`

 

 

Stepped outside the building today for a consultation with a small cigar, and talked to Tex, one of the security guys for the TV crew. He'd heard they're boarding up the building soon. Just in case.

One of those windows, he said, pointing to the big pristeen panes, costs $10,000.

All the more incentive to destroy them, of course. Break enough expensive glass, and you bring capitalism to its knees. Ideally, the building empties out, goes into receivership, all the stakeholders lose money, the banks fail, and then the empty stage is set for a new plot! And when that doesn't happen? Proof that the efforts must be redoubled.

A lot of the bastards that torched part of Minneapolis were from elsewhere - 'burbs, other cities. Tourists. I feel the same animus towards people who do not work downtown but would love to put a brick through a window. I wonder how many people feel a sense of protectiveness about downtown these days, or whether there's a subtle shunning, a turning away with sad regret. Hurts to consider, so they don't.

On my walk around the formerly bustling downtown, headed over Marquette . . .

Fresh wood. Cut through the back of the Baker building, one of those routes you know if you carry the entirety of the skyway system in your head, and you decide to go this way instead of that way because you haven't gone this way in a while.

A while ago I posted a picture of the benches. They had a note saying the benches were not for use anymore. Because COVID. People might sit there, and there wasn't anyone coming along to scrub off the infection after every use.

So they removed the benches.

There are video monitors in the area. One of them is glitching.

They might want to think about the wording on this one.

I have more - there's the disturbing new wrinkle in the Office  Coffee situation - but it'll have to wait. The Giant Swede and Hercules the Crazy Uke were over to celebrate the Swede's birthday, and life > blogging.

 

 

Think of this as a train set in the basement. That's what it is. Pity the man who finishes his model train tableau, and realizes I am tired of it, and weary of tinkering.

Everywhere I looked there was something wrong. The signage was insufficient. I wasn’t putting up signs to bring people to certain attractions. The ground is bare. The trees aren't right. I did not correctly set my janitor parameters and people are leaving the park because of unattended vomit. ALWAYS THE VOMITING. I have a hobby that revolves around micromanaging digital vomit.

I am bailing on Seaview Park, but let us take one last look at sunset. The Sci-Fi park, the main walkway, the fake city. It's all horrible. No, really. Remember, this was just a test! Yeah, that's right, it was all practice.

The fake city was practice; I had no intention of developing that into anything. Just wanted to see what all the buildings looked like, lined up.

Let us also wonder why there is a man with a skull for a head at the bottom, walking around in the classic "I really have to urinate" crouch:

 

That's because there's a Horror Theme Park DLC, which spawns characters who bought a skull mask at a store. I don't know why they have to pee. They've just passed two bathrooms. Maybe the bathrooms were full of vomit.

I found an earlier version of the terrain, scoured it, expanded the boundaries - didn’t know I could make it bigger. Ground zero. Square one.  Downloaded tons of user-made mods.  Objective: granular detail. Make custom movies for the signage. Build shops. Apply new knowledge, like how to make plazas.

Next week, we start over.

 

And now . . . a new feature that will bring some cul-chah to our Thursdays. Obviously, I wrote this earlier.


Cmon, you guys, I hate to see you fight like this. Can’t we all get along?


The translation of the page’s notes: “Set of historical scenes from the Revolutionary, Napoleonic or War of 1870 periods.”

I’m assuming, based on scant research, that the war of 1570 applies to the image on the right, and it’s Suzanne Didier.

Executed by the HUNS. I can find nothing other than a single mention in a piece about late 19th century patriotism lessons for French girls.

By the way, I manipulated this one to repair and restore. It originally looked like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fife thousand souls. The Wikipedia entry editorializes a bit: "Brewton was ranked as one of the 100 best small towns in America in Norman Crampton's book, The 100 Best Small Towns in America(1995) Brewton has a unique combination of wealth, natural resources and good public schools that are unusual for rural South Alabama."

The tornado done took the whole town, but spared the theater?

Actually, no. As far as I can tell from cinema treasures, this was a reconstruction of a downtown movie theater, put on the outskirts as a community-info center.

Odd, but not unwelcome.

 

I don’t know what he’s doing to that tree.

I know what the truck is doing, and that’s carrying trees away.

 

That poor building in the middle. Even in its prime, it was a misbegotten thing.

“I need a way to let folks now we’re not open for business, today, or ever.”

Welcome to the Exhibitionists Who Like to Stand on Tippy Toe Center, how may I help?

 

Good Lord:

That’s the definition of writhing with ornamentation, and I just hope they let everyone out before they glassed it up for good.

Well, they tried:

When you play the game so fast on a slow card, and the textures don’t load when you enter a new room:

Running the railroad smack down the middle of main street has a peculiar effect on the siting of the buildings, and the way they relate to each other, or don’t.

Luttrell Hardware, 1912. Seems that was a good year for Brewton.

 

One of the largest stores between this bigger city and another bigger city, according to the historic preservation nomination form.

We know it had a neighbor, once.

One could speculate that the store that collapsed, or burned, was called Anti’s.

You wonder if the fellow who built the place on the left ever kicked himself, because heck, he could’ve put up another story, too. Rented it out. Made a little extra.

The possibilities of that second floorf, fascinate me. One guy with a desk and a filing cabinet? Or a rented room for hired men?

 

Some towns get the ornate Federal buildings. Some get grey WPA machines for living. And then there’s this style . . .

. . . which isn’t.

That’s it.

That’s Brewton, more or less.

That'll do; the usual round-up tomorrow.

 

 

 

 
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