double diss

I wrote these sentences in an email reply, to a pal this morning:

“No apology needed; you were well behaved.
I have long ago forgiven any suburban-slight or moustache-heckle!

Now, Benicia on the other hand, is known to hold a grudge ;-)
If you want I can send you her zip code...”

the backstory:
Benicia the suburb where our studio is and where we reside most of the time—AND the place that my pal made fun of, and subsequently apologized for in his email.

next:
I wrote an unrelated email reply to another friend just minutes later.
She thanked me (us) for dinner (Monday Night Club.)
Since her email was so sincere, I wanted to turn it on its ear.

So, I sent her succinct sentences thru my favorite online translator. Four times.

The translations went from english to german to french to swedish, then back to english.

Beside being funny, the reason I write this post is because

the translator turned the word:
BENICIA

into:
ASYLUM

?.!

5.0

version 5 point oh!

SAW-ART.com has be redesigned. Woohoo!

The first version of our site (v1.0) went live on the "world-wide-web" back in 1995—a dozen years ago!
Remember the web back then?

The SAW-ART site, has been overhauled 5 times since.

     Check out our new slideshows:

     lifestyle & portraits
     musicians & landscapes
     scapes

We are happy. But unlike Betty and the bow of the nuclear sub, here at WorldHeadquarters, we chose not to smash a bottle-o-bubbly over our panorama of computer monitors.

SAW

p.s. but we did open the “good stuff” & light some candles.

SAW WAS HERE

The  SAW WAS HERE  sticker contest is over.

See the winners in the arrgh! gallery.

And YES, (by poulare demand) there will be another contest.
Email us if you want to be alerted when it happens.

"Nice rock!" — "Grandpa's?"

"Nice rock!" — "Grandpa's?"

Grandpa's (formally known as Grandpa Pigeon's) was lower on the food chain than Wal-mart. A place to buy your snow tires and deodorant.

It was below the hill. Which in our town meant, it was looked down upon by the people on top of the hill. Which is to say, all of C-ville proper. We collectively hated shopping there.
But Grandpa's was a favorable destination for the surrounding poor towns below the hill. It was their mall by default. You would end up at grandpa's a couple time a summer... motor oil and a soccer ball pump. Get in and get out. It was scuzzy.

That's the scoop. With one exception... everybody bought their jewelry there?!

Across the board, highfalutin suburban government and blue collar alike. It if was a tenth anniversary, then Grandpa's for a necklace. Round numbered birthday, Grandpa's for a tennis bracelet.

And most importantly, the engagement ring.


When you knocked up your high school girlfriend — or her best friend, you were Grandpa's bound.

People swore that Grandpa's jewelry was high end quality (and at a "reduced price!")

In a store where everything else was shoddy, the jewelry was supposedly top notch.

"No! It really is!"
It was always a testimonial, not a comment.

Actually a very defensive argument. One not worth challenging.
Because if you did choose to challenge, you would be saying that any of the jewelry that they were given, and that any of the jewelry that they bought people, and any of the jewelry that their relatives bought people, was shit. Having an actual debate on the topic was a "yo mamma" joke. Forget it.

So, engagement rings in the front of the store, ammo in back.

Grandpa Pigeons is now long gone. R.I.P.

- - -

My girlfriend and I are are in our current city San Francisco. Two old friends of ours (that are a couple) are visiting, up from LA.
3 of the 4 of us are from C-ville; my girlfriend is from P-ville — same story different state.

Collectively the four of us have been away from our hometowns for 100 years!
But divide that by 4 and subtract the square root of the Christmases back there... and it is still home, even if it's homely.

News flash! Our friend have just become engaged! The proof is displayed on her finger...
I say, "Nice rock!" — "Grandpa's?"

. . . moment of truth . . .

"Of course not." Fred says. Whew!

And then he went on to tell a story as long as mine.

Seems that the skinny in LA is a "by referral only" phone number passed around. The call leads to a nice South African guy who wholesales to friends, and friends of friends, and friends...

No storefront. Just describe the ring you want and give him two weeks. Wait. Hope you described it right. Then meet him in downtown at his tiny office and trade cash for rock. Sounds like drugs but it is a clean deal. A win win.

Fred has found a new Grandpa.

So funny...

so phoney.

If...

you don't have two drinks next to you,
you're just not trying.

~March 7, 2004

mid-western speak

"friggin frak."

mid-western speak

"melarky."

mid-western speak

"you bet your bippy."

mid-western speak

"diddly squat."

mid-western speak

"zeesh louise!"

mid-western speak

"zeesh-o-moley!"

God damn it...

I'm middle class

&

I'm staying here!

~October 30, 2005

Focus...

is over rated.

~October 6, 2005

At least..

my God talks to me,

even if it's though my
back molar.

It's like...

being a contestant on wheel-o-fortune...

not winning the big prize & being sent home with Rice-o-Roni...


And then really enjoying it.


~February 25, 2006

I am...

a person that photographs,

not a photographer that persons.

- - -

I am a person that writes,

not a writer that persons

mid-western speak

"you nervous hervous?"

I'm...

nostagic for now.

~April 15, 2006

The plot line...

is a twot line.

{About TV show WAB}

SAW saw the future...

and it was not all digital.

~December 19, 2005

My life got a whole lot easier...

once I decided to think of myself as my own mascot.