Five-0: me and Sharon Stone

Two weeks from today I pass the half century mark. I'm not quite sure which is more disturbing at the moment, the notion of actually having survived (so far) to limp toward this milestone or that I share the exact same birthday with Sharon Stone.

And then there are the obvious parallels:

• March 10, 1958 fell on a Monday. So does March 10, 2008.
• In 1958 the Army fired the first U.S. satellite into orbit. In 2008 we fired a rocket to blow a satellite out of orbit.
• A Republican president was mucking about in the Middle East. Duh.
• The first ever Grammy Awards were handed out and promptly forgotten - a tradition stronger than ever at 50.
  
• and on March 11 Charles Van Doren's winning streak on "21" comes to a screeching halt, scandal and disgrace soon to follow (I have always despised game shows).

Other than the usual threat of nuclear annihilation and far too many B-movies on the subject, it seems a pretty uneventful year.

We're gonna need a bigger boat

Damn.

Funny how you don't really miss them until they're really gone.

I'd lost track of Roy Scheider these last years as he scaled back his work load and took the occasional character piece on prime time or - sadly - sub-par features.







But for me and millions more who had our asses in the theaters and the shit scared out of us by Jaws, he's always Chief Brody.

Down that Dixie Highway

Stuff I forgot to post because of a condition known as Holidaze...

Seasons greetings from NASCAR Country: the Marquis in front of The Track Too Tough To Tame. I remember Richard Petty before he was even a prince. Or a frog...



Dixie Highways don't come anymore Dixie than this: the Old Charleston Highway near Oaklyn Plantation in Darlington County, SC.
The plantation now raises grass-fed beef and free range chicken.
Mmmm, tasty!

Pink Nightmares and Bigger Bangs

More than a month since the last post. Not much of a start, I'll admit. I blame it on the Silly Season. And relatives. Always the relatives. I vaguely recall being reasonably enthusiastic about Christmas once upon a time. I'm pretty sure I was doing a Ralphie back then, pining away for a Red Rider BB gun.


Speaking of gifts, this is just about the coolest thing I've ever seen for us hardcore Stones fans to drool over. Maybe your own mini Keith would be cooler, provided, of course you speak Keith (It's a lot like Esperanto, apparently)and can afford all those tiny, custom-made guitars.

Meanwhile, can't wait for the Imax release of Scorsesse's collaboration with the band (love this shot). Next best thing to actually paying through the nose - among other orifices - to see this show. So have some sympathy and some taste.

Northwest Snapshots I

I'll try and avoid a rant about this with a sample of my favorite shots/northwest memories.


Inevitable rant sure to follow, however.

Muhammad's Teddy Bear

In light of Gillian Gibbons' recent Sudanese nightmare, my faithful old Teddy Bear has decided to abandon his plans to convert to Islam. He's issued an open appeal to his peers to follow suit in a show of Teddy Solidarity.

He'd also like to point out that while it may be blasphemous to name an animal after The Prophet:

• he and his fellows are actually inanimate objects
  
• the children in Ms. Gibbons class (mostly Muslim) named the bear in question, not Ms. Gibbons
• demanding her execution for the incident might appear to be, well, insane
  
• it's the f****** 21st century already

Hmm.

Teddy is now pursuing an interest in The Liberace Church of Latter Day Sequins, which, frankly I find somewhat disturbing.

Reliquias del camino...

Taos, NM may be the complete opposite of Seattle – at least in October.

Thank God.

The Sun barely quits shining at night. Clouds are apparently illegal (except during ski season), rain is strictly regulated to fall in exact amounts during peak chile season, and vibrant color a state mandate.
The state motto claims this to be “the land of enchantment.” Indeed.

We are spellbound in the dazzling light, stumbling about in the footsteps of native peoples, conquistadors, plunderers and padres, outlaws and killers – desperados under the eaves? - cattle barons, writers, artists and a rogues' gallery of current characters.

Soak it all up with the help of an ultimate margarita (and the spirit of Georgia O'Keefe, among others) at the legendary Adobe Bar in the Taos Inn.

The guys watching football at the bar in the shot above are all Native American except the dude in the blue cap. He was stranded in town on a snowy Sunday with no friends and wad of cash. A wad of cash helps make friends in a hurry, even if you're the lone Non-Native American at the bar - as long as you're buying the shots of Patron Silver. Ironic twist: they're all rooting for the Cowboys.

Testing. One, two, three...

Would you buy a car without first taking a test drive?

Hell no.

Consider this a test run. A shakedown to see how this blah, blah, blah-ging thing works, looks and feels.

Hey, here's a picture of a martini. A vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred. Natch. It's not a very good shot. In fact, it's not really a shot. It's a snap and a pretty poor one at that. But it's part of this test drive and I really want a martini even though everyone knows you shouldn't drink and drive.

Cheers.