Photo Finish Friday

Blogger Leah J. Utas started this thing called Photo Finish Friday that some of my friends participate in. Ron does one. David usually does one. So I figured I'd contribute as well, because I like taking pictures and I like seeing pictures that other people take. So here's my first offering -- took this yesterday in my parents' backyard when I was out there for Thanksgiving dinner.

With hunting season winding down, as long as this little guy stays in the vicinity he should survive through Sunday! Provided their yorkshire terrier, Emma, doesn't get outside with a taste for venison, that is. . . .

Great Reads from Questionable Folk

Lots of stuff coming across my radar these days from people I have become acquainted with over the past year or so that is all awesome -- books and the people who write them, of course.

First off, I finally got ahold of my copy of Beat to a Pulp: Round 1, the first collection of stories from the weekly Beat to a Pulp site. Even though I don't have a yarn in this book, I still have a special place in my heart for this one for two reasons. First off, these fine people saw fit to publish my first story, online, earlier this year. I'm talking about The Pickle, of course. Check it out if you haven't yet. Secondly, David Cranmer has become a friend of mine, and frequent commenter here, and we are actually working on a little project together that will hopefully see the light of day sometime in 2011. Anyway, this collection is fantastic, with stories by many other folks I would happily consume alcoholic beverages with, and I hope it sells so well that a Round 2 sees the light of day that I can take a shot at getting into! So buy the thing already, eh?

The next batch of reads are all electronic in nature. Let me preface by saying about a month ago I broke down and bought a fancy new phone (a Samsung Fascinate, for those who care). One of the aps it came loaded with is a Kindle ap, which allows me to download Kindle books and read it on my phone. I had my doubts, but then these next three books came out that I decided to buy and try out on the phone. Turns out, it works pretty friggin' great.

What I've learned is that while reading the backlit screen might be too much to handle in a front-to-back, full book reading, for cranking out a story or two while waiting at the DMV, or the doctor's office, or (ahem) in the bathroom, this format is perfect. And the three I have are perfect for that:

8 Pounds: Eight Tales of Crime, Horror, & Suspense by Chris F. Holm. Chris is a great guy and a great writer. This is a DIY project where he formatted his award winning shorts for the Kindle and threw them out there for $0.99 to purchase. I love the initiative the man is showing here, and the stories are great. I'm inspired to put my own collection together at some point in the next year and follow the trail he's blazed. Awesome.

Discount Noir is a collection edited by my friends Patti Abbott and Steve Weddle. This originally started as a flash fiction challenge thing for little blasts of mayhem that take place at Wal Mart. Obviously they couldn't call it Wal Mart when they put the thing out for sale, of course, but you'll get it when you read the pieces. I haven't read all of them yet, but everything I have read is a lot of fun. If you like crime fiction, to shy away from a little blood and guts and gruesomeness here and there, then definitely check it out. My friend Dan O'Shea read his piece at the Noir at the Bar event I participated in, and it was a blast.

Finally, we have Terminal Damage, a collection of stories from the folks who write one of the best crime/writing blogs around, Do Some Damage. Dig the Amazon description:

Imagine the worst day of your life. Now imagine that day in an airport. The eight authors of DoSomeDamage.com bring together eight stories of murder and mayhem in these linked stories -- tied together by a single, horrible visit to the airport.

From the grandfather in Joelle Charbonneau's SKATING AROUND THE LAW to a team of thugs from Jay Stringer, the stories here show what happens when all hell breaks loose on the concourse.

In addition to Charbonneau and Stringer, the collection boasts stories from John McFetridge (LET IT RIDE, DIRTY SWEET), Dave White (WHEN ONE MAN DIES, THE EVIL THAT MEN DO), Russel D. McLean (THE LOST SISTER, THE GOOD SON), Byron Quertermous (A LOAD OF QUERTERMOUS), Scott D. Parker (ROUND ONE), and Steve Weddle (NEEDLE Magazine).

Again, I haven't gotten around to reading all of this one yet, but I'm stoked to get going on it. Please, good people, if you are a Kindle person, download all three of these collections. They are well worth your time!

Rutting Season

Finally, I need to talk about RUT, from Scott Phillips. This is a fun book, kind of a post-peak oil crash; post-US as a "superpower"; post-Religious Right takeover of America, etc. tale of a biologist studying some weird shit going on in a little former ski resort, and the wacky locals who populate the town. The story is hilarious, and every character, even those with the smallest bit parts, are utterly memorable. I really loved it; the idea, the writing, everything. It's the "World Made By Hand" book that James Howard Kunstler can only dream of pulling off!

What is cool is the model being used by the publisher, Concord Free Press. Here is how they work:

We publish great books and give them away. All we ask is that you make a voluntary donation to a charity or someone in need. Tell us about it. Then pass your book along so others can give. It’s a new kind of publishing, one based purely on generosity, and it’s changing the way people think about books

So I managed to get ahold of two copies for free; one was sent to me by Subterranean Books in St. Louis, the other was given to me when I visited Once Upon a Crime in Minneapolis a couple weeks ago. For my donations, I gave to the Buffalo Field Campaign and also delivered a handful of cash to the Poverello Center here in Missoula.

So I urge everyone to order your free copy from Concord Press. And I have at least one to give away; email me or DM me on twitter or send me a message via Facebook and the first one who does so gets it.

A Divine Tribute to the TSA

Since there is such a hubbub brewing over the latest "travel restrictions" being handed down by our paranoid Federal Overlords in the guise of new security procedures, I'd like to dedicate the following pop classic to the TSA:



This is all ridiculous to me. I'm not going to go Activist Mode in protest, but the last thing I need as a frequent traveler is to be felt up by some bearded dude with garlic breath and a cheetos belly. I think the other option, where said bearded dude and his giggling band of merry men get to ogle my near naked body via a scan machine, would probably be more traumatic for them anyway.

I understand the outrage so many people are expressing, especially folks with kids. I'm also massively embarrassed. Can America really get any dumber? As the article I linked earlier points out, there is this telling fact:

According to a new CBS poll, however, four out of five Americans support the use of the full-body scanners. It's possible this is a bigger deal on the internet than it is in reality.

When you consider an entry in the latest Harper's Index from Harper's Magazine, two out of five Americans also believe Jesus Christ will return to Earth before the year 2050. That's 40-freakin'-percent of the population! It absolutely boggles the mind.

A vast swath of the US population consists of dumbasses. You heard it here first, people.

I'm all for Redemption and Second Chances

But I still say, "Fuck this guy!"

Speaking of Travel

This is a great little essay in The Atlantic from Christopher Buckley called "My Year at Sea: Recalling the Splendid Isolation of Travel by Freighter." It isn't that long; here's a taste:

I remember standing in the crow’s nest as we entered the misty Panama Canal, and the strange sensation as the 4,000-ton ship rose higher and higher inside the lock. I remember dawn coming up over the Strait of Malacca; ragamuffin kids on the dock in Sumatra laughing as they pelted us with bananas; collecting dead flying fish off the deck and bringing them to our sweet, fat, toothless Danish cook to fry up for breakfast. I remember sailing into Hong Kong harbor and seeing my first junk; steaming upriver toward Bangkok, watching the sun rise and set fire to the gold-leafed pagoda roofs; climbing off the stern down a wriggly rope ladder into a sampan, paddling for dear life across the commerce-mad river into the jungle, where it was suddenly quiet and then suddenly loud with monkey-chatter and bird-shriek, the moonlight lambent on the palm fronds.

I think that is as fine a paragraph as I've read lately, even if Buckley's dad is an asshole. I love travel writing like this, and stuff by guys like Paul Theroux and Bruce Chatwin. A couple pieces by Catherine Watson have also come across my radar lately. In one she describes a visit to the resting place of Robert Louis Stevenson, the other to Mark Twain's grave. I'm definitely going to check out her books. Anyway, these articles came to my attention via a travel website called WorldHum, which is fantastic. I mean, check out the link to this photo essay featuring nine of the world's oldest maps. Awesome!

Enough of this jibber jabber, though. This book came in the mail yesterday, and I'm only about a third of the way through looking at all the pretty pictures.

Unexpected: 30 Years of Patagonia Catalog Photography is a compendium of the 100-plus most compelling photos Patagonia has published – and a celebration of wilderness and outdoor-sport photography as an art and a practice

Rural Montana Traffic Control

Julia received this image in an email from a friend and forwarded it to me. I think it's pretty damn funny.

More True Grit

I swiped this update from a blog I read every day called The Tainted Archive by actor/novelist Gary Dobbs, who writes Western novels as Jack Martin. Since I've talked about the Coen's take on True Grit before and noted my enthusiasm for it, I figured it was well worth showing the newest trailer here as well!



I'm with Gary on this: it would sure be great if this movie was hugely successful and helped bump the status of Western books and movies some. I can't wait to see it!

Swung On and Belted

Got home late last night and saw a headline that longtime Seattle Mariners broadcaster Dave Niehaus died at 75 of a heart attack. Here's the story.

I was a big Seattle-sports fan back in the early 90s (except for the Seahawks -- I've always hated them). I was living in the Seattle area at the time. I had a stint working nights driving a forklift and picking orders in a big cooler. I kept a boombox blaring Mariners games whenever they were on, and Niehaus was the voice. Later I moved from the warehouse into the purchasing office and had many opportunities to go to Mariner games at the Kingdome. The 1995 season was the most exciting sports year I think I've ever experienced; I was on board from the beginning, went to a bunch of games, and the team erased a 10-game deficit to the California Angels down the stretch to win the American League West that year after a single 1-game playoff. It was a high time in Jet City, believe me. You had to be there.

In their postseason debut the M's played the Yankees in a classic 5-game series. In game 5 the M's overcame a Yankee lead to push it into extra innings. In the top of the 11th, the Yankees go up by one run and things look bleak. I'm sitting in my dark little trailer, and it's late -- no lights on but the TV. Fucking Black Jack McDowell is on the hill for the Yanks. Joey Cora leads off with a bunt single. Ken Griffey Jr. comes up and also singles; Cora goes to third. The crowd is going nuts. Edgar Martinez, one of my favorite athletes ever, comes to the plate. This is the call from Dave Niehaus. I still get goosebumps, 15 years removed:



I was ecstatic, jumping up and down in my living room. One of my favorite memories ever. Sports can be so sickening and rife with corruption and bullshit, but damn if they can't provide some incredible moments, especially when great personalities are involved.

Thanks for the fantastic years, Dave.

Dad's Birthday

Today is my dad's birthday. He told me not to get him anything, so instead I'm offering this since he reads this blog. It's the best I could do.

I've Got a Case of the Colt's Tooth

Fellow blogger and frequent commenter on this site (thanks, Ron!), Ron Scheer, who keeps the Western-focused Buddies in the Saddle blog, had a great post yesterday called Old West Glossary No. 3. It's the third installment of a series he's had going this past year that lists old phrases and terms he's dug up over the years as a reader and film-lover that were used back in the day. I absolutely love this kind of thing. Here are a couple tastes:

blue blotter = one who drinks heavily. “But when a man’s making a blue blotter of himself, things don’t look the same to him.” William MacLeod Raine, Brand Blotters.

crawfish = to back down, run away. “He's took his stand, and done what he allowed was right. After that, he ain't built to crawfish.” Emerson Hough, Heart’s Desire.

I can't get enough of stuff like this. For more cowboy-related vernacular, check out Ron's first and second installments on the theme as well.

Continuing the theme, a similar post hit my Google feed today courtesy of another favorite site, The Art of Manliness, called Three Sheets to the Wind: Nautical Slang in Common Usage. Here are a couple tidbits from that article:

“As the crow flies” – In a straight line, the shortest route between two points

It was common for 18^th and 19^th century ships to carry crows on board for use as a last resort when other attempts at navigation failed. When released, a crow will instinctively head to shore if it is near. Navigators would often time the crow’s flight as a means of measuring the distance from ship to shore.

Three sheets to the wind” – In a state of drunkenness or intoxication

While one might assume that the word “sheet” represents the sail of the ship, it actually refers to the line used to control the sail. When several sheets were loose, a ship’s sail would flail wildly about, often causing the ship to appear to be staggering uncontrollably, as if in a drunken state. The expression was used to refer to drunkenness even during the age of sail and was often part of a sliding scale. When a sailor was just a wee bit tipsy, he was one sheet to the wind. Two sheets to the wind described a sailor who was well-oiled, while three sheets to the wind represented a sailor who was a stumbling, slurring mess.

Finally, the official Art of Manliness book has a chapter in it with selections from this article, Manly Slang from the 19th Century. I borrowed heavily from it for the pulp boxing story I wrote, which is coming out yet this year. Check some of this stuff out:

Bunch Of Fives. The fist. Pugilistic.

Follow-me-lads. Curls hanging over a lady’s shoulder.

There are several more great ones in the book as well. I get a real kick out of this kind of thing.

Pictures Instead of Several Thousand Words

What follows is a collection of random images gleaned over the last couple months, from various activities. Shots from outings around Montana; trips to Las Vegas, Minnesota, Illinois and North Carolina; some hikes, some goofiness, and even some brushes with death! I may expand more on some of this stuff later, and maybe I won't. Hope you like them.

I can't imagine home without an overflow of books. The point of books is to have way too many but to always feel you never have enough, or the right one at the right moment, but then sometimes to find you'd longed to fall asleep reading The Aspern Papers, and there it is.

-- Louise Erdrich, Books & Islands in Ojibwe Country

Hay for the Horses

He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous mountain roads,
And pulled in at eight a.m.
With his big truckload of hay
behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through the shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under Black oak
Out in the hot corral,
-- The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds --
"I'm sixty-eight," he said,
"I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that's just what
I've gone and done."

Gary Snyder -- The Etiquette of Freedom

On This Election Thing

I waffled on whether or not I wanted to spout off on the results of this recent election business, but then while catching up on the blogs I read online I found this one from Shakespeare & Co that I am going to steal:

Kunstler writes:

It’s really too late for both parties. They’re unreformable. They’ve squandered their legitimacy just as the US enters the fat heart of the long emergency. Neither of them have a plan, or even a single idea that isn’t a dodge or a grift. Both parties tout a “recovery” that is just a cover story for accounting chicanery and statistical lies aimed at concealing the criminally-engineered national bankruptcy that they presided over in split shifts. Both parties are overwhelmingly made up of bagmen for the companies that looted America.

– James Howard Kunstler, 10/31/10.

That sums it up nicely, if you ask me. It's all hot air and finger pointing, and to me so many of those people are the same as one another that it just coats those who actually care about working on behalf of We the People with an equally foul odor. The brief shit I've heard on the radio or in TV ads prove that these people are all assholes, and those listening with breathless anticipation, nodding in agreement, are buffoons. Washington DC needs an enema, not an election.