One of the pleasures of working in an abandoned building is that you have the entire public spaces together, and if you’re walking through the great atrium listening to “The Blue Danube,” you can whistle along and no one will care. I advise against twirling, though; there’s probably someone watching on the cameras.

The population of the building is probably in the low dozens, but there’s still someone who comes in a suit every day and watches the monitors.

Daughter’s first day at Target was fine - she got to go in THE BACK, and tour what she described as a “labyrinthine warehouse,” which pleased me because she used the word “labyrinthine.” Interesting fact: Target employees supply their own red shirts. You’d think they would be keen to lock everyone into a particular shade, but no. As long as it’s red.

I’d say more but I’m sure she signed an NDA.

Calm day. Hot and sunny. Just me and Reusse at the office today, and we unloaded a bit on the whole Poison is Everywhere mindset.

By the way - I keep coming across these Last Man on Earth moments. It's just eerie how everything at the office stopped.


Made Butter Chicken, walked the dog, then sat outside to write in the twilight . . .

Until I got the first official Ankle Mosquito Bite. They love the ankle, for some reason; it’s like they’re all reincarnated Victorian voluptuaries.

Now then . . . and remember, this is usually about something else.




How long will this be allowed to stand?


As I’ve been saying for all my bottom-shelf / old name reviews: it’s okay. Apparently this thin bottle was only used for a while, and was intended to give it a classier look than the brand deserved. It’s now back to a squat bottle with a busier label.

The taste profile is best described as boring to the point of non-existence, so there’s no point in using it in mixed drinks. It will just run away and hide.

It’s the name that’s suspect now, since it’s directly tied to the Confederacy. What we don’t know is what the yell was. The wikipedia article says it was “a high-pitched "Wa-woo-woohoo, wa-woo woohoo.” Or not. “Though hardly a definitive description, having been published some 70 years after the war ended, Margaret Mitchell's classic Civil War novel Gone with the Wind has a character giving the yell sounding as a "yee-aay-eee" upon hearing the war had started.


In an instant every voice with one accord vigorously shouted the 'Rebel yell,' which was so often heard on the field of battle. 'Woh-who-ey! who-ey! who-ey! Woh-who-ey! who-ey!' etc. (The best illustration of this "true yell" which can be given the reader is by spelling it as above, with directions to sound the first syllable 'woh' short and low, and the second "who" with a very high and prolonged note deflecting upon the third syllable "ey.")"- Colonel Harvey Dew of the 9th Virginia Cavalry, in Century Illustrated Magazine (1892)

None of these sounds came to mind while drinking the stuff.

Anyway, it came to mind today after the end of the Aunt Jemima / Uncle Ben products, and I was explaining this to Rotaria at dinner. Why is bad for him to be Uncle? Well, it goes back a ways. Just today while going through a small-town newspaper from 1916 or so, I came across a "humorous" story about a "colored gentleman" giving testimony in a court, and the judge referred to him as "Uncle Wash."The uncle, or aunt, was a term used as a condescending mock-honorific, and saved one the horrible situation of using "Mister" or "Mrs" when refering to African-Americans, because they couldn't even. As we say.

"Uncle Ben" may sound friendly! And we don't use those terms anymore! But let's say the man's last name was Smith, and they rebranded it as "Mr. Smith's Rice."

Compare those two - Uncle Ben, and Mister Smith. Even today the difference is obvious.


And there has to be a but. I mean, there can be a but, right? We don't just nod and move on, because the Corrective Act ends the need for any other discussion? On Twitter - and there's the line that tells you we're about to belly-flop naked into the flaming mosh pit - there was debate about whether the actual historical figures behind the brands should be forgotten or memory-holed, and someone said:



What's the line that stuck in my craw, which, I admit, has remarkable adhesive properties these days?


We'll survive.

Of course we will. It's like saying "this isn't a hill worth dying on." Few hills are. We'll survive can be applied to anything. We'll survivbe without Strauss. We'll survive without Fragonard. We'll survive without any sort of beauty or art or intellectual endeavor that does not directly affect agriculture or medicine. It's not an argument.

Takeaway for the dim: "Blogger compares the loss of Aunt Jemima to erasing Beethoven."

There are people that stupid. And somehow, they survive. Why these days they absolutely flourish.








Small town, founded as a mining camp. This downtown has, or is, a Historical District. And there is plenty of history:

"Due to Globe's relative isolation from the rest of Arizona and its proximity to the San Carlos Apache reservation, Globe remained a frontier town. Globe's history is laced with many historic events such as murders, stagecoach robberies, outlaws, lynchings, and Apache raids. Natiotish, a San Carlos Apache, left the reservation with a group of about 50 men and continued to attack ranchers and miners."

That's not the whole of it.

In 1884 the surviving Clanton brothers Ike and Phineas arrived in Apache County after the infamous gunfight at the OK Corral in Tombstone. Ike was eventually killed by a local deputy sheriff, and Phineas, after serving prison time for a stage robbery, moved to Globe, where he died of pneumonia and was buried in 1906.

Let's take a look.

That’s one confused post-modern attempt to be historic and respectful of the genre, isn’t it?

Or is it actually old and bad? (Upon reading, it seems that it's old and . . . peculiar.)

Skinned or new?

I think the answer is in the stones on the ground floor, which look like they come from a post-war renovation. The rest of the facade was done later. Whatever or whenever, the result has no era to call its own.

OUMB, except it’s not that bad.

Nice 50s vibe, and it’s not from the 50s.


Poorly mauled. Looks as if they sprayed some dyed aggregat on it.

“Oh, come on, I can’t see why ADA rules would affect our historical building in anyway.

I suppose sure if you have lots of small meteors


The Elephant Man school of architecture was never my favorite.

Those devious Masons . . .

. . . they hid the right side of the building in the 5th dimension.



A hot time could be had here in 1942

I'll bet every bar or restaurant owner who installed those windows regretted it later, because they were always worrying about someone breaking it.

Gorgeous! I have a soft spot for incredibly busy classical decorations.

The front:

Whole building:

From the Perry Mason school of building rehabbing:

Boring, but every town needs one: it puts down a marker for a particular time.

It was the Tonto Hotel. Built in 1916. Vacant since the Ford Adminstration.

Yes, I do love these. Simple modernism.

Built by the Elks, it seems.

Perhaps there aren’t any Elks anymore.

It’s like they hired a guy who showed up with a stucco blower and said “use a tint that further diminishes its uniqueness, okay?



“Well, Mr. Dice, if you don’t want to put your name on the building, what would you suggest?”

That screen! This is one of the most unique post-war rehabs I’ve seen.

And this is not.

Dad left the building to his two sons, thinking it would help them work together.

Some images from the Lost World await. See you around.






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