk years, bah!), but I couldn't remember what I had done with them. Until this week, when a lightbulb went off in my head and I thought, "DEHHH, I bet that giant plastic container full of T-SHIRTS in the garage are THOSE T-SHIRTS. And they were! I was so happy to see them again, even if they smelled like garage. It was nice to time-travel back to the late 70s/early 80s just looking at them all. It was even nicer to realize that I can fit into almost all of them again -- a few are so small they will fit MissEight. I will carefully wash the garage out of them and put them back into rotation in my closet again. I took some photos of them today for you -- please forgive the wrinkles because THEY'VE BEEN IN A BOX FOR YEARS. I don't iron anyway. Let's go!

Most of them, natch-rah-lee, are Kinks shirts. If a shirt said KINKS on it, I bought it. OR, as we can see, before I could FIND a real Kinks shirt, I MADE this very very very sad-but-charming little shirt and plopped my favorite Milwaukee radio station on the back. Oh, you kid.

This one was from the 1979 "Low Budget" tour, which probably had the worst Kinks cover art of all time. This is me in the shirt the after the Milwaukee Auditorium show, August 12, 1979. Oh, you kid.

Here's some nice classic Kinks shirts. I don't remember why on earth I had my name on the back of one of them, but I will bet you anything that I would be really embarrassed if I did remember. Anyone?

"Double Life" was the rumored title of the Kinks 1980 double-live LP "One For The Road" for many months. I liked that better. There's a bootleg shirt with the wrong title, and what I think was the official shirt. Don't smoke, kiddies!

Another bootleg "OFTR" shirt sold outside the Chicago Uptown Theater gig. Here's the back...

...and here's the front. Sigh.

I had tickets to see the Kinks in Milwaukee in 1977 on the "Sleepwalker" tour, but got over-excited at school and fell down some stairs in my STUPID F-ING PLATFORM SHOES THAT DAY, broke my ankle, and missed the show. Hysterics ensued. A few years later, my dear friend Kevin gave me his Sleepwalker shirt. It is now extremely bleached-out and distressed, and therefore terrifically back in fashion for it.

The 1981/82 official tour shirts. Garish or cool? I don't know. Ray Davies looks pretty geeky there.

Brief December '84 tour. What I recall from the Roseland? MTV DJ Nina Blackwood confused my Wisconsin accent for Dutch, Cyndi Lauper got booed off the stage, and, desperately thirsty, I scooped up some water from a bus tray filled with melting ice, sucked it down, and within a few hours was as sick as I have ever been in my LIFE. Pal Jim did the same and was similarly affected. RAWK N ROLLLLLLL!

Oh, the days seeing Joe "King" Carrasco and the Crowns were just some of the best times I ever had. Everyone was so fun and kind, and we all became friends. I've known Joe now for over 30 years! I miss seeing all of them; they were and are very special to me.

This one was signed by the band members at that time: Joe, bassist George Reiff, Marcelo on the accordion, Bobby Balderama on guitar (an original member of ? and the Mysterians!) and drummer Dick Ross, who quotes one of our favorite songs of the time, "Mr. Egyptian" by Jon Wayne. NO GO DIGGY DIE! HA!

 I don't think many people got to see The Jam live in the U.S. I did, in Bolingbrook, IL. in what I think was a deserted mall or something. Or was it Joliet? Something like that.

I saw the Rolling Stones at concrete arena horror the Rosemont Horizon I think all three nights; two for sure. The only thing I recall is that I couldn't see shit all on the flat floor, and I couldn't see shit all from far away in the rafters. I've seen this shirt for sale recently at Sotheby's. LOL.

Ooh, a '75 Rolling Stones shirt. I don't know where this came from.

I don't think I have ever missed an Elvis Costello tour since 1979. Oddly, this seems to be the only t-shirt I have.

Shorts break! These are some teeny-ass shorts I had when I was maybe around 12/13 years old, from a Wrangler line put out by pop artist Peter Max. To give you an idea of how sizing has changed over the years, in eyeing this up now, they would be a Size 2 or 3, no more. What does the tag say? "Size 11/12!"

A sweatshirt from my favorite Chicago club.

Cool Edie Sedgwick, Zippy the Pinhead, and "Faster Pussycat Kill Kill!!" shirts that I must have purchased from Wax Trax in Chicago, which was my favorite record store.

Pee Wee Herman! I was right up front for that show, dressed entirely in neon-colored clothing with platinum-blonde hair. I don't think I looked out of place.

Remnant of punk or the first of the ironic t-shirts?

This shirt came along with my new Ovation tobacco-burst deep-bowl acoustic guitar that I got for my 18th  birthday here. That's chocolate cake on my face there, comedians.

Finally, this is one I love, for two different reasons. First, it's from the Kinks' Konk Studios in London, given to me when I first visited, which was a really nice thing to do because there weren't many of them. Second, is that this is the shirt I was wearing when I first encountered Chrissie Hynde. Minding my own business backstage, peeling an orange that Ray had brought out for me because for some strange reason he thought I never ate anything and often gave me pieces of fruit because of this belief, Ms. Hynde approached me, and got right in my citrus-filled face. She sneered at me with contempt. Perhaps she had wanted that orange; I have no idea. I was harmless, quiet, and geeky/farm-y. She spoke to me, spitting venom.

"Oh, I bet you think you are hot shit in your Konk shirt, huh?"

What??? I spent a second in shock, then another getting MAD, and then another thinking to myself, "Do. Not. Cause. Trouble." So...the best thing to give a troll? Nothing. My response after this consideration was to stare at her for a moment, flat and emotionless, and answer, "Oh. Right," and then I turned my back on her and walked away.

And with that, it's time to start the laundry.

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