Never mind the fact that the older I get the more depressing zoos get, but instead realize that part of nature photography is the patience and dedication that it takes to get those amazing shots. Then you come here, pay your $15, $20 if you’d like a tour on the train ride (I recommend the train ride) and get your beautiful closeups.

At least ditch the Rascal, and get one of them hand operated wheel chairs. You make me sick you fat crippie.

Well yeah…. I took pictures at the zoo. It was that or talk to the family.

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No, it didn’t blow up in my lap and destroy my crotch, causing me to be a self loathing eunuch. During the whole battery recall some time ago I somehow wound up with three batteries, which I didn’t need, so I stored two of them in the garage. In retrospect I suppose that was stupid as it gets over one-hundred degrees, and now I have a destroyed battery. Pretty cool though, I think. The packets inside feel like gel packets, which are now sitting in my room probably causing some sort of cancer.

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Will I watch major league soccer after this, well no. I may never fully appreciate the sport, but I can respect it. Hell, I own equipment for just about every sport except soccer. My national pride just wants to whomp on the world. It doesn’t matter what the sport is as long as America is the best. I’m an American for gods sake, and I need to be the best at everything. It kills a bit of my being that we can’t destroy the world at its own sport.

Much respect soccer/football, I’ll see you in four years.

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Now that it’s ending I have no idea why the hell I played the game.  It wasn’t particularly fun, and nothing ever happened.  It passed time until my impending death I suppose.  Other than that, it served no real purpose.  I have no inclination to buy their new monopoly game, and as I delete my web browser’s bookmark I can only think that this was a pointless 10 minute daily activity.

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What is it about a library that seems to attract people of all ages, races and states of consciousness? I suppose the abundance of chairs featuring arms, the warmth/cool (depending on the season) and the general free-ness of the place draws folks into it’s comforting bookish bosom.

I am convinced that this man is ghost. A long dead master of some eastern metaphysical cult. In life he so loved knowledge that he returns to our earthly plane at night and strolls the halls of our libraries, pausing from time to time to pull a book from the shelf, read a few lines and smile knowingly to himself before moving on. Eventually he becomes exhausted from the strain of materializing his soul and he begins the process of returning to the realm of ghosts and wind. Which is what he’s doing right now.

Even if he isn’t a ghost, I approve completely of his presence in the library. He’s quiet, well kept and has a certain dignified air that hangs about him even while sleeping. Contrasted to the beast man I last reviewed, he is a drowsy zen garden, while tub-tard is a couch on your trashy neighbors lawn.

(A man can go his whole life without getting the chance to photograph something so magical as this. I had to sneak up on them like a wildlife photographer, the fat kid had just settled in and was not yet fully asleep. Very dangerous territory.)

Asian man:

• Dignified nearly upright posture
• Perfectly silent (Ninja?)
• Even though sleeping, still a model of self discipline

Fat kid:

• So slouched he requires the use of an auxiliary chair
• Makes grunting noises while setting up his sickening sleep concoction, makes grunting noises while sleeping, makes grunting noises when awaking, makes grunting noises while leaving
• All those who see him weep uncontrollably for the future of America

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Bitch, seriously get out of my way.  There are only 3 of you, and yet you have managed to block the bike path in both directions, and the walking path.  It amazes me how oblivious you idiots really are.  You are walking an arm lengths apart.  Is this just in case you break into involuntary simultaneous jumping jacks?

Your arms are swinging with such vigor I’d swear you were speed walkers, but you’re moving maybe 2 mph.  You don’t walk in a straight line, and you yap, oblivious to any other individual that wants to get around your dumb ass.  We both know too that if someone came in saying ‘on your left’ you would freak the fuck out, and get all pissy about how they blew by you.  To you, bitches of the bike path, FUCK YOU!

The bike path can be a great thing.  Running on the street can be sketchy, and it’s nice to get away from the cars.  Most people adhere to the concept of the path, and all is well on the carless strip of asphalt.  Then there’s these women, and it’s always women.  They leave absolutely no room.  Personally, when coming at them, I choose one to run directly at, and force her off to the side.  I give her a death stare, and I’m considering carrying a shiv just in case she has the nerve to say ‘good morning.’

This all happened on the San Francisquito Trail which is actually a very nice long trail.  I usually come in on it at the corner of McBean and Copper Hill, but if you want to drive there you can pick it up at the Valencia Heritage Park on Newhall Ranch Road.  This is all in Santa Clarita, CA.

PS:  It seems that this site is slowly turning into our hated of humanity.  Oh well, so be it.

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Standing in line at Vallarta Supermarket I saw whatever the fuck this is.  The 5 lbs. of carne aside prevented me from flipping through it, but honestly, do I want to?

Is this a man or a woman?  Shehim has clearly been inspired by Robin Williams in the 90′s sensation Mrs. Doubtfire.

Magazine aside Vallarta is a magical land of wonder and delight.  It caters to the latinos in us all, and especially to the high concentration of hispanics living in the area.  They have vats of guacamole and nacho cheese the size of a victorian bath tub.  All types of meat, fresh produce, a little eating area, and fresh tortillas make it all so grand.  It is a bustling vibrant establishment, and worth checking out.

Hell Yes!

Often they have some radio station that comes down and makes an ass load of noise.  You will know when this is going on because there is a 30 ft. inflatable tecate can.

Vallarta also has a service that delivers food or picks people up, I’m not quite sure.  All I know is those fucks drive  40 mph through the parking lot, and have nearly taken me out on multiple occasions.

Wrap Up:  Fire up the grill, get some beer, and buy whatever damn dead animal your heart desires.  You won’t regret it.

You can find store locations at http://www.vallartasupermarket.com/

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I hate you sleeping fat kid. I don’t care if your rascal scooter broke and you had to waddle all the way from your car to campus. I don’t care if you ate a bag of candy corn and pitched yourself into a diabetic coma. These are not my concerns.

Why are you here? It’s 8am. The earliest classes are at 8am. If it’s 8am and you’re not in a class that means you’re here early.  In other words, you came with the soul intention of lumbering into the library to catch a manatee like nap. This angers me. I don’t know why exactly, but every time you fidget in your sleep or make some grunting sound, I cringe and despair for humanity.

I’m trying to pound out an essay about something I can already barely manage to care about and having your 300lbs of living, breathing, useless mass 10 feet away is not helping.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go against ever fiber of my being and break the golden rule of the library. I’m going to be loud. I’ll start with a cough, if that doesn’t rouse you I’m going to position my squeaky ass laptop screen repeatedly (it sounds like a spooky Halloween style door creak). If that should fail, I’m going to begin cycling through available ring tones on my cell phone.  I will continue to do this each Tuesday and Thursday until you vacate the library, or find some other place to plop down in. Capiche?

Here’s my review section: If you’re thinking about buying a fat kid to hang around you and sleep all day, don’t. It’s depressing and horrible and will almost certainly turn you into a hate filled jerk.

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Born from the womb of a man, this piece of art speaks to the transcendence, and stillness of time.  Sturdy like the pillars of Rome this work will stand in posterity attesting to our greatness as the kings of the start of the third millennia.

We know not why he created it, or how, all we know is that he did.  The back is thick, and sturdy like the back of so many hard working Americans.  The form is coherent yet scattered like our daily lives.  The center diamond like granite tile asserts itself with such bravado that you can’t dare to look into it or anyway from it.  It is the heart of the piece, the lifeblood.  A lightning bolt of quartz or some other mineral streaks through it with the vitality of all mankind.

The smaller fragmented pieces are separated, yet held together on one solid plank.    They represent the various stages or our life.  Seeming distant, yet interconnected.  The crossword like designs speak to our intelligence.  The linear design symbolizes progress, and the arrows point to infinity.

This work will effect the future of American society, how, I am not sure.  It should hang in every union hall, every city hall, every hospital, and every firehouse.  It stands for not just one man, but for one society, the great society.  Its code, its ethics, may not be understood by outsiders, but its encrypted message can be deciphered by any true American heart now, or an eternity from now.

An original work done by James Horn.

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