Rambling Rhodes

Some Of My Not-So-Famous-But-Should-Be Pictures

Just a sojourn into my continued plight as a frustrated yet hopeful photographer. Click the pictures for larger images.

UPDATE: Thanks to Donna, I decided to add captions or, more appropriately, descriptions, to these photos.

This is a bridge just outside of Winona, Minn., where I went to college. Actually, it's a bridge right outside of a town called Stockton, which is right outside of Winona. I took this picture one weekend when I was feeling nostalgic for my college years. It was a very cold fall day.

This image was best captured in black and white. I know because I took a color picture of it too and. . . ehhh. This is on the Mississippi, that long river with the long name. I took this on a warm October day while pleasure cruising on my good friend's boat.

This was taken on Island Lake near Northome, Minn., off the deck of my grandparents' cabin on July 18th 2001. My grandpa was battling cancer at the time. He died in late Sept. that year, not long after much of the innocence of America died also. This picture has so much significance to me, I can't even begin to tell you.

This was taken in October of last year, during a sojourn to my parents' home in Harmony, Minn. I took a lot of pictures of that damned rainbow, probably because it's the dream of everyone who has ever held a camera in their hand to catch the perfect "rainbow" picture. It may not be perfect, but it's okay. I was on the cordless phone with my mother in Tokyo at the time I took this, and as I told my mother what I was taking a picture of, she related one of her favorite stories about me and rainbows. Apparently, when I was a youngster, I returned from a walk with mother in the rain and asked her, "Mom, the next time we walk in the rain, can we walk on the rainbow?" God but I was cute.

This tree is just South of Chatfield, Minn., and, unless you're an astute motorist, chances are you'll miss it entirely, which I did for most of my life until one spring day I noticed it out of the corner of my eye. I always wonder how that tree ended up growing into the ground like that. A strong wind? A cow itching itself? Who knows? All I know is that it's a perfect arch, a freak of nature that's also nearly perfect natural art.

I was hired to take pictures of a wedding when this vista caught my eye. It's like the magic eye fad that took hold in the mid-90s. The rows just kind of play with your vision. This is just outside of Preston, Minn.

This was taken on the Big Island of Hawaii during my first and only flight in a helicopter. Maybe it was the motion sickness, or maybe it was the fact it was Dec., 2001, and 9/11 was still fresh in my mind, but for whatever reason, I was incredibly airsick when I took this picture. Frankly, it's amazing it's as in focus as it is. It turned out great though, almost like the terrain of a foreign world.

Another picture taken during that same Hawaii trip. This one captures the volcano of Mauna Loa, on which an American military base is located. My good friend, Jim, a former marine, once had to hike up that mountain from the airport at sea level. It was common for his fellow marchers to faint en route and require what was known as "the silver bullet" which consisted of having their trousers pulled down and having a thermometer stuck in their butts to gauge their internal temperatures. I asked Jim if he ever passed out on the way up. "No," he replied. "And pretty much for that exact reason."

The only really nice sand beach on the Big Island is called Hapuna Beach, which is located about 30 minutes from every interesting town, but it's a great beach, probably one of the nicest on all the Hawaiian islands. This, I think, is a fledgling banyan tree overlooking Hapuna Beach. The waters of Hawaii are some of the most brilliant emerald blue imaginable. Then again, there may be others just as brilliant, but I've not yet visited them.

Another Big Island picture, in the town of Kona. I took this picture as an afterthought, walking back to the condo after dinner. I didn't like it at first, but it's grown on me more and more. The reflection of the sun, particularly, at the bottom of the picture, is something unique to digital photography that can't be replicated on traditional film. At least I don't think it can.

I took this picture last December, during a whale watching excursion that encountered no whales, but plenty of dolphins. At first, I was annoyed by the presence of the bow of the boat being in the picture, but then I started realizing that it, too, looked like the snout of a dolphin. Opinions may vary on this one.

Oh, brother. Hard to explain this one. It was taken in Colorado, during a visit to my brother and sister-in-law. I took this picture, initially, because of the irony of the one dead tree amongst all the dead ones. Then, when I looked at it full side, it seemed almost haunting. You can't tell it from the picture, but it was snowing like all hell at the time, yet there's the orb of the sun, peering through it all. It's so dark and mysterious and bleak. One of my most favorite photographic "mistakes."

This is Bartlett Lake, in Northome, Minn., basically in my grandparent's backyard. Remember the picture up above, of the dock? Well, this one was taken the night I arrived in Northome in late Sept., 2001, to observe my grandfather's funeral. I'd seen that lake countless times during my life, but never in the fall. I'd always seen it during the summer season of plenty and the winter season of Christmas. That was the first time I saw it in autumn. A time of beauty in death. Appropriate, really.

Life can be so poignant, if you take the time to notice.

Talking Out Of My Ass

Last night, I received yet another e-mail from some disgruntled blog reader who insists I habitually am "talking out of my ass."

Now, I won't go into lengthy detail as to why said e-mailer believes my posterior orifice is the medium through which I do most of my verbal correspondence but, suffice it to say, they apparently took most umbrage with my political leanings.

I was going to respond to the e-mail personally, but then I got to thinking: "What if I really do talk out of my ass? What if my ass does all my thinking for me, and I simply don't realize it?"

So, I decided to sit down and have a heart to heart discussion with my ass. But, then I realized I couldn't sit down and talk with my ass at the same time, because then my ass sounded all muffled. So, I stood up, instead, to conduct the interview. Soooooooo. . .

ME: Hello, ass, thanks for taking the time to talk with me today.

ASS: Oh, no problem. I'm happy to be here.

ME: So, last night, I got this e-mail from some person who thinks, when it comes to politics, I'm talking out of my ass. Care to comment?

ASS: Well, I need specifics here. I'm not a mind-reader.

ME: Of course. Well, basically, they said I (and by extension, you, my ass, I guess) was a weak-minded fool for taking the terrorism threat as seriously as I do. They said it was ridiculous for me to think the war on terror was really legitimate seeing as how 9/11 was perpetrated by 19 individuals with box-cutters almost three years ago. That doesn't constitute an army, they said.

ASS: Ah, interesting. Well, not to invoke a slippery slope argument or anything, but what number, specifically, constitutes an "army?" If a terrorist cell consisted of 130 individuals, for example, would that be enough to constitute an army? I mean, it's still way small compared to an actual standing military of a recognized nation, but at what point do you acquiesce and say "gee, that operation sure had all the hallmarks of a military operation to me."

ME: I tend to agree. Anyway, then this e-mailer went off on another tangent, saying that my chances of being killed by a terrorist act were less than me dying in a car accident and, therefore, I'm exaggerating the threat.

ASS: Huh. Fascinating. Except that your car isn't conspiring to acquire nuclear weapons. Look, no, you as an individual are not all that likely to be killed in a terrorist attack. Chances are pretty slim, actually. But that doesn't mean the threat isn't there. It's a matter of how you choose to respond to that threat. The thing about terrorism is that, today, it can mean 19 whackos with box cutters, but tomorrow it could could mean 19 whackos with dirty bombs and anthrax. A car accident will always be a car accident, but terrorism is a fluid and evolutionary thing. Is the e-mailer really content to sit back and wait for the next terror evolution to take place in favor of addressing social security instead?

ME: You're a wise ass. Anyway, in the e-mailer's lengthy and basically unfocused assault, they said that invading Afghanistan and Iraq led to more terrorist enrollment, not less, and that it just fuelled hatred even more.

ASS: I like that. It's cute, almost as if there's a terror clerk, with a pen and paper, tallying the number of terrorists out in the world today versus the number there were on Sept. 10, 2001. Look, on 9/11, 19 fanatics were able to bring down four airplanes, two buildings, part of the heart of America's military-industrial complex, and kill 3,000 people. That's a lot of hate being released there. And we're supposed to believe there's more hate to be fuelled by going after it? What the hell? In three years, we've disposed of two despotic regimes that were an embarrassment to the human species and chased terrorists from their cozy training camps into the mountains and into cesspools like Fallujah where the local populace is ratting them out. Damn us for fuelling such hate!

ME: I suppose. But, as the e-mailer stated, it's just a matter of time before the terrorists strike again, thanks to our heavy hand in the Middle East over the past few years.

ASS: Oh, and I suppose no such attacks would have been forthcoming if we had just licked our wounds and moved on after 9/11? You know, there's nothing that invites an ass kicking more than someone who doesn't do a damned thing after getting their ass kicked. Trust me. I'm an ass, so I know these things. It's a nice thought, turning the other cheek and all that. But, you know what? Eventually, you run out of cheeks to turn. Personally, I thought the last cheek was turned after the two embassy bombings, but what the hell do I know?

ME: Well, thanks for taking the time to talk with me today, Ass. It's always a pleasure.

ASS: Thanks. Now shave me.

How Funny Is This Blog?

One out of two cats think it's this funny.

Pinchy, Pinchy

Via Tammy, we find the most wonderfully foul game you'll never want to play yet be drawn into regardless.

It's basically impossible so, if you get frustrated, you can click the Mega Splat option on the left. Bring your raincoat.

What You Don't Know Could Cost You A Movie Ticket

So, I was in a convenience store (SuperAmerica) up in the Cities over the weekend, and I caught snippets of a conversation between the clerk behind the counter and an apparent friend of his.

FRIEND: Me and the girl went to see Fahrenheit 9/11 last night.

CLERK: Yeah? What'd you think?

FRIEND: It was stupid. I was some damned thing about President Bush and the war in Iraq. First time I ever walked out of a movie. I want my money back!

CLERK: Why? What did you expect?

FRIEND: fuck, I don't know. I thought it was some movie about an arsonist or firefighters or something.

CLERK: You're kidding me.

FRIEND: No, I'm not kidding. If I want to know about shit like that, I'll read a fucking newspaper.

Somehow, I got the feeling the friend rarely, if ever, read a fucking newspaper.

Radio Station Famine

There is a reason that so many people are now downloading music and opting for online radio stations, and that reason is Rochester, Minn.

This city in which I live has the odious distinction of having the worst radio stations on all of the entire planet. Not that Rochester is all that keen on admitting this foul little fact.

No, Rochester is more interested in promoting the fact that it's routinely listed in the top five cities deemed Best Places To Live In America by some nothing publication called Money Magazine. Seriously, here in Rochester, the yearly Money Magazine listing is a cause of great celebration, and nobody seems to have any idea why.

Tell you what, Money Magazine, you come on over to Rochester and look me up, and I'll take you on my drive to and from work on West Circle Drive, and I'll make a special point of taking you over the engineering disaster of an overpass that features no less than four freakin' stoplights in less than 300 yards, and I'll be damned if they're at all synched up, and more than likely we'll find ourselves stuck in the middle of that mess of lights for minutes on end and. . . and. . . and. . . ARGH! Best Place To Live In America MY ASS!

Anyway. Where was I?

Oh, yes, radio stations.

Here in Rochester there are two primary radio stations, Laser 101.7 KRCH, and KROC. These are your basic choices here in Rochester. Oh, there are other, less well known stations that play soft rock and stuff you'll hear as background music in a Kate Hudson movie, but basically these are your two choices.

Laser 101.7, KRCH, touts itself as a classic rock station, meaning they believe the evolution of music stopped abruptly sometime in 1978. KRCH is, I think, legally bound to play at least one Led Zeppelin tune every half hour. It is my firm belief that KRCH has a wealth of CDs by the Doors and the Allman Brothers that are on the verge of disintegration due to overplaying.

KRCH routinely plays a listener testamonial from some caller who says, in a deep and suspiciously drunk-sounding voice that "You guys play the best music I've ever heard!" Trust me when I say that can't be right. The man is quite obviously mistaken.

The other Rochester radio station is KROC, which positions itself as the leader in "Today's Best Music," which would be fine, I suppose, if they had a freakin' clue what today's best music actually is. In the minds of those at KROC, anything by Outkast or Sisqo or any other number of bands with different names that sound exactly alike constitute today's best music.

KROC reaches out to its core listener base, which is basically middle school and high school students who call in frequently and sound like they have a collective IQ of 76. Take, for example, KROC's "Rate at Eight," when they play some new song and encourage listeners to rate it on a scale of one to ten. Well, most listeners, I think, hear the numbers "one" and "ten" and assume those are their only choices because, nine times out of ten, the Einsteins who call in will rate the song either a one ("dude, that song sucks") or a ten ("dude, that totally rocks and has a great beat").

Right now, the song that's getting the most air time on KROC is a particularly annoying diddy by Outkast called "Roses." Keep in mind that this song is adored by students ages 12 through 18, and that the recurring chorus for this Shakepearian piece of lyrical genius goes:

I know you'd like to thank your shit don't stank
But lean a little bit closer
See that roses really smell like poo-poo-oo-ooo
Yeah, roses really smell like poo-poo-oo-ooo

Now, KROC really goes the extra mile on this one by silencing out the soft "i" sound of the word "shit" here. So, you get this line like "I know you like to thank your sh_t don't stank" as if the average listener can't fill in that easy blank (and I totally didn't mean to just rhyme with "thank" and "stank" right there).

So, there you have it. If you come to Rochester, you can either listen to Led Zeppelin or Outkast while trying to traverse one of 18 million stop lights. It's depressing, really, especially when I spend many of my weekends up in the Cities, where there's a plethora of radio station choice. But then, come Sunday evening, I drive back to Rochester and I lose reception from the Cities almost at the same moment I hit the city limits.

I repeat, best place to live in America MY ASS!

Just So You Know

If this happens, I will officially announce my affiliation with the far-leaning Leftists and will renounce any defense I've ever offered up to the Bush Administration.

That is all.

UPDATE: A less knee-jerk reaction can be found here.

UPDATE II: We're now taking votes, apparently, for the best person to act in the role of Dictator Of The United States.

So far, Vin Diesel and The Rock have been postulated, as has J.J. Jameson, from Spiderman 2. As a corollary to that, pornstar Jenna Jameson kinda, sorta got a vote although, personally, I don't think she'd be a very decisive dictator. Finally, we have a vote for William Shatner, which I think would be a bad idea because, as we all know, Shatner would take us to war simply to further enrich his cronies over at Priceline.com.

Myself, I think John Cusack would make a wicked cool dictator, although we shouldn't rule out Kathy Bates because, honestly, the world would be scared crapless if she were dictator.

Any other suggestions?