But is there an oyster bar?
Wednesday, Jan. 11, 2006 at 10:15 a.m.
Yesterday I spent most of the day knitting attempting to knit, hacking up phlegm, and watching a rather good documentary called Hell�s Highway: the True Story of Highway Safety Films which featured the group who began filming roadside accidents as a lark. Seriously, the guy couldn�t sleep so he began hanging out at the police station. When a �signal 30� (the code for fatal auto accident) came in, he asked the police chief if he could go out too and film the accident, since police photographers were out there anyway. So began a long and fruitful business that traumatized many a youngster in the 1950�s-1970�s. This was probably the first time blood was shown in all its Technicolor glory, and the camera lingered on those poor twisted bodies to drive . . . that . . . point . . . home . . . with . . . a . . . William Shatner brick. Nowadays, a release would need to be signed before such a film was made! And furthermore, would the films actually work? We look at them today as hokey 50�s nonsense, a time capsule of exploitation. In fact, these films are put on compilation discs so that weirdos like yours truly can watch them in a festival setting. Many were lampooned on MST3K. Okay, not the gruesome traffic ones, more of the Social Engineering ones.
One of the more interesting interviews on the disc were two brothers that saw one of the later Highway Safety Patrol films called The Child Molester. This was made in the mid-late 60�s, I think, but these boys saw it as kindergartners in 1973. This film was done in the standard style of HSP films, namely, let�s show some gruesome close-up results of stranger danger. Okay, not exactly age appropriate, is it?? And even the brothers admit the film really did nothing to dissuade them from talking to strangers, just give them horrific nightmares about dismemberments and disembowelments.
But today we have Grand Theft Auto, Rotten.com, Maury Povich, and ER so are we any different? Or even more voyeuristic because we actively seek these things out as opposed to being forced to see them, even if it�s not a la Clockwork Orange? Ah, there will always be sick puppies, won�t there? The difference is how we act out in our daily lives, in reality to other people. And I don�t want to hear about perceived reality, I got into screaming fights about that with K and M while drinking heavily in Mexico about that subject, a fight which I suppose ended when we lost our clothes and ended up in the ocean shook hands and made up.
Um, yeah. Let�s change the subject. I�ve got a bunch of pictures of signs.
Okay, I�m not taking my car here:
Well, maybe just for an oil change. Or new wiper blades. But nothing else. On the other hand, I think the poster of this sign is merely trying to take advantage of the befuddled mind of the person with a few alcoholic beverages under his/her belt:
Okay, I used to go to this bar in Florida, I started going there when I was well, way underage. At that time this said bar was still rather small and they served beer and drink and burgers and kosher sammiches that were so HUGE that they boasted if you could finish 2 of them in one sitting, you�d get a t-shirt and an alka-seltzer. Anyway, there was a little hallway that led to the bathrooms and over the hallway was a neon sign that read �Loan Dept�. I always thought that was funny. Also, on the doors of the bathrooms were signs. One said �To the Ladies� Room� with an arrow, and the other said �To the Men�s Room� with an arrow pointing the other direction. Now imagine a Friday night with a bunch of drunk people all ending up in the wrong bathroom. Classic!
Now this sign wins my award for The Most Imaginative One-Stop Shop as of Today:
Heh heh. If my Hubster could have figured out a way to incorporate camping somehow into our wedding/reception/honeymoon he would have been such a happy camper, all puns intended. So far he has been unsuccessful in luring me out to sleeping on a rock in the middle of nowhere with the scorpions and snakes and javelinas that are sure to gnaw my leg off. Sorry. That kind of thing is not a holiday! Beaches and sun and room service is, thank you very much. And I don�t think I�ll get room service here:
Actually, I don�t want room service from here, thank you again.