Sorry if you missed the visit to Toonerville yesterday (technical problems conspired to knock me "off the air). Here are a couple featuring the Skipper that are still funny, even a day later.
"Folk Art grew from below. It was a spontaneous, autochthonous expression of the people, shaped by themselves, pretty much without the benefit of High Culture, to suit their own needs. Mass Culture is imposed from above. It is fabricated by technicians hired by businessmen; its audiences are passive consumers, their participation limited to the choice between buying and not buying.... Folk Art was the people's own institution, their private little garden walled off from the great formal park of their masters' High Culture. But Mass Culture breaks down the wall, integrating the masses into a debased form of High Culture and thus becoming an instrument of political domination."
Three shots from my last day in Italy back in 2008, which I spent wandering around Rome. Above is a busking sax player under the gateway entrance to the Villa Borghese Park.
Here's part of the ancient forum, or what's left of it a couple thousand years past its prime.
A TV cameraman prepares to broadcast an orchestral concert from the Piazza del Populi.
Boy I hope this isn't premature, but I think winter might finally be over. So, in honor of its passing, here are three pictures I've been working on to celebrate its passing.
These were all taken shortly after last Christmas when I was back in Western New York. The first is from a hike out at Hunters Creek, the other two from Delaware Park. I'm anticipating visiting both places again this summer, and if I can, maybe I'll try to match these images with "green" versions in a couple of months.
I was trying to think of a strip to feature today that my Mom has mentioned as a favorite. Flipping through the directory of the I Love Comix Archive, I came across a section devoted to Ella Cinders, which sounded like a possible candidate. These go back to 1937, and I'm pretty sure I've heard Mom mentioning that this was one that she read as a little girl. So Mom, enjoy this trip down memory lane (and if I'm wrong about it being an old favorite, well, I'll try again next year ;-).

There's been a subtle (well, maybe not so subtle) undercurrent of baseball themed posts this past week, so here's another one. Here are three pictures I've been playing around with taken in past years at Buffalo Bisons games. Each has been cropped and processed to try and tease out something that makes them a little more interesting than they were on first look.
I'll let you decide if these "work." But I think they capture something of the action of the sport, and look a bit more artful than when in their original state.
Here you see Maria, Ben, and Natalie (and some other obscured individuals) on a hayride during the Powers family reunion a few years back. The question is, who was sitting to Natalie's right? Lots of possibilities here, so take a guess, and put it in the comments section for all to see.
Three pictures taken on my visit to Venice back in the Fall of 2008 (each somewhat enhanced from the original shot through the magic of PhotoShop). It was overcast and rainy for the whole time we were there, but that just adds a melancholy air which works okay with a picture like the one above.
This is what constitutes an "alley" in Venice-- a narrow canal through which the gondoliers pass on their way to the Grand Canal.
The wide plaza that lines the waterfront on the edge of the city. The shock of blue in the middle left of the picture is a giant James Bond billboard in Piazza San Marco, across from the Doge's Palace, where the rulers of the city lived for several centuries.
“I would rather be ashes than dust! I
Okay, you kind of do have to be something of a baseball fan to appreciate this website: Emo Juan Uribe, but if you are I don't know how it can fail to make you laugh. I don't know if there's some reason why they pick on poor Juan Uribe-- maybe it's just his furtive expression in the recurring photo-- but that's part of its sublime genius. Especially cool is that there seems to be something new there every couple of hours. Check it out.
Way back in 1982, I discovered The Bill James Baseball Abstract, which was a true revelation. I was already a baseball fan, but James turned me into a thinking fan, helping me to make all kinds of connections that ultimately provided a framework for working out problems that far transcended my approach to the national pastime. James introduced me to a couple of key concepts about processing information that ultimately made it possible (maybe inevitable) that I would return to school and successfully pursue postgraduate studies. That's really not an exaggeration: while James is often described as a numbers guy, the reality is that the numbers are only one of the tools employed to try and understand something infinitely complex-- and if you start to see that it is possible, through a reasoned and analytic approach to examining available evidence (and acknowledging that we don't always have all the evidence needed to be conclusive), to make some sense of the ins and outs of baseball, well, then it's a small stretch to apply those same concepts to thinking about history or politics or just about anything. To put it another way, despite all the statistics he employed, I could generally ignore all the metrics and just marvel at how the guy framed questions, worked out his methodology, and came up with answers, all of which was explained in straightforward and colorful language, rich in insight and humor. The Abstracts (and their successors, the annual Baseball Books and later Player Rating Books) were just plain entertaining, even as they promoted the idea of turning things over to examine them from a different angle. Over the years, the annuals came to an end (there is still an annual Baseball Register like compendium of stats, but that's not really the same). More recently, James has continued to produce idiosyncratic essays on a web site (which requires a subscription), and Solid Fool's Gold is an anthology of some of the work produced there. I have to admit, as entertaining as the first couple of essays were, they seemed just a little too oriented towards the numbers, and I wondered if James has lost his touch to transcend the stats. Luckily, that turned out not to be the case; in fact it seemed that the essays got stronger and stronger as I proceeded through the book (a few of which were only tangentially related to baseball at all, such as his analysis of the effectiveness of traffic-light cameras). The essay entitled "Shakespeare and Verlander" is one peak, wherein James speculates on the development of talent, concluding that America today is a lot more interested in promoting athletes than literary giants-- not an earth-shaking conclusion, I grant you, but the way James arrives at it is truly thought provoking. Another essay called "TSA" examines the consequences when competing virtues come into conflict with one another, all in the service of trying to understand the intrusive new measures adopted by airport security forces. Perhaps best of all is the penultimate essay "Battling Expertise With the Power of Ignorance" which is in my view quite brilliant. Here's a representative quote: "What is critical to understanding is humility and cooperation. What is critical to gaining more understanding of the world is to learn to accept and appreciate the vastness of our ignorance, and to understand that one can only survive in a sea of ignorance by working with others to make our small lifeboat a little bit stronger. Only by embracing our limitless ignorance can one position oneself to increase the store of knowledge." Bill James is often pointed to (sometimes derogatorily) as a statistician. What he really is, is a philosopher, and one well worth reading whether you're a baseball fan or not.
I took a lot of pictures of surfers on my recent trip to California, most of which are pretty mundane, or capture the moment just before or after some elegant swirling movement (including a lot of just a tip of a board as the surfer disappears beneath the wave). But some turned out okay, including these four.
I like the action aspect of this sport, along with the colors of sea and sky which have an "endless summer" kind of feel (the name of a great movie about surfing, by the way).
As winter lingers over Montana (today was gorgeous, but they're predicting snow again for tomorrow), I also like to recall how great it was to be out on the beach in shorts and sandals enjoying the warmth as well as the action out on the waves.
"Although most people never overcome the habit of berating the world for their difficulties, those who are too weak to make a stand against reality have no choice but to obliterate themselves by identifying with it. They are never rationally reconciled to civilization. Instead, they bow to it, secretly accepting the identity of reason and domination, of civilization and the ideal, however much they may shrug their shoulders."
Yesterday morning dawned sunny and bright, so I decided to head over to Bannack to take some pictures (something I haven't had much opportunity to do of late). I've posted pictures from Bannack here before, but this time, I went with a different strategy: to focus on the little details (sort of inspired by my sister Sally's macro tendencies). So, for example, my eye was caught by the corroded old gas can under the window above.
Likewise, I tried to capture the texture of the scraped and scratched door seen above, along with the interesting interplay of color where the orange wood was showing through.
More corroded metal, this piece languishing by corner of an old front porch on a miner's cabin. I thin the rusted metal used to be a bucket.
This is a more traditional (for me) shot. I liked how the barn stood out against the blue sky.
I love when Charles Schulz did baseball strips in Peanuts, and I especially loved it when he tied it to the era with reference to real players. This is probably because when he did that, it was during the period when I was first becoming a fan of the game, so the names (Willie Mays, Orlando Cepeda, etc.) carry a special nostalgic kick. In this case, the punchline's pretty funny too.