Daily Archives: April 9, 2014

Sarcophageal cancer risks

I don't understand this gravestone item except the foot in the lower right corner.  I understand the foot, mostly.

King James 1 died of sarcophageal cancer in 1625 ce. I don’t understand this gravestone item except the foot in the lower right corner. I understand the foot, mostly.

Hi Readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I have some loose ends here in need of exploitation, same as everything else we humans touch need exploiting.  These are photos not quite lousy enough in concept to justify tossing them, but not juicy enough to justify a blog entry built around them.

Olathe Community Theater Association - one block east, currently  the eastern extremity of my attempts to walk somewhere.  Easternmost bastion of artsy fartsyism from where I live and breathe.

Sarcophagus of a church:  Olathe Community Theater Association – one block east, currently the eastern extremity of my attempts to walk somewhere. Easternmost bastion of artsy fartsyism from where I live and breathe.

For instance [above], Olathe, KS is full of neighborhood churches gone to meet Jesus leaving behind useful buildings to be converted by sinners into nothing particularly holy.

Back when everyone thought radioactivity was harmful to human beings a person would see a lot of these.  Today you have to visit a ghost-town to find them.  Anachronistic tomfoolery.  How dare they deny science by being scared of a little radioactivity?

Back when everyone thought radioactivity was harmful to human beings a person would see a lot of these. Today you have to visit a ghost-town to find them. Anachronistic tomfoolery. How dare they deny science by being scared of a little radioactivity?

Sarcophagus of Sunflower US Army Ammunition Plant contains lots of smaller sarcophagi above and below:

Sunflower Ammo shot its wad but that's no reason to get careless.  Hope you folks found other jobs.

Sunflower Ammo shot its wad but that’s no reason to get careless. Hope you folks found other jobs.

Let’s not forget Dorothy, the Tin Man, et all while we explore the ammo plant sarcophagus. [ http://kensas.kdhe.state.ks.us/certop/ISL_Detail?id=C404600052]

West Side Story said it best:  Nobody wants a fella with a social disease.

West Side Story said it best: Nobody wants a fella with a social disease.

There’s a small problem on the cleanup thing.  They runned spang out of money.  The sarcophagus of a once-useful piece of real estate after all the profiteers ran and hid, disclaimed kinship.

Possibly too much honesty displayed here.

Possibly too much honesty displayed here.

Some things probably shouldn’t be put on a sign.

Don't be drinking cereal malt beverages around here.  Whatever the hell those might be.

Don’t be drinking cereal malt beverages around here. Whatever the hell those might be.

This is the nature park outside Sunflower Ammo Plant.

Kansas Museum for the Deaf - one block north, the extremity of my walking distance northward.  Northernmost bastion of artsyfartsyism from where I live and continue to breathe.

Kansas Museum for the Deaf – one block north, the extremity of my walking distance northward. Northernmost bastion of artsyfartsyism from where I live and continue to breathe.

Back in Olathe, one block north.

I’m feeling much better now.  Glad we had this little talk.

Old Jules

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Desoto Surprise

Afterthought:  I just found a website telling a lot more about Dean Weller, the man doing all this, and providing far better photos:

http://www.kansastravel.org/grandpasoldfordgarage.htm

Jeanne's son, Michael and I stopped here for a closer look at the car in the window.

Jeanne’s son, Michael and I stopped here for a closer look at the car in the window.

 

A gas pedal, stick for directional control, another for braking, another for gearshift.  Slow and less slow.

A gas pedal, stick for directional control, another for braking, another for gearshift. Slow and less slow.

Hi Readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

I had no idea what was in there when I suggested Michael pull over for a look at that car.  But as we got out and peered through shadowing hands to overcome the reflections an old guy sitting in a truck out front spoke to us:

You can come in for a closer look if you want to.”  He got out and unlocked the door to the building.  The place is jam-packed with cars he’s build or restored.  He’s 88 years old been doing this since he retired in the late 1960s.

see through model a1

Built of iron bar shaped to resemble a Model A body, runs good though breezy.

 

They don't make them like this anymore.  Never did, in fact.

They don’t make them like this anymore. Never did, in fact.

Two stories packed with old cars and trucks.  Woodies, racecars, whatever.

Impossible to examine any one car because they're squeezed in tight to make more room.

Impossible to examine any one car because they’re squeezed in tight to make more room.

No fewer than a couple of dozen.  More than enough to serve an 88 year old man for basic transportation.

He says he's run out of room on both floors so he won't be starting any new projects.

He says he’s run out of room on both floors so he won’t be starting any new projects.

Sometimes if you bet a few minutes of life and say some magic words the Universe will cooperate and shoot a surprise out of nowhere.

Old Jules

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers

arrows

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Predominantly draft era veterans end up at VA hospitals I’ve observed.  And we’ve got all the warts and scars to suggest we were a flawed segment of humanity.  Truth is, watching the mannerisms and behaviors we still are.  Flawed, certainly, many also pathetic as individual personalities.  Needy.  Obnoxious.

But strangely enough, there’s a constant undercurrent of moments cutting through the lies on top of lies and BS revealing something I’m ashamed to admit I suspect is a sort of brotherhood.  A smile and wink in an elevator from a guy in a wheelchair with more problems than me.  Thumbs up signs when someone gets called to see one of the sawbones or other ‘team’ members.

Granted, most of the conversations going on are lies about things that happened when in the military.  But when I brought up the subject of the Afghan/Iraq vets suicides the lies stopped and were replaced by frowning thought.  A momentary pause to try to understand.

It’s there to be recognized.  And it can also be found in the mention of the guys on ‘the 10th floor’.  The guys who are ‘still in Vietnam’.  Everyone knows about those guys and they only get mentioned in muted tones, phrases expressing horror and awe.

We few.  We happy few.  We band of brothers who aren’t on the 10th floor.

Old Jules