That one thin line tells you an intelligent species has evolved and is making its mark. Millions of years, nothing did anything. Rocks fell. Rocks eroded. Things grew and perished. Nothing mattered. It matters now, though.

The full picture:

Here's something from the museum I forgot to add yesterday - a scrap of newspaper found in an old house, used as insulation.

Suffice to say that three out of four words are correct.

A little googling turned up some interesting ads. COMPARABLE TO THE HEALING GOD. You know, the one of 292 AD.


The subject I said I’d discuss - how I ruined and/or saved a three-hour shuttle ride - will be used for column fodder. Sorry to make the Bleat feel like it gets the scraps, but when you have a sure-fire idea for the paying job, that’s where it goes.

I will note this: Breckenridge was about 100 miles from the Denver airport, and the trip took three hours. The shuttle had to pick up other people. You can’t complain about that. It’s part of the deal. But some of the others were in remote lodges at the end of washboard roads, and nothing makes you feel like the trip will take forever like going away from the final destination at 10 MPH.

Well, nothing you can do about it. Just sit in the middle seat and enjoy the astonishing scenery, albeit through a mesh of small black dots that cover up the windows and keep the interior of the vehicle dim.

Sitting outside in the gazebo. One nervous cricket obsessing over the temperature. It’s almost like he’s hyperventilating. I wonder if any of his friends will come over with a tiny paper bag. That would be cute.

A few more notes about Colorado. I took a look at the Loveless Pass on Google street view, and they show a winter scene. Fresh snow, roads covered, NO RAILS. And of course no lights.

A review on (apparently was taken but is still available) has this, and tell me when you cock an eyebrow Spock-like:

Located on the Continental Divide in the Front Range west of Denver, in the winter the road can be downright terrifying at times. (Snip)

It is a fairly steep climb with hairpin turns and amazing views down into the valley of I-70 below. It can be a little scary though, since most of the views are not blocked by a guard rail and it is easy to imagine yourself careening down the mountain. Steep grades and tough weather conditions have made it the location for many unfortunate events throughout the past few decades. Just like there are many Titlemax reviews online, there are many reviews and personal experiences from drivers about dangerous roads like this one.

The Titlemax link goes to a Georgia loan company. There is one review. The “personal experiences” line goes to a page where people leave more reviews of Titlemax. Second one:

Don't waste your time with this company because it only takes a pandemic and working in an office by yourself for them to fire you. They don't care about none of that or all the time you spent in the office alone trying to use their worthless marketing campaigns and how you sacrificed your time with your family to keep their doors open during the holidays and those ridiculous hours that had to be worked and you are the only one there to work them.

Two stars out of five. What would it have taken to earn but one?

Anyway, it’s an odd thing to pop up in the middle of a dangerous road review.


This is the town where I was. Historic district, reclaimed and refurbished old buildings.

There's "restored," and there's this, which is not "restored."

I mean, let us count the ways.

Anyway. It was a great trip, even if it ended in the Denver Airport. I just don't like it. Nothing personal, guys. I also didn't like this on the plane, because it seemed ridiculous. Or dated. Except it wasn't; the entire airplane experience is a trip back to Maskworld.

Are we done with this dystopian play-acting yet?




It’s 1918.

Help beat the Hun by raising fowl in your backyard:

"Game Farming for Profit and Pleasure." I think after a while you're just happy to get rid of them.


The days of all-purpose wax are behind us:

Now the marketers are smarter, and know that use-specific products make us feel smart and in-the-know. Only an idiot uses car wax for the dinner table!

War War WAR: the ads were full of it, and as with WWII, all the big brands tried to hang some patriotic wreaths around their products.

In this case, it’s the natural connection between tires, and sea-faring vessels.

Advertising really has gotten more sophisticated and artistic in the last ten years.

Do note the brand:

Indian made Havoline? Wasn’t that a Texaco brand? Eventually, yes. The Texas Company bought Indian in 1931.

Pantasote made the roofs of cars. The entirety of its wikipedia entry: “Pantasote is an imitation leather material made by the Pantasote Company, beginning in 1891. It was a durable, relatively inexpensive material used as upholstery and for tents and awnings.”

Ah, but now it’s upscale.

Ohhhhh, sure it got little heat-arrows to the corner of another room. Only if it was stifling in the main room.

And now we seem to backslide 10 years, in terms of style:

But as with every advertising era, the new and old coexist. But the duration of the shared space would grow smaller as the years went on.

All well and good until someone climbs up on it, and it falls off the wall and shatters into sharp piece and the kid falls on it and cuts his leg open.

I still have the scar.

We’ve done the Davey Docs before.

It was the estate of Joseph Choate. It has a wikipedia page here. The house was designed by ol’ Stanny White, capital fellow, and it’s still around today - as a National Landmark.

That'll do. Still no comments - yesterday was an exception because I uploaded without previewing in Dreamweaver, which is the thing that kills it. Sorry. Working on a fix.