When All Else Fails...

Scooby Doo!

Why Northeastern Iowa, I've Been Asked

The Driftless Area, you see
       Has captured my affections
The tree-topped rolling hills 
And the streams flowing in all directions
The dissected river valleys
And the cliffs lining the mighty Mississippi

An absurd mix of floodplains and steep gorges
     Make for a complex, paradoxical landscape
Forces of nature magically create
A dreamlike land to which I can escape
And on which my eyes cannot help but fixate
Superbly, divinely, simply, gorgeous

What In The Funk?

We hope you enjoyed your visit.

The Morning Tail-Waggin' Concerto Featuring Mrs D's Small But Loud Terrier

When you live in a neighborhood such as this you grow accustomed to the barking of dogs. Loud, incessant barking, every single morning, except when a thunderstorm rolls in, or when it is snowing.

This neighborhood is home to at least one dog per household from the first houses on all four corners of the intersection with the main thoroughfare, all the way down every street leading south and east to the second and third major thoroughfares that form the square mile parameter of the neighborhood (along with the reservoir to the west, which is the fourth side). 

Every morning beginning just before 6:00am, when the elderly couple four houses to the west and around the corner from me go for their morning constitutional with their two Pekingese, the cacophony begins.

As they stroll through the neighborhood the two small long-haired dogs sniff and poke their noses at the fences encircling the yards along their route, which of course results in the various dogs that live behind those fences barking out greetings (or warnings - I don't understand dog, so I have no idea which it is).

There is an unwritten and unspoken agreement in place between every single resident of the neighborhood that the barking of dogs in the morning is acceptable, even when the barking of dogs becomes a cacophonous soundscape.

That is due to the fact that everyone has, as previously mentioned, at least one dog, and everyone walks their dogs, which means everyone contributes.

The elderly couple with the two Pekingese are just the opening act.

No pots calling the kettles black in this neighborhood, not once. We all just quietly accept the barking of dogs as part of the price of living in such a great neighborhood.

Beats the hell out of jackhammers blasting away in the morning, or sirens wailing throughout the night. 

Beach Officially Closed

Engine-uity, Douglas Gruizenga 2018

 
                         
                                     

Abandoned Roadside Attraction, Kearney, Nebraska

Nebraskan Gateway, Anthony Padovano, Granite 1976

Somewhere I Think I've Been

Everything looks familiar
                   Nothing looks quite right
Follow the same directions
                           Of course, last time it was at night
Fairly sure it's just a few blocks down this road
No, no, the sun definitely went down behind those trees
                   Probably
                   Possibly
Damn, let me see that map

The Party Needs To Get Started, So I Hear

Andrew W.K. & Band at Riot Fest, Chicago 2018

Riot Fest Chicago 2018

The first day of Riot Fest is usually not as well attended as days two or three,  especially early in the day.

But not this year. Douglas Park seemed to fill up quicker than usual this year, and just a few hours after the gates opened the place was crammed with music fans.

                                               Liz Phair playing a mid-afternoon set

                                           Pussy Riot, From Russia With Contempt

                                                         The Aquabats Playing With Sharks 

                                                The Bomb Pops Getting Ready To Rebel

                                         Taking Back Sunday Taking The Rise Stage

The History Of The United States On Display In The Middle Of Nebraska

Minden, Nebraska is a little town just a bit off the beaten path, but it is an extremely well-visited little town that is off the beaten path, at least according to the good people at H. Warp's Pioneer Village.

According to the little pamphlet I was given by the wonderfully friendly lady working the admission window at the Pioneer Village, six million people have paid a visit to the Pioneer Village, which is somewhat amazing when you realize that it is located about as far from any major population center as a tourist attraction can get.

MJM and I made the detour and paid a visit to the Pioneer Village as we were on our way to Riot Fest in Chicago, and it was well worth the time spent (and the $28.00 spent for two adult admissions).

Good Morning From Western Kansas

Jump, Stand, Stand, Run

Beach Boys Are Joy

The Risks Of Writing Under The Influence

On the 17th of March, 1734, Bartholomew Maraschino moved his hand toward the inkwell that sat on the right hand corner of his desk and accidentally struck the small glass of wine that was resting just within the arc of his reach.

And thus became the one hundredth thousandth writer to completely erase the inspired written words of the previous four hours by washing them away with the fruit of the grape. 

His response, never officially recorded for the historical record but known nonetheless by thousands upon thousands of like minded souls was, "Oh crap."

Just Stand Around Looking Virile

Nobody cared

Because nobody wanted or needed to

You were on your own

By choice

You had decided it was going to be

You and you alone

Against the world

It took a few years to discover

Most often,

The world wins

Beyond That Which Is Known

Catch A Falling Star & Put A Finger In A Socket