Skip to content

Category: Creative Work

Top Three Reasons Dennis Kucinich is a Bad Ass

Whats that?  Is Dennis Kucinich gonna have to Pocket Constitution on you?
What's that? Is Dennis Kucinich gonna have to Pocket Constitution on you?

After his firey speech at the DNC in August 2008, Dennis Kucinich has regained some of the stature that his supporters felt he deserved; he’s the *real* liberal left wing of the Democrats, but he is also something else.  Dennis Kucinich is a Bad-ass Mutha-‘Effer.

3. He’s a Sexy Mutha-‘Effer

She loves him for his mind.  That’s what you keep telling yourself.  It’s because of his liberal policies and strong political opinions.  His stance on Women’s rights and Abortion are what attracted her, sure.  It was the fact that he’s smoother than airgel and harder than steel that keeps the ladies on him.  Kucinich has the prowess of John Holmes and the Mind of a Savant.   Even Dolomite can’t hang in Kucinich’s ‘hood.

Special Note: His Pimp Juice is a nice tea.  His love engine runs on righteousness and awesome.

2.  Aliens Fear and Revere Him

Aliens for Dennis
Aliens for Dennis

“The smell of roses drew him out to my balcony where, when he looked up, he saw a gigantic triangular craft, silent, and observing him,” she wrote. “It hovered, soundless, for 10 minutes or so, and sped away with a speed he couldn’t comprehend. He said he felt a connection in his heart and heard directions in his mind.”
Shirley MacLaine

What Miss MacLaine wasn’t aware of is that for those 10 minutes, Dennis was transported invisibly into the ship and taken to the home planet of those Aliens.  They wanted to study the Man, (they had seen his wife on news broadcasts and wanted to study the man in person).  The only problem being that while Dennis isn’t violent, he is fully capable of whipping some grey ass when the need is there.  After hours of ongoing psychic combat and a series of acrobatic and violent fist fights, Dennis Subdued the leader of the Greys and convinced them that he wasn’t going to take over their planet in a violent coup, instead he left them a copy of the consitution and asked politely to be taken back to earth.  9 minutes and 30 seconds after they appeared, the aliens left Dennis on Earth in approximately 14.3 years the denizens of a future earth will see the new constellation “Dennis Kucinich” in the neighborhood of Alpha Centauri, home of the nearest inhabited planet it takes 10 years to build new stars you know.

1.  Dennis Kucinich had a Mafia Hit on him, and the Mafia had to abandon it.

Is this man about to put a Hit on Someone?
Is this man about to put a Hit on Someone?

During his tenure as Mayor of Cleveland, the Mafia put a hit out on “The Boy Mayor” (Dennis was 31).  The official story is that Dennis was in hospital the day the hit was planned and so it was called off, the truth is something a great deal darker; and the reason Dennis refuses to ever pick up a gun again.  The fact of the matter is that Dennis Kucinich is the inspiration for “The Killer” and “The Punisher

That fateful Columbus Day, the major crime families in Cleveland suffered under the twin pistols of “El Morte Diabalous”  the horribly misspelled “Death Devil” who stalked the streets of Cleveland, murdering the evil drug pushing, murdering, leg-breakers that he found.  All totaled Dennis sent 25 men to their maker and spent the rest of the day in hospital for burns on his hands.  Dennis vowed from that day forth to hone his mind into a weapon so that he would never kill another person, with a gun.

Quick Story: Bobo and the Omega Nugget

When the omega nugget fell into the chimp enclosure at Brentwood Academy, the chimps all gathered around it and began to poke at it’s shiny coating.  Some of the chimps wanted to push it out of the enclosure, better to leave it to the humans.  Some of the chimps wanted to put it into the water moat at the south end of the enclosure and drown it.  One of the chimps, Bobo; wanted it for himself.  So he snatched it up and secreted it with his private stash of fruits and random implements that fell into the Chimps’ cage during the day.

Bobo studied the Nugget at every chance he could, he fingered it’s designs and tried to puzzle out what it was for.  It was small, metal and yellow.  It had scribbled words all over it; like a human tool, but it wasn’t designed for hands like theirs were.  It was just a lump of metal with words on it; but it hummed and pulsed like it was alive when you held it just so.

The other chimps lost interest in it until they go near it; Bobo noticed that when he held it he could read the signs around the cages and understood the Humans when they spoke (more than he could when he wasn’t near the chunk.  He even grew to realize that he had put it with his secret food stash so that he wouldn’t forget about it when he wasn’t near it, like the other chimps.

Day by day, Bobo became more and more aware of himself.  He began to try to imitate the speech of the humans that visited the Brentwood Academy and make himelf understood.  He never let the humans see the Nugget, it was for him alone.  He’d gesture at the children and they would whoop and clap when he would gutter “Hey you!  Throw me a bit of fruit and I’ll dance for you!”

The guards and keepers started to take an interest in Bobo and so Bobo decided that he would only perform when there were kids around and alone; so that the keepers wouldn’t take him out of the enclosure.  He felt sure that when he left the enclosure, it would have to be on his own terms.

The Nugget had been subtly chaning too; it started to look a bit like a rough outline of a brain, with a band around it.  Bebo didn’t know that this was a brain though, just that it changed.

The other chimps came to shun Bebo, as he was just “different” now.  They would share his food though, but then shy away or openly attack him if there was no food around.  Bebo came to realize that if they Keepers saw him being unsocial, they would take him away from the Nugget.

One day, Bebo decided that it was time to leave the enclosure, and using a but of sharp metal he hid himself in the back of the enclosure, away from the eyes of the humans, he shaved himself bald and using some clothes dsiguised himself as a lanky child.  Hiding the nugget in his pocket, Bobo leaped from the enclsoure close to closing time and hid amongst a crowd as they left.

The papers were filled with stories of the performing Ape who had been stolen from the Brentwood Academy; but Bebo was never seen at the Academy Again again.

Story: Project Billy Part 3

In the morning, Billy quietly showered and left before I got up, leaving me to check around for any lingering Pontiffs.  I found a couple hiding under his bed, but they were tiny.  I snatched them up and stuffed them into the disposal.  I didn’t really feel like carrying some crying popes around with me while I made my way to the office.

I caught up with Billy at the Coffee Stand downstairs in his building, he was nursing a chai tea and watching the floor intently; no doubt on watch for more minuscule ministers.  I ordered a house blend with two creams and two sugars and sat in a chair at his table.  I pulled out my notebook and surfed for news for a while, until Billy broke the silence.

“Hey Man, do you think I could move in with you?” he whispered over his tea.

Uhh, I dunno, my place isn’t any bigger than yours and I don’t think my disposal could handle all the extra work” I didn’t look up; but I know Billy wouldn’t have smiled at that one.  I had been carefully ginning up the level of stress around the Popes for the past couple of weeks, and it was really showing.  Billy was still taking care of his appearance, but his shirt was sloppy and his jeans looked like they hadn’t been washed in a while.  He didn’t stink, but he was starting to give off the impression of an emotionally disturbed person who should have been in long-term care.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.  Sorry Man, I know.  How about just over the weekend?  So I could sleep, you know?”  he sounded like he was going to plead, “just Friday, Saturday, okay?”

“Sure Billy, we can hit a show or something then crash at my place.  Hey, are you done with your part of the project?  I turned in the last of the code for section 2 last night.  As of this morning, I am out of the project.”  I leaned back and waited.

“No way! I’m about a week away, you know I can’t work after hours like you.  I don’t even know how you do it.”  Billy was crestfallen, we had been working at about the same pace until about a month ago, when the popes started popping up with so much frequency.  “Maybe I’ll spend Sunday on it and get caught up, or something”

“Sure, Billy.  Do you wanna head into the office?”

We gathered up our crap and left a tip in the karma jar on the counter.  I winked at the waitress who had served Billy and I, she smiled and gave me a little thumbs up.

As we walked to the subway, Billy was counting something, under his breath.  I didn’t ask.  Better to let him stew and work it out on his own.  I felt bad for what was going on with Billy, he was cracking and we really weren’t helping matters.  It was just much more important to the Project that we kept him “on edge”

I caught the eye of the Ticket Booth lady and paid for Billy and I.  Billy put on his headphones and nodded off; I tapped out a few notes about his behavior on my Cell phone and sms’d them to Mitzi.  Mitzi was keeping track of Billy’s behavior and the Popes.  Mitzi’s notes kept track of what was going on with Billy.

Billy snored a bit beside me and his head tipped back.  I snapped a shot of him and sent it off to Mitzi, he’d get all of this once we were out of the subway and I could connect to the network again.  Mitzi’s notes were surprisingly detailed, he had people all over watching Billy, like the waitress at the Coffee Stand and a couple of the people in his building.  Billy was probably only slightly less surveilled than your average Colombian Drug lord.

At our stop I shook Billy and he sleepily followed me out of the subway and into the office.  When Mitzi showed up to congratulate me on a job well done, he gave me the secret “hey” nod that meant “I’m going to call you into my office to talk about the real Project, be ready”

Billy had thrown himself into his work, in an effort to banish his problems from his head.  He ignored me when I got the call and left to speak to Mitzi.

“So, he’s popping out Popes like sweat now, huh?” Mitzi was more than excited.  “When do you think we can start moving on to other things? I’d really like to start him on Pokemon or something, we can sell those!”  Mitzi was actually rubbing his hands like a cartoon villain.  He was the Gay Blowfeld, better dressed, tanned and with better caps.  Mitzi kind of looked like a svelte Jim Jay Bullock, but about as moral as Gordon Gekko.  “Every time I look at Billy, I see a big money bag like Donald Duck’s uncle carted around, with a Dollar Sign on the side and gold dollar coins falling out of it.”  Mitzi was obviously lost in his fantasies about money.

“Mitzi, I’m not sure we can MAKE Billy produce what we want; it all seems to be totally unconscious, he doesn’t make the popes appear, they just do.  I’ve been considering that it isn’t even his subconscious.  I found some popes this morning, and none of them were familiar.  I had to dig around some history sites to find out that they were “False” popes from the middle ages.  That’s a really obscure subject, no wiki pages or anything.  Billy might be the center of these things, but he doesn’t seem to be making them happen”

Mitzi slumped back in his chair and tented his hands in front of him.  “How about this, we introduce him to a conspiracy that seems real, start prodding him with a convincing conspiracy of things that could make us cash, like the Knights Templar or something?”

“I don’t know.  I think once we start publicly talking about these or selling them Billy will catch on, he’s paranoid, not naive”

We both surrendered to silence for a bit while Mitzi considered what I said, I concentrated on his family photos and vacation shots.  Mitzi was so proud of his family, they had always supported him, but he was in love with money first.  Mitzi was a great administrator and had a savvy way of squeezing every buck out of the other divisions when we did work for them.  His accounting plans had been fleshed out across the firm and had earned him a great deal of respect at the board; but they were a bunch of old prejudiced farts who wouldn’t let him rise above middle management, due to his flamboyant nature.  One of the HR reps referred to Mitzi as “Machiavelli in Loafers” (except that Mitzi never wore loafers).

“Okay, let’s let him in on it!” Mitzi stood up and led me to the door.  When he opened it, Billy was standing there holding what looked like a Yellow Toy rat, “pika-poo” it squeeked and dropped a duce in Billy’s hand.

“Did you guys want to tell me something?” Billy Asked.





Thomas Hawk and SF MOMA or Why I Love my a530

On Equipment

I have a Rebel XT that can take great pictures, It have a couple of Lenses (the kit, a prime 2.8, a 20-70 and 30-300 tele/macro) and I love taking it out on tours of photogenic locations and capturing the world in it’s glassy eye.  I can take pensive, crafted and beautiful pictures with it.  However, it is not the only camera in the world and it is light-years beyond what I may actually need.  Not Long ago someone pointed out to me that Ansel Adams took photos with little more than glass, a box and some film, and it was what he did afterwards that turned a great photo into art.

I love taking photos,  I think Thomas Hawk does too; so it pained me to see that he was being harassed for doing what he loves.  This has led to some discussion online.  I will carefully highlight that it pained me in the past tense, because I am not going to defend either party over here at Local Blogger; it’s not for me to do.  I’m not party to either side of the discussion, save as a photographer, but I’m no professional and cannot fully understand all of the motives and methods that Thomas employs.  Nor am I SF MOMA, large as I can appear, I am no Modern Art Museum, nor am I the curator or an officer of any establishment save the “Kevin Wardrop Museum of Comics and Toys” which has fallen apart as of late, due to my lax administration.  No, I am Kevin Wardrop, Geek.  So I will try to draw a balance in my commentary on all of this.

First some assumptions:

If where you work is covered by CCTV, then being photographed should not be a problem. As I understand things; the reason Thomas was approached was because an employee of the Museum was uncomfortable with the lens of the Camera being on her, possibly pointed down her blouse.  I can’t see why it matters, honestly.  If you are under the lens of a CCTV for 90% of your day, you have had your privacy exploited by a security person at least once or twice this week.  They might not post your picture on the web or sell it to a magazine; but chances are they might.  Why stress over a photographer, at least you can approach them and ask for a card or ask where they might be using the picture.

Buildings built with public money and funded by donation have no right to restrict photography; that being said the SF MOMA is a private not-for-profit entity.  Which means that they can restrict behavior within their walls.  Period.  If they want the negative publicity from ejecting photographers, that’s within their rigths, up until a limit.  Obviously, they can’t be overtly discriminatory against any paying customer.

People assume (wrongly) that a SLR or dSLR means that you are a professional (or a pervert);  I don’t get hassled to often when I go out with my Camera, even when I have the 300mm zoom lens on.  I do get the occasional dirty look though; even “remote hassles” but no in your face confrontations.  If I am close enough, I ask for permission to take photos, but often I like to take candid photos where people don’t know and are unaware of me.  It’s life that I’m photographing, not poses.  To defend myself from the pervert discussion I usually have my family with me when I take photos; people see my daughter and assume that I’m a tourist (which suits me fine).  I assume the same when I see some dude with a kit lens on his far too expensive dSLR too.   To assuage fears I also carry Moo Cards with my name and contact info on them so that people can feel assured that I am not some pervert looking to exploit their image; which then leads to “are you going to sell these?”  I’m not a professional, I would like to make money while taking pictures; but I don’t.  Thomas does; which changes the equation slightly.  If I was a professional and known for my work, I imagine that some people might be aware that I make money off of these photos and should be careful to make sure that I am sensitive to these beliefs when approached by members of the public or worse an authority figure.

As I stated earlier, I wasn’t on hand for Thomas’s encounter and have to go on Thomas’ word and those of other “witnesses” (who may be sock puppets for SF MoMa for all I know); it looks like there was a misunderstanding and miscommunication that led to misanthropy on the both parts.  As a public figure, Thomas should have shown a bit more humility and less self-assurance and simply backed down; Simon, for his part appears to have been overzealous in his defense of his employee/co-worker.  I believe we should chalk this up to misunderstanding and walk away from it.  Mr. Blint may have acted like an asshole; but Thomas should be aware that on Private property, the authority lies with the Janitors before it lies with the visitors.

(I use janitors here as an example of the lowest paid employee or at least least authoritative, not as some statement of their position in society, Janitors are FAR more important than CEOs in the scope of things)

Had Thomas been carrying a point and shoot; would he have faced as much hassle?  All of the signs here point to no; and a short perusal of the discussions of this matter seem to confirm the phenomenon.  People with “good” cameras are hassled where people with “crappy pos” cameras are given free reign.  Why?

Let’s look at my assumptions again; people with dSLR cameras are looked at as either Professionals or Perverts.  In this case, it was Pervert.  Almost always wrong, almost always incorrect, but there it is.  People who are willing to pout money into something like photography are faced with suspicion, where people who just pay a couple hundred bucks for their little pocket camera are treated like “benign dummies”  you can see that in the way people who are hassled talk about the phenomena.  “I had my big Camera… but people with cell phone cameras and little point and shoots were getting a pass”

Clearly there is a kind of class division of photographers that Thomas (and others) have fallen afoul of.  It’s a shame that the proliferation of dSLRs hasn’t removed the stigma of the “big” camera over the the “fun” little camera.  That, however leads me back to my initial point.

As I understand things, Ansel Adams, who is often held up as a standard in photography didn’t have any of the technology that we have on hand today, and that all of his work was technique and style over equipment and luck.  I am forced to admit that I don’t take (for the most part) any better photos with my 800 dollar kit than I take with my a530.  If I take my time and plan it out, my a530 can produce some amazing results, un retouched and uncropped, and it doesn’t set off any warning bells in the minds of most people.  It fits in my pocket and is ready in a few seconds.  Nothing could be easier, simpler and more prone for abuse.  I can easily use my “little” camera to snap candid photos with no one being the wiser, I can control exposure and flash with one hand and don’t even need to put it to my eye to compose a shot.  I love my a530 simply because it is unobtrusive and easy to use.  If anything, people should fear a compact camera more than a big camera because a silent and easy to hide Camera is much more easily used to take surreptitious and exploitive photos than a large camera is.

In the end, it’s not the equipment that defines how a photographer should be judged, its what they do with it, and from what I can tell, Thomas did no wrong with the Camera, but his mouth might have become over exposed.

Story: Project Billy Part 2

That night, I finished up the final touches on my part of the Website revamps at home and sent merged my work to the CVS on my own branch.  I’d let the source control teams check it in and make sure it was to spec.  Mitzi called me about an hour later and told me that he appreciated my work.  I kicked back and watched some History TV that I’d recorded earlier, “The Lives of the Popes”.

Billy called around 9 o’clock.  “Hey man, I got one of those Pope things cornered in my bathtub, can you come over here and take it out of my place?”  He sounded frantic.  Billy wasn’t stable on his best days, he wouldn’t sleep if a Pope was in his house.

“Sure Bill, I’ll be over there in a bit.  I’ll catch a cab and be there as soon as possible” I hung up and grabbed some clothes and my Laptop; if Billy was too worked up I’d have to sit with him for a few hours and probably end up on his couch for the night.  Being prepared was best.

About 20 minutes later I knocked on Billy’s Door; it had a huge inverted cross with a barbie hung on it.  Easy to find.

Billy yanked the door open on the second knock and pointed, shaking and eyes closed at his bathroom door.  Crouched in the dirty tub was a foot tall John Paul II, peering down the drain and saying “Hello, my child?  Are you there?  Do you want the blessings of God?” He proceeded to turn and lift his cassock, bareing his tiny bum to the drain hole and dropping his “blessing” down the pipe.  I turned on the hot water to wash away his leavings and snatched the smelly pontiff from the floor of the bathtub. 

“No, No! I must bless the filthy beasts!” the tiny pope protested, beating at my hands.  The Pope squirmed and protested, but It was for nothing.  I snatched his head and wrenched it around, killing the tiny Priest as quickly and quietly as possible.  It never got easier, but the big ones were trouble,  a benedict had gotten into the trash a month ago and set off a roach infestation that was still going on at Billy’s.

Billy peered from around the bathroom door, “hey man, is it done?”

“Billy, you gotta start taking care of these guys, you’re gonna live in fear of them until you stand up for yourself” I sighed and stuffed the miniature pope into a green garbage bag. “They don’t seem to attack you or anything, they just show up and start blessing the plants and bugs.  Do they talk about anything else?”

“Man, I’m telling you, when they catch me alone they tell me they are gonna take John’s soul and kill me!”

Billy began to tear up, his eye already wet.  He bubbled and shook then collapsed into a wailing heap.  I got him to his room and closed the door.  The living room was a mess of blankets and bongs.  Billy’s tastes ran from Grateful Dead to Nine Inch Nails, and his walls suffered from the clash of Inudstrial Nihilsm and ‘Shroom-fed Hippy Optimism.  I picked up a bit and settled onto the couch to surf a bit.  I listened for Billy to stop crying and when he had finally given up, he stalked into the bathroom and wiped himself up.

Billy sat next to me on the couch and harumphed.  I leaned back and waited for him to talk.

“You know what? The next one of those fuckers that appears?  I’m gonna strap it down and make it tell you what it is here for!  Yeah!”

“Sure man, It’s getting late.  You mind if I couch surf here until morning and head to work in the morning?”

“Sure man, you can watch for the Popes!”

Billy brightened a bit and watched some TV; he smoked a bit of really rank weed and went back to bed.

When I was sure he was in bed I IM’d Mitzi and told him what had went on. 

“Does he know what’s up?” Mitzi asked.

“No way, I just let him go on and on, but he doesn’t have any idea” I tapped out.

“Alright, we’ll see how he is in the morning then, Thanks for the update” Mitzi signed off and I closed the laptop.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a 3 inch tall, naked man stroll accross the floor, whistling as he went.  Too tired to care what ancient religious figure it might have been, I obliterated him with a shoe and went to sleep.

Hunter S. Thompson

Hunter S. Thompson, originally uploaded by NiteMayr.

20,000 Views on Flickr and this was the latest picture there, thanks all you Old Boys and Girls! A special thanks to the Old Boys reunion attendees for driving so many eyes to my Flickr account, just by being awesome.

Keep of shining you crazy diamonds!

Man or Metro-man

Man or Metro-man, originally uploaded by NiteMayr.

I dunno, this might be offensive to you; but I enjoy a bit of troublemaking when I’m out and about. Adria, Anita, Chris, Shawn, Alex and Rosie will tell you that I’m the friend that will draw on your metaphorical face when you’re sleeping. It’s all about the “naughty” japes, no hits. You know?

This guy (who I will call English MotherLover from now on) was at the Party after the Shirt Tail Parade on Sunday night; and we saw him sashaying around the party as we were getting our own boogie on. Eventually someone said to me, “what do you think gay, straight or metrosexual?” and gestured to English MotherLover here. We debated this one for a while, because he was really flexing the pink and was “way too good looking and comfortable” to be straight.

Faster than you could say, How Rude, I went over to get the 411 on the situation. He assured me that he was straighter than your ruler, I asked about the tattoo. Apparently he has his friend’s Mothers name on his arms. He said that his friend was going to kick his ass for it; but he didn’t care. (It was airbrushed on anyway)

It was way too loud for a long conversation about this whole deal; and so I asked for his picture and returned to dutifully report on the details. Not Really gay, but just English (I was a great deal more colorful here but why ruin a good story).

The point of this little narrative is to reinforce a couple of points, why be shy and why not know the answer for sure? We were wondering, we had all considered the facts, but were not close to an answer, for the most part when dude’s were playing the fey at the party they were obviously straight guys playing it for kicks, this dude looked like he might really be “the only gay at that part of the crowd” and we had debated it. The truth was WAY more interesting than holding onto our little theories. People are awesome and their stories are always better than your fiction, you know?

As with everyone else I snatched for a photo on Sunday, thanks for posing English MotherLover!