Archive for family

CONEY ISLAND

Posted in FLICKR, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, Sexy with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 21, 2013 by cliffmichaels

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Coney Island!

coney

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Coney Island Mermaid Parade

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CONEY ISLAND 

ONLY CONEY

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coney

FLICKR & THE NEWS!

Posted in FLICKR, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 2, 2013 by cliffmichaels

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Offbeat news matched with Flickr groups…

My Kingdom for a Horse!

horsemeat

Horse flesh keeping popping up in food. One of the latest guilty parties, according to news reports, is Burger King…

Horses in Need – Meat Club

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A Devil of a Sweater

sweater

There are so many risks in everyday life: automobile accidents, disease,  pollution, falling meteors, bad mayo …  But who knew you had to worry your sweater (or other clothing)  might cast you into Hell!?

Sweater BondageHell’s Geography

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It Ain’t Mothers’ Day for Sure!

mother

You know your mom loves you when she drowns  you in the tub cause your dong’s too short… You know he loved mom cause he posed with her just severed (by him) head

Big Bad Asian Mama – Penis Cock (xxx) – Disembodied Heads

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You want Fries with That?

ketchup

A truck carrying ketchup – lots and lots of ketchup, wrecked in Reno. When the cops arrived and surveyed the huge red stain on the road they wondered where all the bodies were.

Tomato KetchupReno Rocks

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There’s an App for That?

ipad

The iPad is  so versatile; it has hundreds of different uses! a New York fireman  came up with a unique new use: using it to bash his wife twice on her head. She was treated for her injuries at the scene  – no word on the iPad’s condition…

iPad Face NYFD

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Lady Chatterly’s Gift

Posted in fetish, memoir, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, pinup, Sexy, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 19, 2013 by cliffmichaels

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When I was fourteen, the summer before my freshman year in high school, my family rented a modest house in Oak Ridge after we had moved to east Tennessee from my personal Shangri-La, Del Mar, California. The house had a single small bathroom, a family bottleneck, particularly in the morning.

For a week or so sometime that summer, my parents’ friend Susan Green, a buxom women the same general age as my parents (early forties). Ms. Green, like most every woman with a large bust, caught and held my testosterone juiced attention. Janet Pilgrim’s bountiful milky white breasts – I’d discovered them in an old Playboy I’d found in one of the houses our family rented in Del Mar – still fueled my embarrassing wet dreams.

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I have no real memory of the brief time Susan stayed with us. Except for five to ten shockingly vivid seconds. It must have been fairly early in the morning, but that’s really just a guess. Anyway, whenever it was, needing to pee, I went to the bathroom door and unthinkingly jerked it wide open. Standing at the sink, just three feet in front of me, in just her white panties and oversized white brassiere, Ms. Green was leaning over the diminutive white sink and peering into the small mirror as she  carefully applied her lipstick.

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I  instantly froze at the bathroom threshold. I felt faint, my face  was burning, and my dick sprang up amazingly quickly.  I’m sure my jaw was nestled somewhere at the level of my bare feet. Before any thought could push aside the steaming lump of lust filling my fourteen year old boy’s brain, Ms. Green whirled around and yelled at me to close the door. Paralyzed by the view of her now revealed ample cleavage, and the pinkness of her still damp midriff and upper thighs,  it took my a second or so to regain any ability to comply.

As best as I can remember neither Ms. Green, or either of my parents, mentioned my embarrassing voyeurism. I spent the rest of her visit conciously  keeping my eyes off her delicious chest. At night, when I was alone in my room, however, the memory of my brief glimpse of those breasts, and particularly that deep pink cleavage, kept me a little bit dizzy and my left hand busy.

I was, that summer, still relatively new to the forbidden joys of masturbation. While my younger brothers and I spent a month or so at my maternal grandparents’ home in southwest Virginia waiting for our parents to fetch us down to Oak Ridge, I’d found a dog eared paperback copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover half hidden in the den.  As I lay in bed reading a particularly racy passage of the book one night, I began fondling my cock. Not really knowing what I was doing, but encouraged by the magnificent sensation, I kept at it as I continued to read.

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Suddenly, and without any warning, the first orgasm of my life washed over me like some horrifying Tsunami. The feeling, which surged from my groin over most of my body,  was so intense and so prolonged my vision dimmed and I came close to fainting.  My semen, as if overjoyed to at last be freed, spurted out again and again, arched high over my stomach, then splattered down onto my chest and neck, leaving sticky white dime sized puddles on my skin. For a a terrifying  moment I feared  I might actually die or that I had at least done  some grievous damage to myself. I could hardly breathe; my body trembled like a small bird. When my passion at last drained away I felt weak and drowsy. I was so petrified by the experience  I quickly vowed I’d never ever touch myself that way again no matter what.

My fervent vow lasted not quite twenty-four hours. The second time, braving my anxiety, I brought myself  to an orgasm not quite as intense as the first. It was still magnificent and I savored the spread of joy radiating out from my cock. By the end of that week my fear had vanished and I was addicted. My grandparents became concerned as I went to bed earlier and earlier. The copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover grew a little bit more dog eared each night with a few more of its yellowed pages marked by fingertip sized stains along their outer edges.

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You’re Kidding Me, Right!?

Posted in FLICKR, history, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 12, 2013 by cliffmichaels

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Idiocy on Parade


tea

If only we’d known… Slavery could have been avoided in America if blacks had possessed firearms in 1776.

“We are looking for a peaceful protest,” Ward said. Continuing, “I think Martin Luther King, Jr. would agree with me if he were alive today that if African Americans had been given the right to keep and bear arms from day one of the country’s founding, perhaps slavery might not have been a chapter in our history.”  Larry Ward, gun nut

guns

Does Hobby Lobby go to church?

Hobby Lobby founder contests Obamacare contraception mandate claiming it violates he religious convictions. Somehow I doubt the company is a sole proprietorship or partnership. If I’m right then I’m at a loss to understand what the religious beliefs of  mere officers or stockholders have to do with the corporate “person” (hat tip to Mitt). On the other hand, the Supreme Court has ruled corporations have the First Amendment right to free speech so maybe they can have the right of religious liberty too.

Obama nixes Death Star

In yet another sign Obama is dangerously soft on national defense, his administration announced it would not build a Death Star despite the popular clamor. Even more shocking was the President’s rejection of destroying enemy planets, giving our other worldly enemies aid and comfort.

darth

Gun nut loses right to carry concealed weapon after exercising his right to free speech.

I don’t like gun nuts and I believe in strict regulation of firearms, including banning assault rifles and oversixed magazines. Despite those beliefs, I find it outrageous that my home state of Tennessee revoked James Yeager’s permit to cary a concealed weapon because of  his statement calling for other gun nuts to lcck & load to be ready to combat federal gun control. Its fashionable these days for gun advocates to claim one of the justifications for the Second Amendment is for citizens to be able to go to war with a tyrannical government. Tennessee has more than its share of such true believers. What Yeager said, while ugly, surely falls under the First Amendment’s protection. If I’m right then I don’t see how his right to carry can be curbed.

Update: It appears, from this blog post, that Yeager violated Tennessee’s constitutional ban on dueling.

Libertarian promises to have no contact with traitors who voted for Obama.

Eric Dondero, a passionate libertarian and Obama hater, is promising to shun forever all Democrats and Obama voters, even those who are part of his family:

  I’m choosing another rather unique path; a personal boycott, if you will. Starting early this morning, I am going to un-friend every single individual on Facebook who voted for Obama, or I even suspect may have Democrat leanings. I will do the same in person. All family and friends, even close family and friends, who I know to be Democrats are hereby dead to me. I vow never to speak to them again for the rest of my life, or have any communications with them. They are in short, the enemies of liberty. They deserve nothing less than hatred and utter contempt.

If only every wingnut would follow the same policy I wouldn’t be forced to listen to their harangues against Obama’s attempt to destroy America with Sharia law, gun bans, or the destruction of  Christianity.

obama

The rich are getting richer and the poor poorer – even in Monopoly. 

The iconic game is dumping one of its working class tokens – thimble, iron, boot or the wheelbarrow. The upper crust tokens – battleship, top hat, scottie dog, and the race car are untouchable. Next thing you know players will have to pass a credit check to get in the game.

boot

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NEWTOWN

Posted in FLICKR, politics, satire with tags , , , , , , on December 15, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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BANNER

Public Domain

While there is of course nothing I could write today about the Connecticut shooting that would be original or truly meaningful, it does seem important to mention it.  Because of the number killed and tender age of most of the victims, this episode of lunatic gun frenzy seems worse than the dozens of others in my lifetime.

The sad litany of voices and arguments  we have heard after each massacre has begun. “Guns don’t kill children people do.” “It’s too early! Don’t politicize this tragedy!”  “How can anyone defend automatic weapons and twenty shot magazines!?” ” Why is America so obsessed with firearms?”

Mike Huckabee won the race to be the first right wing pundit to bleat that tired old pro-gun talking point: if that teacher had only had a gun…”  Yes, I can see it now. As the crazed shooter breaks into the classroom brandishing his semi-automatic pistols, our teacher frantically hunts for her over sized handbag, hurriedly digs through the layers of  junk for her six shooter. takes time to load (wouldn’t want to have a loaded gun in a room full of curious kindergarten kids), then calmly turns toward the madman and drills him right between the eyes – after he’s had time to mow down only half the class (all this assumes the killer is too dumb to shoot the teacher first)!

Huckabee missed the obvious answer:  the kids should have been packing. Your average seven year old, and precocious five and six year olds, are certainly mature enough to carry concealed weapons (if properly trained). Imagine how this tragedy would have been avoided if an entire class of elementary school children had pulled their guns from their backpacks and then riddled the unsuspecting villain with a fusillade of well aimed hot lead!

My solution would crete a whole new market for the firearm industry. Tiny shots from tiny tots! Girls would likely gravitate toward Barbie’s BAM-BAM pink Derringer, while boys would drool over pearl handled shiny six shooters specially crafted to fit comfortably in little boy hands. If these small firearms don’t have enough stopping power the makers could easily offer the kids hollow point ammunition for just a few dollars more. To be sure our pint sized posses are full of deadeye marks-boys/girls, school recess could be replaced with mandatory target and fast draw practice.

Why, I suspect that when a majority of first through third graders start carrying guns their grades will shoot way up. Little Billy’s Glock will help his teachers see just how truly special he is (“Ms. Smith, your little Billy has made real progress on his anger issues. We want to promote him to middle school – tomorrow!”) And there may even be other benefits as well. No more playground bullies?

Sadly, thanks to the liberal elite in our country my common sense plan to stop school shootouts will never see the light of day. It’ll be the same thing that happened when I proposed giving obsolete  artillery pieces to the Boy Scouts…

gun

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The Shocking Truth: Why Obama Won

Posted in erotic, FLICKR, religion, Sexy, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 10, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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As always, post election analysis has swamped the media and blogosphere since Tuesday night’s election shocker. Every pundit has a theory why her candidate won or lost. Obama won because of the Hispanic vote; Romney lost because so many white voters sat on their hands. The women’s vote was crucial. No, it was the professional class. You’re both wrong, it was Asians under twenty-eight. Romney was too passive. He was too aggressive. He lied too much. He told too much truth. Karl Rove blew it. He saved it from being much worse. Obama’s awesome ground game tipped the election. He should have lost. He should have won bigger. He was too liberal. He was too moderate.  The American people were too smart to go for Romney. They were too stupid to go for Romeny. Too greedy to go for Romeny. God will smile on America. He’ll smite America. No, He could care less. I’m right and you’re wrong. No, I’M right and YOU’RE wrong!

And on and on and on and on and on and on…

But perhaps the most penetrating pundits hang out at the Christian Men’s Defense Network.  Bskillet81, head of  the group, has uncovered the real reason Obama won and Romney lost. Only he has discovered the crucial demographic that swung the election toward America’s first Kenyan born, Muslim, Fascist, Socialist, illegitimate, nappy headed and uppity President.

The Slut Vote!

…. (T)his election cycle shows that the Slut Vote is real, and Republicans lose because they discount the existence of original sin in women.  Abortion is often called the “third rail of American politics,” but in truth, the third rail is a woman’s right to slut (with cash and prizes).

One thing one has to remember about women, especially slutty ones:  They usually don’t make decisions based on reason.  So all the Obama administration had to do was scare them that Mitt Romney was going to take away their birth control and their access to abortion.  The fear for them is that, without birth control and abortion, they might actually get pregnant and have to give birth.  That is scary not simply because of the economic burden of having a child (since, hey, they can get all kinds of cash and prizes if that happens), but because if that happened then everyone would know they’re sluts, and their image as daddy’s pure little snowflake princess goes out the window.

 

How on God’s green earth can anyone possibly dispute this kind of savvy political brilliance?  Bskillet8 should lobby for his own show on Fox – maybe replacing the finally discredited Dick Morris. I see a book in his future and a lucrative lecture tour. Then he should consider a run for congress (maybe even the Senate).

Not only did Skilly figure out why single white women vote for the Democrats, but he unravelled the riddle of why Blacks are in Obama’s pocket. You probably thought it had something to do with the Democrat’s allegiance to civil rights – you’re an idiot! BSkill has the lowdown:

Contrary to common belief, the primary reason the Democrats own the black vote has nothing to do with civil rights…Rather, Democrats have won the black vote because the black community is dominated by illegitimacy, and the Democrats are willing to subsidize and support that illegitimacy (as well as provide access to cheap abortions) so as to take away from sluts the consequences of their actions. 

Think this great Christian seer is wrong? Think he’s just some no nothin’ religious mysogynist? You must be a political tyro, my Fabianista friend. Just check out this web site, Virginia…

Oddly, The CMDN’s site has vanished. Guess, like a lot of geniuses, BKillet8 is more than a little shy. Such a shame; we need his kind of amazing insight… But maybe if we beg he’ll answer our call and save God’s Great City on the Hill…

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Four more votes for sin and promiscuity!

FLICKR GROUPS: Sluts with Sleaze Appeal – Sluts International (X)

Original photo by  Alexandre Borges, remixed by me, both images subject to this

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LIBERAL LAMENT (with bountiful blue boobs)

Posted in erotic, fashion, fetish, FLICKR, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, pinup, sexual, Sexy, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 7, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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There has been much written lately about the growing income inequality in this country. The attitude of many, particularly on the right, is so what? 

The so what is political; it is the need for a cohesive populace loyal to America. The better off people are the more likely they are to feel connected to American ideals and government. The poor, the resentful, the believers the political and economic systems are irrevocably rigged against them, are likely to shed their willingness to support this country and its government. Add enough people to these groups and you have a dangerous mix of anger and resentment in too many people, people ripe for any radical political movement promising to topple the corrupt elements of American political and economic elites.

We are not a ethnic nation; we are unified by ideals and not by blood. When life drains of hope and we lose our faith in American exceptionalism – our American Dream – we have nothing to fall back on. We aren’t  French, or German, or Italian; our history of national identity is relatively short and the war that forged  our true identity was not with some other ethnic or religious group but with ourselves.

The political right trumpets “free markets”. Whatever the markets’ economic efficiencies, they can also divide us along economic lines, lines that many see as arbitrary and drawn as much by the luck of birth and chance as by enterprise and  industriousness. Mitt Romny, whatever his business acumen, prospered thanks in large part because of his family, its wealth and the advantages and opportunities they afforded him. If he had been born black, poor, his rise obstructed by poor education, the fractures of family, and inner city violence, he chances of success would have been tiny.

We are a nation of three hundred million people, not of corporations. Our national goals should seek much more than economic efficiencies. The general welfare must embrace the welfare of all of us. If it does not, if we do not act together to bind up the nation’s wounds, we may find our Americanism so diluted in so many of us we may cease to be a nation at all.

Gratuitous Boobs

Image by BillyWarhol, remixed by me, both original and remix subject to this creative commons license 

SHOCKING SET BY BILLY!

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Flagrante Delicto!

Posted in erotic, FLICKR, memoir, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY, sexual, Sexy, tennessee, Uncategorized, women with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 3, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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I didn’t decide to go to law school until I was a senior in college. Up till then my career plans were as vague as a foggy mountain winter dawn. I realized I had to do something, you know, to make an actual living. I didn’t know much of practical use at 21, but I had a pretty strong hunch a liberal arts degree wasn’t going to get me a good job, especially in the weak economy of 1970.

By the end of the summer of that year I did have a wife –  a wife who worked and, even better yet, a wife who was willing to continue working if I decided to forgo regular, full-time employment to continue going to school. This good fortune, however, was counter balanced by the shocking unwillingness of my parents to continue supporting me in the modest circumstances to which I had become accustomed. Something about good money after bad, they claimed.

I had a part time job, too. I worked a three hour late night shift at United Parcel Service. Virtually the entire nightshift crew was college students. The work wasn’t horribly hard and, for that time, it paid a decent wage. It also helped that in those bygone days tuition at the University of Tennessee was quite modest for instate students and I would not be forced into debt as students are today.

So, with a working wife, a part time job, no real debts, and not needing much ready cash to continue my education, I decided to try law school in the spring. I wasn’t worried about getting in; 1971 was well before everyone, all his siblings, most of his first cousins, (and many of his second) was besieging every law school in America and clamoring for admission. I aced the LSAT, then wasted a month or so before school started.

The first quarter I took the curriculum seriously. I studied hard, spending hours and hours in the law library (we had something called books back then). Despite working part time late at night and having early morning classes, at the end of those first three months I had one of the highest GPA’s in the class. I felt so proud of myself! Wow, I thought, I must be really good at this stuff!

Of course, once I realized law courses weren’t all that hard (no math, after all), my dedication to study soon atrophied, as did my GPA. I didn’t care. I knew I was still good at this stuff. I mean, when was the last time you asked your lawyer, doctor, accountant, or plumber what her GPA was in school?

Looking back, my legal career now seems as if it was inevitable – like Custer’s Last Stand, the sinking of the Titanic or the explosion of the Hindenburg (only without all the press attention). Now, after thirty-eight years fiddling third violin in the back row of the frequently dischordant legal orchestra, I am now  resigned to never becoming the soloist out front.

But, by God, I’m still good at it…

I’ve only recently realized I was, at birth, fated to practice law – it was inevitable! The signs were all there. And those signs continued to appear over the next twenty-one year! If I had only paid attention to them I’d be a high income plumber today!

First, I was late to my own birth. I hung around in that cozy uterus for as long as I could. Now I don’t know a lawyer who isn’t late, at least to court. When I was in my early days of practice, there was a Knoxville lawyer I admired, Joe Levitt, who was known, particularly by judges he practiced before, as the late Mr. Levitt. He had a habit of arriving to the courtroom an hour or two after his case was called, wearing a brown rumpled suit and carrying his battered brief case in one hand and a half eaten sandwich in the other.  Sadly, now that appellation is literally true. Of course, if I had been really late for my grand entry to this world, say weeks instead of days, I’d be a judge by now.

After I was born I whined and complained to both my parents. Not understanding the justice of my demands, they seemed callous judges. I thereafter learned to talk and by two I could say habeas corpus, caveat emptor, ipso facto, and coitus interruptus. It was only years into my law practice, however, I learned, and truly understood, the phrase vigilantibus non dormientibus aequitas subvenit. 

 In another obvious sign, when I was about ten or so I developed an absolute aversion to any kind of physical labor. That year my Pater familias wanted me to cut the grassIn the summmer heat! This was long before we had either a self-propelled or ride on mower. We had a stubborn push mower and a large, moderately hilly yard. It took almost an hour to do the entire job; when I was done I felt like Lawrence of Arabia deep in Wadi Rum, but not as well dressed.

I honed my verbal skills to convince Dad to excuse me from my agrostological chore. It was easy. He was an engineer and knew only three things: water flows downhill, you can’t push a rope, and you get paid twice a month. Of course, I was aided in my brief by the the mere existence of my youngest brother Pat, now old enough to assume my duties. I assured him cutting the grass would be a promotion for him, several steps up from emptying the trash. But he balked. Luckily for me, his only skill at argument to counter my suggestion to Dad he replace me was his ability to stomp his foot, shake his head and moan, “Jeez, Dad, its not fair”, a modus operandi our parents had long before learned to ignore.

Perhaps the surest sign of my future vocation came in 1962, when I was fourteen. The summer before beginning high school,  I engaged in my first serious debate. The venue was our neighbors’ front yard one late summer afternoon; my adversary was Donna, their pretty fourteen year old red headed daughter. Our audience was a handful of other neighborhood children. The subject of our debate, chosen by me, was female genital anatomy.  Although I had no sisters, after having avidly studied my parents’ 1945 plain black jacketed marriage manual and its copious, if sadly schematic, black and white anatomical drawings, I felt fully prepared and confidently argued to this girl she was clearly wrong about what lay between her own two legs. My arguments were cogent, logical, and, if I do say so myself, elegant in both composition and presentation – yet shockingly proved futile. Declaring me guilty of argumentum ad ignoratiam, she remained unyielding in the face of my attempts to seduce her with my tongue to the truth.  Still, anyone who watched our great debate would have surely concluded by the last light of the day I was destined to excel at the law.

My only regret other than my inability to convince Donna of the theoretical soundness of my position was my failure to demand she allow me to fully discover her demonstrable proof she claimed supported her position before starting the debate (it was nearly another fours years before similar discovery came to hand for close and frequent study and my juvenile erratum were at last revealed to me).

Of course, if I had actually convinced Donna what she saw in her hand mirror when she examined her nether regions was wrong, I would not only be a lawyer today, but a very, very, very rich one as well…

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Dear reader, should you think ill of my tales, or doubt their veracity, I urge you to recall this Latin phrase:

Dubia in meliorem partem interpretari debent

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As for me

Quo senior, eo immortalitati propinquior

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Gastropods!

Posted in art with tags , , , , , , , , on August 25, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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FLICKR SEARCH: Snail

122,780 photos

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Snails & SlugsSlimy SnailsSnails are my Friends – Gorgeous Gastropods

Photo by MAK506, subject to this creative commons license

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Croon a Little Tune for Me

Posted in FLICKR, history, memoir, photographers, PHOTOGRAPHY with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 22, 2012 by cliffmichaels

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You know you’re unacceptably old when most of the cultural icons who were in their heyday when you came of age are now gone, buried and forgotten.  Here a a trio of crooners who were big when I was in my teens…

My father was a huge Frank Sinatra fan. The singer was wildly famous when my father was in his twenties. By the time I was in my early twenties Sinatra’s career had  dropped off and then rebounded. The terrible, dark secret of my teens and early twenties: I cared little for rock. I loved old Blue Eye. What styling, what a tough, sexy, silky voice…

You Make Me Feel So Young

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Unlike Sinatra, Bing Crosby seemed passe to me in the 1960’s. I’d seen a few of his films with Bob Hope, but I confess I didn’t really appreciate his singing until later. While I didn’t know it in the 60’s, Crosby was a fan of many black performers and would often drop into black clubs to listen – and learn – from the great black singers of the era. This song is forever burned into my brain:

White Christmas 

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Dean Martin was a constant television presence when I was growing up. Long teamed with Jerry Lewis in one of America’s favorite comedy teams, Martin had a successful solo career as a singer, actor and television variety show host (and member of the Rat Pack). His first You Tube listing is…

That’s Amore

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My Sinatra Group Why Are There No Frank Sinatra Groups? Dean Martin: The King of Cool – 1940 – 1949

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