bigbonton

Your bigbonton.org operatives at One Infinite Loop (the Apple Inc. HQ) have exclusive proofiness of the next Apple product. Our corporate spies used their iPhones to capture and smuggle these images so bigbonton fans can be the first to see:

The pre-release iPad Nano.
Based on the magical and revolutionary Apple iPad - and now it’s smaller!

The image above (dated 04/01/2010) shows the actual iPad Nano workbench.

The beta iPad Nano on the bottom of the image (code named “Three-Alarm”) shows the glow of a lithium-ion hotspot due to battery heat within its ultra-compact housing.
The beta iPad Nano on the top of the image (code named “the Chillaxant”) is cool to the touch, even set in its revolutionary “HD-Backlite” mode.
“The Three-Alarm was just too compact,” lamented one of many Apple designers with the scorched cargo shorts to document how hot a battery can get when in-pocket.

One of the first things you’ll notice about the iPad Nano is how thin and light it is.

“Whether you’re coming or going, our iPad Nano responds to a flick, a press, or in parts of the Southern USA, a mash of a button. The iPad Nano is unlike anything you’ve mashed before, standing or sitting.”
- Apple.com website copy (edited for artistic parody)

What makes the iPad nano even better? Accessories!

Here’s an amazing iPad nano holder that’s built into an everyday article of clothing:

Magically seamless!

God Bless Steve Jobs!
Feb 24, 2010 was the 54th birthday of Steve Jobs.
Hey Steve! I remembered… next year I’ll try to be more prompt in my greetings. Please understand I couldn’t write earlier, had to keep a low profile to protect our bigbonton.org operatives inside One Infinite Loop.
Cool Toys! Cool Tools! Keep ‘em coming.
This post was MADE ON A MAC.
One more time, all together now, “God Bless Steve Jobs!”

Still want to rave on more about Apple and Steve Jobs? Click, you got it.

Posted by bigbonton at 7:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Saw a dozen round bellied robins the other day.
One of them was really getting him some bugs.
They were all hopping and darting in the sun and leaves, making a good lunch from the bugs, grubs, and whatnots that have come up since the ground thawed.

The daffodils are in bloom rather suddenly - seems like last week they weren't even sprouts. But it's like that each springtime, always a pleasant surprise. Just like last year and the year before that, on back to 1804 and beyond.

Decent photos, but it's just a half-effort attempt because the real deal is this wonderful visual, "beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze."
The inward eye, led by Wordsworth, trumps iPhoto, no contest. We all win:

"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

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This is one of the few turkeys to see the sunrise the day after Thanksgiving.
His name is Jake, as in Jake Turkey. More original than naming him Tom.
Turkey Jake has his namesake from an old man with a saggy neck waddle. Human Jake didn’t seem to mind the saggy comparison, although I wonder if he is crying inside or if to him it's all water off a ducks back or maybe saggy human Jake no longer feels emotions…

Old gray turkey Jake is old, even by fowl standards. He’s older than most of the human offspring playing in the yard and has outlived all of his fowl contemporaries. Consequently, Jake has been granted a permanent pardon from ever being considered as sustenance. Smart decision for all, especially since this old bird must be one tough old bird to have escaped the dinner preparation neck-ax, survived nightly raccoon raids, and avoided road and farm vehicles up to November 2007.

As a tangible example of an homage to elders, we sent Jake off to the farm. Meaning the real farm, not the “farm” as in that euphemism for the chopping block and then the carving plate.

Old Jake has not yet “bought the farm” here.
Look closely and there’s a dog in the bottom right of the photo. She's a nice Boykin Spaniel, not likely to agitate the old bird.

Jake is more likely to see tomorrow than many of us, especially if we don’t learn to mend our wicked, wicked ways and remember to say "Yessum" to the ladies, and "Yessur" to the men.
Which leads us to:
“Most all the time, the whole year round,
there ain't no flies on me,
But jest'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin be! “

Click below for wise insight on
just how to behave “Jest 'fore Christmas” according to Eugene Field (1850-1895).

Continue reading "there ain't no flies on me" »

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Alan Greenspan, my man! What a wonderful season we had, back at the turn of the century.
Irrational exuberance + time
= that's the way the cookie crumbles.

Add the realization that ice cream melts, and suddenly life ain't easy.
Lucky for the label-heads and status-needy among us, we're deep into a trend of green-ness.
Reduce, reuse, re-purpose, repair, recycle is not in recession, it's in vogue.
See the fun beauty found in found art:

Feel free to claim your scrimping belt tightening isn't because you are now poor, it's because you're trendy! Join the green sustainable club, be faddish. Reduce, reuse, re-purpose, repair, recycle.

Hard candy Christmas this year? "Sufficient for the day are the troubles thereof," so let's just see if Mama's Little Baby can make it through Thanksgiving without shredded newspaper in a turkey-shaped meat-loaf. Don't knock it, it's high in fiber and loaded with highbrow Steinbeck literary references. [uh-oh, is Steinbeck highbrow? Um, no. Literary genius does not equal highbrow.]

Halloween will be easier, it comes with built-in excuses for otherwise embarrassing actions. Prepare yourself for the economic nadir with a trip to the thrift store - claim to be looking for a funky Halloween ensemble. Act now because after Oct. 31st the gig is up, you'll just be shopping in a thrift store without an excuse.

Or just go hobo. Grow a beard (razors cost money). Oh! Go beat, 2009 is looking so beatnik. Be a beat hobo beatnik cat. A beret and fingerless gloves? Dig it, but not just on Oct 31st, go-hobo, be-beat and drop outwardness until macro-means catch up with micro-ways.

Alan Greenspan sez: "I found a flaw in the modeling structure in how the world works.
I made a mistake in presuming that organizations, banks specifically, are not as protective to the long term survival of their structures as might be expected."

Tell me about it. The corporation has no mind. Or heart or soul. Just add human greed and the awareness that you're leading something considered "too big to fail" and, "Oops! Sorry 'bout that, bail me out Uncle Sammy."

Posted by bigbonton at 2:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

“Carolina Moon, keep shining,
Shining on the one who waits for me,
Carolina Moon, I'm pining,
Pining for the place I long to be,
How I'm hoping tonight, you'll go,
Go to the right window,
Scatter your light, say I'm all right, please do,
Tell her that I'm blue and lonely,
Dreamy Carolina Moon.”

The waning crescent moon and the king of planets, Jupiter.
Jupiter is the biggest planet in our solar system.

This combo looks a lot like the SC state logo, you know, the crescent moon and palmetto tree. A logo that is overdone on belts, lapels, shirts, wallets, golf balls, hats, T-shirts, socks, purses, (let me catch my breath), and bumper stickers, license plates, tattoos, visors, flip flops, crocs, nail appliqués, headbands, and so on... You get the point. Overdone.

Now back to the photo: it's especially nice to have some land in the foreground. The image uses benefits from two worlds - fine light from a sunrise over the ocean framed by live oaks on a barrier island. Land and sea combined forces to bring you this image.
So "'Please enjoy properly' - the Management"

This pre-sunrise moonrise at 5:30 AM occurred on the eve of Earth Day eve April 20, 20009, that's Four Twenty Oh Nine, 4/20. Took a few trial handheld photos from the dock that were too shaky. Got a tripod, went to the dock, shot a few frames and cropped this result.

Been thinking a lot about a phrase,
"We have a whole river between us."
It was initially said to mean,
"We have a lot in common.”
A whole river of relevancy. Connections, references made and understood. A flow between here and there, despite distance, without separation of place or needs of the moment

But life gets in the way and good things get pushed aside.
The symbolic river gets a metaphoric logjam.

Both things are true, there is a river between us but the water is wide.
People don't cross the chasm when it's all oh so irrelevant anyway.

Another phrase that’s been on repeat in the noggin,
something from scuba and Jacques Cousteau and the Talking Heads:
“There is water at the bottom of the ocean.”

Letting the days go by / let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by / water flowing underground
Into the blue again / after the moneys gone
Once in a lifetime / water flowing underground.

Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was.
Appreciate a unique one-of-a-kind pre-sunrise moonrise at
5:30 AM on the eve of Earth Day eve.
April 20, 2009. 420 2009.
Once in a lifetime!

Posted by bigbonton at 6:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Below decks aboard the Poseidon II, the Chief Inversion Mate shows how seriously the maritime outfitters take their 1970’s fiction films (and the 2006 do-over).
As you see in this stealth photo, this bilge is ready for a little rollover action.

“When the mother of all rogue waves appears abeam and
slams us, then we’ll crawl to the lower decks – they’ll be the top decks after the rollover. Then we’ll be ready for rescue from the waterlogged bowels of the overturned ship. Yep, she’s fine and she’ll earn her pride once her bottom is skyward,” according to the shore-starved Mate-in-Waiting.

Equipped with a reasonably comfortable sitting arrangement, art on the walls, and side table whatnot knick-knacks, the First Class 180 Compartment of the Poseidon II shows she’s in touch with her feminine side.
Yar.
Happy April 1st, 2009.

Posted by bigbonton at 9:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Hello, my baby
Hello, my honey
Hello, my ragtime gal
Send me a kiss by wire
Baby, my hearts on fire

Learned a lot while spending time with her. For starters, her Burqa is a very nice material with a silken drape in a eye-catching shade of blue - which was unexpected after having been pre-programmed by Westerners to expect a scratchy stiff fabric in a black drab hue. But no, it's not poorly done, her burqa is actually a nice article of clothing. After seeing her clothing hanging on a hanger (or perhaps dropped carelessly on the floor) then one can understand the rationalizations that go on to perpetuate the wearing of the Burqa. It's a cultural thing, no doubt. Some women wear it with pride because it's the best item they own; to others it's all about cultural identity. There are plenty of reasons that make it okay...

... Having said that... once she slipped it back on over her head it got scary. Over and over, the flash, the shocking realization kept coming that she was in there. Think about it - SHE was IN THERE, yet she couldn't be seen or recognized. She says the lack of sensory comprehension goes both ways - she could hardly see out, so people (well, okay, it's ALL males) sometimes take advantage of her limitations of vision and movement so on the street they'll thump her head and taunt her without recourse; she cannot identify the culprits.

Regardless...
Happy Valentines Day SweetHeart!
Let me call you Sweetheart
I'm in love with you
Let me hear you whisper
That you love me too
Keep the love light glowing
In your eyes so blue (as blue as your Burqa!)
Let me call you Sweetheart
I'm in love with you

For more about burqas, click for wikipedia. Thanks Wikipedia!

And click here so you don't miss their photo proving the color isn't just black!

Posted by bigbonton at 9:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Not trying to be a wise man, but anyone know of a gold, frankincense, and myrrh discount outlet?
Got a cousin that can get it for me wholesale?

Chillax = Chill+relax.
1. To chill and relax simultaneously.
2. To reduce the level of stress by employing a more groovy outlook.

Wordsworth sez:
the world is too much with us;
late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

Quick! Back to the shopping list:
Red apples (little Jimmie doesn’t like green ones), fresh flowers (Maybelle rolled her eyes at my hand gathered bouquet), a new table (she specifically demanded a beige one with a shiny slick surface), ...

Can't stop to talk. Gotta go, the stores are open late for holiday shopping and there’s no parking and I'm not sure what the family likes anymore.
I'm not even sure what the family IS like anymore but I need just a little something wrapped with a bow so . . . for some reason, you know, because that's what I'm supposed to do to be good and I want to be good. I want people to like me, being good is just a means to an end. Not to sound like I'm thinking or anything. Gotta go, the stores are open and I have so much I have to do to be perfect. It’s so hard this year!

PS: Maybe you noticed . . . yes, this is the end of the year upload-a-thon event. All 2008 images must be posted! All jpegs must go! Hurry hurry hurry! We’re bonkers here at the bigbonton discount picture and a story outlet.
No reasonable offer refused! Exclamation mark! Or is that exclamation point! Oh, wait I should have put "?"

More highbrow poetry? Or an explanation of Wordsworth? Thanks Wikipedia!

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We've all heard of soy-based tofurkey, and veggies shaped like burgers, but next year maybe the hot-house melon growers can use a mold to shape this thing into a more fowl-like silhouette?

It could happen. Makes sense. If you think about it.
Makes sense, a fowl sense.

Did you know there are square watermelons nowadays? Yep, it reflects the demographic changes of the nation – as the watermelon goes so goes the nation. (Spare us any 3rd grade mean jokes and you know I know just what you are thinking.)

Watermelons used to be 15 to 20 pounds, but now watermelons are 4 to 6 pounds each – and I thought that they seemed smaller now but figured I’d gotten bigger and had some nostalgia over watermelons.

Why the melon evolution?
Although we have larger fridges there are more demands on the space. Also we have smaller families and fewer watermelon parties, people eat alone or in small groups instead of having an all out cutting the cool melon event. Thus, the market forces morphed the melon (via the field labs of clever Ag majors).

But that sounds like summer, let's get back to Thanksgiving... which brings us to... leftovers!
Ta-Da!
My favorite all-time post on Thanksgiving.
Can ya tell in 2005 I was happy to be off the mega-road trip and into a stable bed in a home (someones home, anyones home, didn't matter then anymore than it does now whose home).
“Home is anywhere I hang my head” – Elvis Costello

Posted by bigbonton at 6:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

OH, over the river and through the woods to ...
UH, where are we going again?
Whose house? Grandma's house? She's baking cookies and wearing her apron.

BUT!
Grandma might not be waiting for us to arrive.

This year the family visits are scheduled in tight shifts because of limited seating because Grandma has a compressed schedule since she has to cut out early for a Senior Center yoga class to prep before her impressionistic dance performance regarding pilgrams at the Unitarian Universalist United Under God (non-secular but not too preachy) Congregation Center.

Welcome to the 2008 Season of Whatever. "It's the most wonderful time of the year," if you're easily sold on saccharine stock clichés. Prepare to enter the dragon, the darkest time of the year, highest crime rate, highest expectations, highest disappoints.
Don’t like hearing this ugly little truth that Christmas has morphed into Xmas?
Make me smile again:
Just in time for the gift-giving season!
Did you know...
bigbonton has gotten gifts from fans every year since posting this Amazon.com Wish List...
hint, hint...

Click and gift me.

Get out your credit card and click away!
We can make each other happy.

This season will be just like in these Currier and Ives prints... except...
gotcha! They're not Currier and Ives, these two images are mine from the "November and the Colorado mines" project.

Posted by bigbonton at 6:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The 2007 Holiday Refuge Camp was held on Grand Isle de Bontonia.
The refugees arrived resembling pitiable huddled masses, showing a bit of embarrassment, not sure if they should be here, but sure they must look like losers for not having anything better to do for xmas-07 and New Years.
(BTW, it was xmas this year and that unholy name will continue until a decent Christmas occurs.)

Hiding nervousness behind their obvious efforts to show a love of the salt water, stinking of effort to be bohemian, and posturing of their “special calling of respite” that made them decide to seek comfort and joy with pseudo-strangers instead of staying close to the home and hearth, the Atlantis noobs parked their cars, stowed their keys, and might as well have shaved their heads. Their “Uh-Oh!” was obvious when they heard pre-launch, “All your hearts and minds belong to bigbonton for the duration. Fasten your personal floatation device. It’s going to be an unpredictable crossing. Let’s go for a ride.”

Stow the load and shove off.
Wind power and upper body strength drove us across the deep channel, through the winding creeks, and into a tidal enclave untouched by Santa or Satan.
Welcome ashore! The Grand Isle de Bontonia, a rest stop for the weary, a home to the transient, and a release for the over-pulled. Where you don’t have to shoot out the streetlights to see the stars.
One noob brought 7 DVDs for her personal Johnnie Depp film fest, which went fine until her laptop batteries were spent by day two. (By that time she had come out of her shell.)

The holiday tribe went through typical phases in their social interactions, including introversion morphing into friskiness, feelings of wonderment and attraction, being sized up, and addressing probing questions with answers like:
“Well, because someone has to live happily ever after.” “Just lucky, I guess.” “Never too late to have a happy childhood.” And “Why spoil my great lifestyle?”

La Replenishment Bateau.
Always a welcomed sight, especially after a few days off the grid. Seeing her sail meant fresh supplies are near. Some days she brought treats like chicken necks (just add salt water and they transform into crabs), chapstick, and the occasional peanut butter and jellyfish sandwich.

Every Femme Tourista wants to score with her outfitter, a common travel condition known as the “Tarzan-Jane Syndrome”.
No one actually called anyone else Tarzan, but daily aliases like Buck Stagg and Marlin Spike showed attempts at playfully pairing-off.

She said, "What's your sign?"
I said, "Aquarium."
We had a whale of a time.
Presented her a bouquet of flounders.
I made her dinner.
I made her dance.
And what did I get for my trouble? Crabs!
Really, Blue Crabs, plenty of ‘em. Caught, cooked, shelled and finger fed with salty giggles. Holiday tidings inside us and beside us.

Parking Lot at Low Tide.

The weather was so fine, 70s/ daytime and 50s/ nights. When that changed we had to suffer a breakup and endure the cold hard facts of life: winter comes, even on the Isle of Bontonia.

The first days after arrival, with all that inherent nervous posturing, shyness, and wondering how this was going to play out, now seems so long ago. What was strange and foreign became comfortable, as familiar as your tongue touching your teeth. For a while we could almost take comfort and joy for granted, or at least feel like it was real and would last.

The Holiday Cello, Strung Like a Guitar.

It feels like the last night of 2007 Holiday Refuge Camp never actually came. But the calendar and the weather have both changed, so again Son Volt sings their refrain, “We’re all living proof that nothing lasts.”

January 1st, 2008.
1) Sunrise swim / polar bear salt water baptism.
2) Reborn.
A new day, new winter, new time, new beginner. Hello melancholy, something good ended. But now we have the chance to begin again; do it our way, like we like it, skipping some of the “figuring it out” dance.
Oh, who am I kidding. A good thing is over, paradise lost, that’s sad, and we are forever figuring it out.

::

::

::

Click here for some sampled lyrics to the 1980’s song by Kip Addotta, “Wet Dream”

Continue reading "Grand Isle de Bontonia" »

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This season all the coolest manger displays feature a Christ-child with a bit of real-politick protection: a GPS implant that allows a speedy recovery of the boy-savior in case of pranksters being tempted to pilfer.

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh are small-time loot. Go straight for the Son of God!

That lamb on the right sure looks happy. I remember feeling that way about the holidays.

Posted by bigbonton at 2:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Here’s a documentary shot from late last night. We were naughty, being all “up and at-‘em” when we should have been nestled in our beds. The thing is, we weren’t in our homes, so we couldn’t actually get IN our own beds, so we felt excused from any responsibilities. Some people felt a bit too free, but xmas is an excuse for a lot of things…

Luckily the big man in red understood that we try and he still brought in some goodies, regardless of our merit. Items like blue crabs, king crab legs, four kinds of fish, a paddle (the kayak kind, not the paddling kind), firewood, greens, ear flaps, a rope, a camera, a couple of friends that want to hang out and be together. It was a nice warm feeling.

Posted by bigbonton at 1:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today is the 14th of July, Bastille Day.
Time to grab a summer sweetheart with which to Storm the Bastille.

Bastille Day is a French national holiday called "Fête Nationale" ("National Holiday") in official parlance, or more commonly "quatorze juillet" ("14th of July").

Many dancing parties with fireworks are organized (“bals du 14 juillet”) and it is customary that firefighters organize them (“bals des pompiers”).

Those celebrations begin during the long evening sunset on the summer night of July 13th and last through the end of July 14th, or officially until 12:01 AM July 15th.

The two long summer evenings play an integral part in the celebration. Multiple nap-times spent privately with your summer sweetheart are considered as de rigueur as attending the public outdoor celebrations and various dances.

Think about it.

Wine, cheese, bread,
a haystack, hot tub, or trail summit,
the sun goes down, the moon comes up,
dancing and enjoying a hot summer night through 'til the sunrise.
The night, the day, then the night again.
This is a time of Champions!

Thanks wikipedia!

Posted by bigbonton at 7:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

First we ate an afternoon picnic, presented on a traditional red checked tablecloth.

The good stuff we feasted on included watermelon and corn straight from the garden and shrimp right out of the cast net.

After sundown we shot a few of our fireworks.
Later we watched the big boys shooting their big toys.

Then around midnight we burned anything flammable that was not nailed down.
This picnic table, for example . . . .

It’s so much fun to not have to tolerate adults being around,
wagging their scolding finger and saying, “You can’t do that, you’ll get hurt!” and other such stale maturity.
God Bless Freedom from Responsibility!
Fine, & You?

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No hotel/motel Lazy River here, that’s kid stuff. No kids here. They pee in the pool.
The appeal of this pool (other than the obvious fun in the sun) is the Cooling Cave, see the mist in the photo, just left of center?

The Cooling Cave doubles as a shady refuge by day and a hot tub by night.
Swinging singles take advantage of the cool cave to relish their life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness, as well as expand definitions of what that pursuit actually means. Some spelunk into the cave of the unknown in that happy pursuit.

Where is everybody? Likely between the sheets, it’s early for a holiday, just 7AM.
Hearing the call of duty, this holiday blog post got an early check-off from the leisurely July 4th chore list.
Next to-do: catch the AM ocean breeze with some Frisbee action, soak in the salty Atlantic, leisurely bike ride for chow, and find someone to chat with, all while accessorized with the girl-watchers best friend: wrap-around sunglasses, aka: gawker goggles, peep sheath, and wandering-eye alibi protection.

Posted by bigbonton at 8:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It’s Mother's Day 2007. And this time it’s personal.
Sooner or later it was bound to happen.

This is a bona fide Hot Mama in red shoes.
Out & about in her EZ-Go cart.
This Mama’s a peach. She's got it.

“She walks, looks, and drives like an Ace, now.”
– Beach Boys, “Fun, Fun, Fun”

The red shoe rendezvous began with “Let’s go for a ride."
Never considered if that was an invitation or a command.
Saw the red shoes, jumped aboard, grabbed ahold.
She’s a doozie, we clicked together like two magnets.

She floored it full-on, a stylish fireball.
Let it roll!
Mama if you gotta get, please take me with you when you go.

What is it about red shoes?
They’re referenced so often in song lyrics.
Kate Bush, Chris Rea, Loretta Lynn, David Bowie, and Elvis Costello.

"Let's dance, put on your red shoes and dance the blues.
Let's dance, to the song they're playing on the radio.
Let's sway, under the moonlight, this serious moonlight."
- David Bowie, "Let's Dance"

Serious moonlight?

Two hot-shots sway
under the moonlight, this serious moonlight.

Red shoes, you know, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.
Red shoes, the angels wanna wear my red shoes.”

Full lyrics from "My Aim is True" below:

Continue reading "this Mama got red shoes" »

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Go looking down this red mud dirt road and after a mile or so you'll see a home that gets to feel special once a year at this time:

Another "got it all" shot brought to you by studiobonton.

In this holiday snapshot we feature 1) the dogwood in bloom, 2) the Easter egg colored house, 3) the field for an Easter egg hunt and frisbee, and 4) the quiet reflection that around here we're all just passing through, minding our own business, and painting anything we want to in any danged color we want to, by gar!

In case we encountered occupants with doubts that we were actually minding our own business while photographing his or her house, we were armed with a ready-made US Government approved excuse - prepared, tested, and proven.

The answer to “what y’all doin’ out there with dat camera” is a fabrication that includes such jargon as
"Support our troops", since that's an excuse for all sorts of behavior nowadays.
We could also drop back onto a phrase such as "Happy Easter, Brother", since that sounds so peaceful without all the hippie overtones that studiobonton is so careful to avoid, lest we become stereotyped as some sort of hipster other than a beatnik.

In the end there was no need to defend ourselves using a fabricated “truth”.
We came, we shot, we skedaddled
- & we posted, too, now didn’t we?

Dig it man, dig it like crazy in an Easter egg colored house, yo!

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While some folks are looking for something to do, and others have found an excuse to brew it up on a beautiful St. Patty’s Saturday,
the Geek Squad, water boys, and towel managers will be joining me at podcamp Atlanta.

Tooling away & geeking out indoors on a Fri, Sat, & Sun.
But I'm doing it for you!

Learning best of breed techniques and
networking with the hoi polloi.

Taking the time to posture,
exaggerate, brag, and stretch the truth.

It’s what every weekend is about, isn’t it?

Posted by bigbonton at 8:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Happy Feb 14th.
D-dro, op o-u, T. (exclusive clever code for fans.bigbonton.org)

Be mindful about how you spend your time.
Hours become days, days become habits.

Photos show a touch of a blessed existence,
the bigbonton studio 2.14.2007 Rocks!

Lost Again, Yee-Haw.
Tonight for dinner?
. Fish and rice .
“Again?”
. Fish and rice and wine .
- So good and good for you!

Gulp good water when available.

Posted by bigbonton at 2:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Photo supplied to studiobonton from a Top Secret Source.

A zero gravity Valentines experiment aboard space station Mir:

Don't ask how we came by the photo, it's Top Secret.
As a result of the experiment, Scientists learned to place the flowers alongside a blue-plate special fruit bowl in an semi-inspired arrangement. We stand shocked and awed at their tenacity to express on 2/14, even under the most adverse conditions.
Estimated cost of Valentines Card: $350 million dollars.

Mir, or Мир, can mean both world and peace in Russian.
It was humanity's first consistently inhabited long-term research station in space, orbiting for ten years minus eight days before it broke up over Australia, citing irreconcilable differences.

The cosmonauts and astronauts tried to send their Earth-bound Sweethearts a Valentines message, but their good intentions kept drifting away. The result, according to an orbital Keith Richards:
"First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be round soon
Slipping, Slipping away"

Government scientists were rushed in and this photo was the result.

(An exclusive online hint: Velcro!) <- shhh!

click on "continue reading" for more "slipping away" info

Continue reading "Мир. Fruit & Flowers from Leningrad" »

Posted by bigbonton at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Looking back at the past few Valentines Days, we've posted some rather sideways glances at the whole she-bang.
The glance was askance, other than “support your local florist".
archive Feb 05
archive Feb 06
For a glimpse at the V-Day archives, click on Feb 05 and Feb 06 then scroll down, since the earliest posts of the month are at the bottom.

Looking back through 2 seasons of emails on this topic, here are a few mental nuggets from the fan.bontons out there (including extremely Northern Europe and Oz Down Under):
• “I love pretty girls and miss them when they’re not around”.
• “... an arrow straight through the heart now I feel more alive.
• "... lost my free will, but I feel alive”
• “Cupid is real, it happened to me, I was slayed”
• “cupid rhymes with stupid for good reason!”
• “If I win, I win. If she wins, she wins and I feel like a winner”
• “... a Battle Royale of her voodoo vs. my mojo ”

Gee, so many uses of battle terms to describe relationships of the heart! Being conquered (I give up), hearts lost to the victors (You win again), caught an arrow straight to the heart (thud), winners, strategies, etc. Seems that falling in love requires a person to take a fall. A fall from grace? A decent from a better place?

Getting together is not always complicated but it can become a thorny bramble of roses. Maybe that's how the rose became closely associated with the work of cupids.

Another fan.bonton brings up an excellent point that it's an odd time of year to get a new sweetheart, asking “What’s the protocol for dropping the "L" word (Love-bomb) on a new sweetie when V-Day is coming? I want to keep it rolling forward but we’re still in the flirting stage. Maybe a bit further than flirting, you know. . . "

The advice-ee is in a quandary about feeling the thrill of a new crush, yet pressured about Valentines Day being an artificial deadline that's rushing the mating dance.
Timing is always so key to everything.

Show up on 2/14 empty handed and it’s a signal.
Disappear for the day on 2/14, that’s a signal.
Go overboard and that’s a warning!
Gushing a geyser of sweet emotions all over your new potential darling may leave things rather sticky. Down Boy! Easy Girl!
But a heart spark does need fuel and fanning if it is to get going.
Remember: Love is a verb, go at it with gusto!

Throwing money into the vaguely defined equation will not help your cause. Too many uncertain variables at this juncture. Save the cash-based statements of devotion for later when you know what to spend it on. People always need moola later on, regardless of how this new sweetie opportunity plays out. And apply the ol’ standard: KISS - keep it simple, stupid.

Any final certainty? Any resolution? Not from this keyboard, but a general rule is to fall back on the known factors:
"Support your local florist".
And keep it simple.
Sweet and simple, keep it sweet & simple as long as you can.
Along the lines of the playground protocol:

I like you.
Do you like me?
I__I Yes
I__I No

Warning: Try a note like this and
you'll get labeled "Forrest Gump".
The lesson from the playground is to
buck up and signal your intentions! Write it, spray it, twist & scrawl it, just don't expect anyone to read your mind.
Damn the torpedoes. Go get yourself blown out of the water.
Being a zombie of love beats being a bore.

Let's get ready to rumble!
"voodoo child" vs. "mojo"
Vegas bookies have the match this way:
"Lord knows I'm a voodoo child baby, I don't take no for an answer"
- will defeat -
"Got my mojo working, but it just won't work on you"
- in the first round -

click on "Continue reading"
for some lyrics of powerfully energetic emotions ->

Continue reading " From Normal to Zombie, just add Cupid" »

Posted by bigbonton at 4:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted!
So we're into another quality year of showing you a picture and telling you a story.
Psst! Stay tuned for a major announcement from your bigbonton-opoly!

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Wow!
How did you know???
You shouldn't have . . . .
It's even two colors! And the colors are red and green!
Those traditional Christmas colors, both of them! Awww!

And look at that extra sponginess in the grip.
This will really come in handy-handy while washing your plates after cooking your meals.
This is really just perfect, thank you!

People can be so thoughtful this time of year.
This sponge came in an eight-pack, and this sponge is the best of the best. A real Christmas-y treat.

Even the gift presentation was special, it was thrown up-side my head with a flourish.
There was even a quick mention (a hint?) of the yellow and green sponge from the multi-pack being thrown up-side my head at Easter, but we'd better not get over excited.

Who could possibly be having a better Christmas!?

Meanwhile, some folks are still waiting for things previously mentioned to the world,
something about being heard and understood.

But with a brand new sponge like this, who bothers to think anything about higher level needs like someone to talk to while washing dishes? As long as I can just talk to Jesus! Happy Birthday Jesus! Although we know your birth date was not exactly December 25th, but anyway, Christmas is no time for truth. Or talking.

Meet the new Christmas, same as the old Christmas. '04, '05, '06, ... 'O Well . . .

Posted by bigbonton at 10:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Happy Memorial Day '06
It's looking like it'll be a sunny Summertime.
Things are looking up,
Blue skys, nothing but blue skys, blue skys from now on . . .

Two serene photos in honor of all Airmen, Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Merchant Seamen and all the ships at sea.
Semper Paratus!
Semper Fi!

(photo is on the Atlantic facing north, not the Pacific facing south)

Memorial Day always reminds us of the Lost Coast in Northern Cal.
Hiking southward, wind always at your back (from the north), Pacific on your right, ocean cliffs on your left. It's a committment to get through the "lost" section of the trail since it's a 2 or 3 day trek with a point of no return.
This is the best time of year to go since you can still catch some Sierra Mountain snow melt for fresh water. Filter! Filter! It's a long way from High Sierra to sea level.
And here & now? The water is warmer on this side of the continent. Much more accessible.

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At night in the tent the sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs kept making us think the big one was rolling in to sweep us out to sea. Around 4AM a shore break had us sitting straight up out of a dozing slumber. As usual all the possible problems are just between our ears.

Continue reading "WildCat Camp for Easter" »

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A beautiful rose for you my darling Valentine.

I found an island in your arms,
a country in your eyes.
- The Doors -

One Love, One Heart
let's get together and feel alright
- Bob Marley-

If you would be loved, love and be lovable.
- Benjamin Franklin


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach ...
[see complete version in comments]
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning -

Click for a look at the Looney Bulb 6 weeks later:

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"Looks like home, Tastes like home"

The 1st stop in the 3rd year of the Bonton Barbeque Tour of America!
That's right, 3rd year - 2004, 2005, 2006.
Q: . . . and what have You done with your life in the past 3 years?
A: Well, I went to as many BBQ places as I could and photoblogged them for the betterment of mankind. And for posterity, uh, for my legacy, you know . . . 9 states and 2 coasts so far".

We knew this place was good when we pulled into the parking lot behind a powerline truck, one of those big rigs with a bucket. They got to park anywhere they wanted.

There was a split wood pile on the side of the house so we inspected the premises before going inside. A smoke house is in the back with a big pile of wood waiting to be split after school by the son. This place really is a former residential dwelling, thus the slogan "looks like home, etc". Any Q joint you see with a tin roofed smoke house in back, well, just go in and hand over your money for a buffet.
Myers specializes in hickory and oak pit cooked BBQ & country cooking. My stomach is growling with fond memories.

The clientele was lunchtime landscaping crew, lineman, a table of "who knows what they do during the day", and one guy with his female better half. They were making plans, I think it was a honey-do list from her to him. He was going along with anything she said. Maybe she let him have some Q so she could get her way with him. Thank goodness for at least one female in the place, she classed up the joint with her ambition and all that.

Across the street is a large corporate building with a security gate. Whatever they do in there, I'm sure the cubicle dwellers daydream about opening a BBQ place like this one, right off the highway.
They have an all you can eat deal but not an actual buffet, you return to the front for a refill and they lay it on you with a smile. The Q was so good that I forgot about getting some Smoked Chicken! That's Smoked chicken, not BBQ chicken. Smoked chicken - imagine how tender and tasty that must be. Smoked Turkey is so good, wish I'd had some smoked chicken. . Right now, missing the smoked chicken feels like a greater loss than it did at the time, when I was full-up on 2 plates of Q. My stomach is growling (again).

When I realized I was too full to have the smoked chicken I began a sit down strike. The plan was to digest enough to try a sample of the smoked chicken. Just a mere morsel, a wafer thin slice. We hung out.
Their bulletin board includes many local celebrities, like some blues musicians that look like they've had a fairly easy life. After the lunch rush I was the only person in the place. The radio played Elvis singing "Kentucky Rain". Poor Elvis, he sings:
"I don't know why you've gone,
what you're running to, or from,
all I know is I want to take you home".
He rhymes "gone", "home", and "from" using an "uh" sound.
Everybody now give me an Elvis Uh-uh-Huh!
Uh-uh-Huh!

There wasn't much to talk about with the lady that was sweeping up and I think I made her self-conscious when I took a flash photo. She likes Elvis but didn't want to talk about The King just now, she was sweeping. When I mentioned that today, January 8th, is the Birthday of Elvis she seemed to have had enough, as if it weren't true.
Well it is true each and every year on January 8th!
So I got a gallon of tea ($4) to-go and left.

God as my witness, I shall return soon and I'll put a hurting on that smoked chicken, we're even planning on calling ahead to make sure they put a few yard birds on just for me.

Myers BBQ Restaurant and Catering
Gerald & Carolyn Myers, Owners
10324 Wilson Blvd. at I-77 & Hwy 21 N (Exit 24)
Blythewood, SC 29016
Hours Mon - Sat 11 - 9pm

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& the Birthday Boy Savior

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