Found Winter Photo: Bikini Skiing, Oh Brave New World

The last time I posted a “found” winter photo I prefaced with the following:

“I figured that it was time to start posting some cool “found” winter pictures, the way I do for summer.  The thing is, it is not nearly as easy to find fun, photos of winter–it’s a more serious season, in many ways.  Google “winter” and you get a lot of landscapes and snowy foliage, as opposed to the surfing and bikini babes a ‘”summer” search turns up. “

ski-bikiniUpon further review, it seems that I was mistaken.  A fairly superficial browsing has turned up a plethora of interesting shots, including modern stuff and the vintage pictures I enjoy so much.  I’ve also discovered that bikini girls are not limited to the province of summer–was I the last person to know that “bikini skiing” is a thing?  I put my coat on to step outside to let the dog pee.

George Bush said that “they” hate America because they hate freedom.  I’m pretty sure it’s because they’re jealous of our bikini skiing.  (And yours, too, Canada–you clearly excel in the sport.


Winter Photos: Safety First

Safety First

I figured that it was time to start posting some cool “found” winter pictures, the way I do for summer.  The thing is, it is not nearly as easy to find fun, photos of winter–it’s a more serious season, in many ways.  Google “winter” and you get a lot of landscapes and snowy foliage, as opposed to the surfing and bikini babes a ‘”summer” search turns up.  Nevertheless, I found a few.

The image above reminds me , however obliquely, of my own The elementary school days.  My school was at the top of a hill–not a precipitous slope by any means, but in winter before the age of kneejerk school cancellations, and during the heyday of large, rear-wheel drive american cars, there was no shortage of tire-spinning mechanized behemoths churning halfway up the street before surrendering to gravity and backing their way back down the hill.

My children today fixate on the possibility of delayed schedules the moment word reaches Mercthem of even a single flake, but back in the day snow meant getting ready and going to school a half hour, maybe even forty minutes early, in order to join the daily round of “smear the queer” (yes, I know how that sounds, but I guarantee that not once of us ever gave pause to consider sexual orientation and, in fact, in this game “the queer” was generally the role of the bravest, boldest, and most athletic of the lot of us) which wasn’t as bad as it sounds: in short, one kid has the ball and he runs like hell while all the other kids try to get it from him.  We played in snow over asphalt.  There was often blood.  It was wonderful–we all wanted to be the queer.

Even better, however, was when twenty or thirty of us would be busy beating the living tar out of each other and a car would start spinning tires on the slick hill, and we would run out into the street, en masse, and push it up the hill, laughing and shouting, erupting into a boisterous cheer.

Can you imagine that happening today.  I’d be terrified of the liability issues if a horde of children surrounded my car on a slippery hill.  Eventually, a driver called the school to complain and the principal herded a bunch of us into the school library and proceeded to shout and foam at the mouth along the way towards banning that tradition.  He stopped “smear the queer,” too, just because he could.


Where Is That Guy?

So, it has come to this: I feel guilty for not posting, and more guilty for not making time to read your blogs.  I’m drowning in notifications…

I was going to write about all the things I’m not writing about–you know, because it’s been a good week with a lot going on, but I’ve been busy–but in the process of telling what they were and what I wasn’t going to write, I wrote some stuff…

And then I wrote some more.

tumblr_n5w2uv2Ntt1s9ahd8o4_1280And now this post is to explain, in advance, why I’m writing about all this stuff after it’s relevant.  Just think of this blog as an old school magazine made out of paper (they had those, it’s true).  Somebody dies on Tuesday, you don’t read about it until next Monday and that’s okay.

Some things, that deserve to be written about, still won’t be, and that’s a damn shame.   I’ve missed more Chris Christie corruption (go figure–somebody should start a pool on when his fellow Republicans are going to turn on this guy and feast on his ample flesh–Newsmax is already eyeing up his flanks with a barbecue pit smoldering in the background), that cartwheeling airplane crash in Taiwan (holy shit! right?) and the worst of the worst: ISIS.

On the plus side: Harper Lee’s staff is sending us a “new” old novel, which I highly anticipate borrowing from the library (because that baby’s going to cost $30 for sure, and Ms. Lee doesn’t need my financial support nearly as much as the small cadre of pulp science fiction authors whose work I buy new just because of, well, karma.  Maybe I’ll write about that sometime, but not today.

And I digress.  As usual.  But who cares?  No good pictures in this post–no one will read it.  I know how the game works.

I’ve been mired in snow. I’m in the property maintenance business when I’m not wearing my SuperBlogger spandex tights and cape, and it’s been snowing for 12 days straight–which means I’ve been salting and scraping for 10 of the past 12 days.  I took last weekend off–it was a good weekend, actually: two bands in bars on Friday and Saturday and a great Superbowl Party, although I should have ditched out on at the latter while a mix of rain and snow fell for hours.

An inch of slush above an inch of clear ice greeted me Monday morning–cleaning the sidewalk was a lot like running a Zamboni over a rink.  I was just sort of polishing the ice–and 250 pounds of salt over 13 properties–about 700 linear feet of sidewalk plus stairs, stoops, and entries–didn’t do a damned bit of good.  Sigh.  We’ve had 1-2 inches of snow each day this week, and I’ve finally got it under control.  And, okay–so I’m going to put some pictures in here after all.  I’m weak.


It is a good thing that I really like snow. I like being out in the winter, in the cold.  I like how snow looks, I like how it squeaks when it’s damnably cold, and how it sticks to all the branches and shrubs when it’s just below freezing.  I even like the shoveling, though my current workload is probably a bit excessive, and here’s the thing: I have a tractor with a plow, and two snowblowers–but I like the scrape of the shovel on concrete, and I’d rather burn through my biceps and shoulders shoveling than wrestle with those damn machines
IMG_0060and their infernal combustion engines that never like to start  in cold weather.  And not to mention dragging a trailer laden with equipment around town as the streets narrow and get all sloppy–that’s no fun at all.  Just my shovel and me, being all manly.

It’s 5:45am–got to get the girls to the gym for strength training.  More later.



First Good Snow Today

We’ve had a sparse winter, but I finally may get to use the new shovel…

“Shut up, Wesley!”


Merry Christmas To All, And to All A Good Night


It’s officially Christmas at my house–one minute after midnight, eastern standard time–and I’d just like to take a moment to wish all of you, whether you celebrate this holiday or not–the warmest of wishes today and throughout the year.  There is no quantifying the fun, and the sense of community, I’ve experienced in reading your words as well as sharing mine–it’s certainly more than I ever expected to gain from keeping a blog.  Not bad for something I did on a lark.  So, enjoy today, tomorrow, and all of the year.

Thank you and goodnight.

Sincerely, Charles


Photo I Like

Christmas Girl: Don’t Fence Me In

No idea from where I stole this one: great shot though, nice snow, cute girl, seasonal...
No idea from where I stole this one: great shot though, nice snow, cute girl, seasonal…
Commentary Photo I Like

The Saturday Snow White Variations: She’s Baaaaaack

6a00e54efdf11288330192aa923604970dI’m surprised there’s no real discussion about Snow White’s magical revival–where exactly was the magic?  It’s implied that she’s been put “under a spell” but the weapon wasn’t a “magic apple” but a “poison apple.’  The Dwarfs–Sleepy, Grouchy, Hungry, Horny, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Thorin Oakenshield–clearly thought she was dead, or they wouldn’t have laid her 73e5f40fc8da6e0ca1ec52cac5bf384fout in that nifty glass coffin that keeps all the forest creatures from gnawing on her surprisingly supple flesh–but doesn’t keep Young Prince Necrophile from snagging a little sugar from her moldering corpse.  Gives you something to think about, eh?

Forgetting that unfortunate perversion theme, we must wonder: the magic was in the kiss?  What am I forgetting?  Why does she wake up?  Why did she, um, remain so, er, fresh. Doesn’t really matter, because the point is–and we’re all in agreement, yes?–that she was dead.  And then, not so much.  A man has to wonder: is “not dead” always the same as alive, or….

Maybe she was exposed to a huge dose of Gamma Rays at the exact time she bit into the apple?










I know, it’s unlikely–but a guy can hope, right?  The alternative is just too disturbing to ponder.










I’m not talking about a mere deal with the devil, although that would do.






But something more…unnatural.


snow_white_zombie_by_g_10gian82-d5lobzh 123347_zombie_snow_white a3efb6eb71d35bb0f88fe7b844547f2f







Another Saturday Snow White Variation

c9ccea26c2865130003e15637002a8abI don’t have much narrative for this week–just a surprising volume of Snow White art that I discovered in less time than you think.  I’m not sure why I find the volume and variation so interesting, but I do. (My wife doesn’t–she just looked over my shoulder and said “I think people are sick of Snow White–I know I am.”)


I have to admit, however, that I never really thought about Snow White as a sex symbol, even after seeing that mural that started this all, on the side of an RV back in 1990.  Some people clearly do.  Indeed, some people aren’t just content with drawing Snow White–they want to BE Snow White.

We’ve got Snow White who looks like she’s from a 1920’s silent movie…











Or from a cutesy 1930’s movie….










Marie Antoinette Steampunk Snow White…












Science Fiction Warrior Princess Snow White…

Snow White By Mike Roshuk Photography












“Apocalyptic Snow White” (also known as “Great Abs Snow White”)…












Is That An Owl In Your Pocket or Are Just Happy To See Me Snow White…












Solemn Snow White…












Are Those Pants or What? Snow White











Snow White You Dated Briefly in College, Never Introduced To Your Parents, and Still Kind of Miss Sometimes…

regret white











“Will Spank For Food” Snow White…












“Oh My” Snow White

velvet snow white











Sullen Pothead Vampire Snow White








And, finally, my Personal Favorite….Snow Black.

Snow Black


The Saturday Morning Snow White Variations 1


As I’ve mentioned elsewhere–most recently in a post I’ve already written that you haven’t seen yet!–I like having themes woven through this blog, little bits of this and that that serve as prompts and inspirations when I have time to write, or as visual filler when I don’t.  The Saturday Morning Snow White Variations will be another such theme for the next several months.  But why?

It happened like this.  In 1990, just west of Blue Earth, Minnesota I stopped for airstreamsome reason or another and ran into a guy with an old Airstream RV which he’d kept polished to a perfect stainless steel glint, like one of the Lone Ranger’s bullets writ large.  It was impressive, but even better was that he’d had a large mural of Snow White painted across the rear side panel of the thing, in the fashion of old-school World War II era airplane nose cone art–but this wasn’t Uncle Walt’s Snow White.  Her heavenlyblouse was cut low, showing way too much Magic Kingdom for Disney, and she wore garters and hose on her endless legs.  She looked a lot like the first image at the top of the page, except that she wasn’t skirtless–her dress was just hiked up quite a bit, and there weren’t any squirrels.  In her outstretched hand she held a shiny red apple, not pondering it herself but offering it as a tantalizing treat, as if she was Eve herself.

I was out of film. Having squandered my last frames on the massive Jolly Green Giant statue in Blue Earth, I’d figured on securing more Kodachrome for the Corn b0edc54f198741ab0c6d7af84112165aPalace and parts west in Mitchell, just up the road a piece, but the image stuck in my mind until a few weeks ago when it occurred to me that something so magnificent might have caught more eyes than mine, and a photo might be found on the wacky wide web, even 24 years after the fact.  Alas, no–but I haven’t given up.  More to the point, during my search I discovered a remarkable volume and wide range of Snow White illustrations, many of them quite evocative–maybe even provocative–to the point where I feel comfortable saying that the chaste princess of the forest must be one of the most ubiquitous inspirations for fetishistic illustrations on the net.  I’ve collected several dozen of the best and will offer them serially, until I run out–or get bored.

2a7686cc85ca35775560ac1c96413031In the meantime, if you’ve ever seen the Snow White RV, or better still know where I can get a picture, let me know. The owner and his girlfriend were towing a sharp, ligher blue 1970’s Opel Manta behind the rig.  Both of them would have to be at least 85 years old by now, but I’d like to think he’s still out there, traveling the highways, causing frazzled parents to frantically scramble to cover their impressionable children’s eyes.


Photo I Like Uncategorized

Still Cold As Hell

It’s still cold, cold, cold.  At least the latest (guffaw) “Storm of the Century” glanced by us, dropping about an inch of powder, after the regional meteorologists bent over backwards and lost their shit playing Chicken Little and pledging a foot of heavy wet snow.  I love wearing sweaters, but this is getting a little old and getting there fast.

So, despite the recent over-abundance of scantily clad women on this blog–(okay, there were about 2, maybe 3–at least I’m trying)–I offer this balm to the season, straight from some kid on Tumblr.