Bus Tours and Other Thoughts

Here’s a new development for the neighborhood. A tour bus stops right outside my window every hour. It’s one of those English double decker buses. So if I happen to be walking around in my robe… or worse… and wave, the tourists get a little more than they bargained for. Kinda funny.

I saw a father with three young boys ages about 5 to 10 years old on Michigan Avenue the other day. The youngest suddenly pointed up to the sky and excitedly exclaimed, “It’s the Eiffel Tower!”, as he pointed toward the John Hancock building. One of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen in my life.

Obama is getting ready to address a crowd at the Corn Palace in South Dakota. Yep. A palace made of corn. I don’t even have words to describe how silly this country is sometimes.

Speaking of corn. Now that we’re putting it in our cars and helping to starve the world, at what point do we realize we don’t need battleship sized vehicles to drive to work? I offered to fill up a friend’s SUV (one of the slightly more fuel efficient ones) on a Memorial Day weekend trip, just to see how it felt. $73 later, I couldn’t imagine the trade-off for more space to haul things/people with paying that much for fuel. I mean cars have trunks. How much stuff do you need to take with you? Someday we’ll realize that the Europeans who have been driving tiny but fun cars for years have been right all along.

Still no cure for cancer and AIDS, but it’s really great to see so many options on TV every minute to solve the rampant problem of America’s lack of boners. Again, I have no words to properly explain my thoughts of the latest commercials for Cialis and Viagra. A bunch of guys in a shack singing about their Johnsons? Really? Pairs of bathtubs signifying… what?… prune sex? Everyone has the right to put whatever drugs they want into their body, but the frequency of impotence spots is mind numbing.

I discovered today that the only place within 40 miles to get the special archival ink for my specific photo printer on a Sunday is in Oak Brook. I’ve been burning through it a lot faster than I thought printing nice big images for the Paris Foncé Exhibit in a couple of weeks. They are quite lovely, if I do say so myself.

I got a lovely bit of fan email from a beautiful woman called Jo from South Africa yesterday. It really made my morning. I love being international.

Summer has finally arrived in Chicago. Stuck in traffic were you?

The new issue of French Playboy sports a fine example of why I think art sensibilities in Europe are far more interesting than here in America. American Playboy is an institution, certainly, but while the photography is technically perfect, it’s just boring to me. The photographs of Anouck in their French cousin’s pages are so much more original and compelling. Someday I’m going to take my book down the street to Playboy’s headquarters here and tell them they should let me breathe some fresh ideas into their pages.

Ahhhh…. the sweet feeling of rant afterglow. Now I have to get back to printing.

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