Through The Looking Glass

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

I don't know who the artist called "soup" is, but
he's good.
The white rabbit from Alice In Wonderland looks
Disney-Authentic, while the other one does the job
it was intended to do rather well.
Airbrush on brick isn't an easy medium to work in
so I want to take this opportunity to give the guy
a public pat on the back.
This work is outside San Antonio's White Rabbit, a venue for bands young and old, new
and world-famous but mainly that are heavy and loud.
I don't go there myself having gotten the headbanging
and thrashing out of my system years ago, but if I were
18 again the White Rabbit is where I would play.

Riding The Bart

This marks the first time I have ever featured
material that wasn't my own.
Check out this photoblog post by Matthew Robertson.
It's a Zzakk's Garage-style catch that makes me
jealous as all hell.
Riding The Bart by Matthew Robertson

Pretty Fly For A White Guy

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I'm not going to mince words here.
I fucking hate flies.
Moving to upstate New York was my first real exposure
to these aerial bitches.
Bluebottle, greenbottle, house and horse.
The freaking horseflies would wait for you to
get over the last attack psychologically before
nailing you again at the worst possible moment.
It felt like someone jabbing a rusty icepick into
your arm, leg, and/or face.

Conditions in my current part of the world don't favor
flies and for that I'm glad.
When I see them now, I think 'photo-op'.
But there's always a little voice in my head telling
me to run.
And to get the poison spray, shotgun, WD40 Flamethrower....

Oversized Things

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Shot over a fence with razor-wire on top, to protect it
from the old-school punks who lust after double cassette
boomboxes so big they need a truck to haul them around.

I guess an iPod would look too plain blown up to giant
proportions but seriously...a double cassette boombox?
The radio station that brings this dinosaur out to events
must have a playlist that's mostly hair-metal.
Although the flames are a classic touch, the settings on
the fake graphic EQ are contemptible since the only music
they will improve is Coldplay (Tofu U2), and that's
only because anything you do will improve
Coldplay's garbage including listening to it underwater
or setting off strings of firecrackers the entire time
it's playing.
Being dead helps, too.

And there you have it, today's Utter Crap Rock Report.
Stay Tuned for traffic conditions and weather.

Damaged

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

This Nissan is damaged all to hell.
It would be funny to say that
"The school bus did it!" but that just
isn't true.
Because the car is blocking the left lane and part
of the center 'turn' lane, the bus did have to cross the yellow lines a
little in order to clear the intersection and
deliver it's precious cargo in a timely manner.
But the driver knew as well as I did that there was no
other way to get where we needed to be without a
bit of creative driving.
I was on my way to the CostCo liquor store, which in
my book is every bit as important as dropping snotty
little future criminals at home to raid mom's stash.
At least I pay for my own, and in fact save quite a
lot of money since CostCo's liquor department has the
same warehouse pricing without requiring a membership,
per Texas (and other state's) law.
A well-kept secret until now. You're welcome.

This post also alludes to the fact that my camera is
damaged, internally.
Most likely it's the faulty CCD sensors that were made
by Sony and installed in their cameras as well as those
from Canon and Fuji.
Some days there is random banding across the image, and
some days (like today) it works perfectly.
So I'm going to keep using it as much as possible until
it craps out completely and I can get it fixed for free.

The only problem is when.
During my trip to the beach in a few weeks?
On the day when the aliens land their ship on top
of Bigfoot's treehouse, and I'm right there?

It's like holding a ticking time-bomb in your hands.
My confidence is damaged.

"We Will Deliver"

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

As part of my ongoing efforts to elevate my photos of
litter and trash into the realm of important social
commentary, mainly through the use of overwrought prose
featuring selective utilization of words like shit
and idiot, I present this latest installment.

Dedicated to the newest regular visitor to Z'sG who
has outted himself by leaving comments on this dubious
site, and is coincidentally a man with no small interest
in railroading.
That makes at least five of us who not only hang out in
the garage sometimes, but have also published our photos
and/or essays on respectable train-related websites.

Since y'all make up the majority of my repeat visitors
here, do I need to explain that this is a train crew's
ice bucket, usually filled with bottled water but destined
through the hand-me-down process to become a transient's
toilet some day?
I thought not.

The bucket was manually rotated by your's truly into
position to maximize readability of the text, and is
thus rendered ineligible for a Pulitzer Prize in the
field of Photo Journalism.
I may have also rotated the image itself to my personal
tastes, but retain no clear recollection of doing so.

This is the fifteenth post to feature train-related
images and commentary at Zzakk's Garage, or roughly
ten percent. With such a low ratio I must assume that
we're mainly here to see me type the word "shit" every
few days.
Hell, that's what keeps me coming back.
Used in context, Spelling Bee Style: "Shit, I wonder if I
said 'shit' on my blog last night?"

I'm thinking of using "douchebag" more often, which is
currently an under-utilized old favorite among guys in my
generation.
Used in context SBS: "I am a douchebag for thinking this
post was funny."

Target's New Look?

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

Is it my imagination, or is Target letting their image
slide a bit?
Like an exotic dancer who descends into prostitution,
the outer veneer of semi-respectability is the first
thing to go.

Free Range Chicken Broth?

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

I guess I'm out of the loop on things like this.
The difference between a chicken raised in a commercial
facility of the worst kind and one who lived a more
'natural' life with space to run and eat bugs and
flap it's wings...well this is a no-brainer.
The free range chicken will look better when alive, and
be more tasty and nutritious and additive-free when dead.
Does the same hold true for liquified chickens?

I guess I always thought that the free range argument was
also about quality of life for the animals you're going
to eat, so I was surprised that it applied to the ones
you're going to drink.

I also thought that the green people who care about such
things didn't litter, but I was wrong about that, too.
Live and learn.

Fashion Victim

(Click on the photo to enlarge, or not)

It's been at least six months since I last
muttered "pull up your damn pants you dumbass"
under my breath.
I thought this trend had finally run it's course.
Shit, if you can't run away from the cops because
your trousers keep tripping you up, maybe it's a
bad idea to show your ass in public, right?

All I know is that the morons and thugs who started
this fad have learned about the drawbacks and
decided to wear their pants correctly again.
It's summertime, so you can't slip your gun
or knife into a jacket pocket either.
The waistband is all you have, G.

Some people are hopelessly behind the times.
And some people are idiots.
This guy might be both.

Late Again

(Click on the photo to enlarge)

Wish I had happened by this spot right
after the hydrant was knocked over.
A wrecked car and water shooting high
in the air would have made this a much
more interesting scene.

What The Hell Happened At QBar?

(Click on the photo to enlarge)
This interesting installation is actually
a broken fountain in front of the entrance to Q-Bar.
Electrical problems with the lights and a leaking
pump mean that I missed a great shot, possibly forever.

Why forever?

Let's back up a bit...
Q-Bar was a neat little nightclub in the former Mama's
building on IH10. The bands liked playing there because it
was small and intimate with crowds that got pretty wild.
It was easy to sound awesome there. Well, it was easy for me.

Today I rolled into the parking lot and noticed a few
things wrong.
Where were all the cars?
Why was the back door already open?
Whose truck is that?
What's that smell?

Upon entering I was greeted by the sights and sounds
of remodeling, and noticed a complete lack of customers
and chairs and music and liquor. Hmmm...

After talking with the property owner I can file this report:
The club's management was several months behind on their rent,
and everything inside is now missing as are the managers.
Sound equipment, computers, lights, booze, chairs, video games...
All Gone.
The place was cleaned out, but I'm sure the SAPD will get to the
bottom of this "mystery".
(*cough*cough*cocai__*cough*)


Meanwhile, we have a contract and are ready to play but
in light of the owner's greater losses I doubt anyone
in our organization has the heart to kick them when
they're down.

As for this photo, it was a long exposure with decent
colors but crappy composition. That's because I don't
take my tripod to work, so I shot this by setting the
F717 on a bench and guessing at where it's pointed.
I took a half-dozen shots but wasn't really putting
much effort into it because I was on the phone with
someone I love the whole time.
And I figured I could try again the next time we played
here, which would have been tonight.

So, I got screwed out of my shot.
Okay, now I'm mad.