Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Russian Dashcam Theatre: the mating of the cows
I heart Russian dash cam video. There's reams of it on YouTube, and so far it's more entertaining than the last words of pilots while the plane goes down. What amazes me most is how nobody seems to die, but maybe they wouldn't post those.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
I have some good memories of Pierre
"Ne me quitte pas. . . " Pierre Trudeau sticks it to the Separatists. He argued passionately for a united Canada. And he won, too.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Wondercar: the 1948 Davis Divan
Davis Motorcar Company
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 | |
| Automobile Manufacturing | |
| Industry | Automotive, Military |
| Genre | Three-wheeled cars |
| Fate | Defunct |
| Founded | 1947 |
| Founder | Glenn Gordon "Gary" Davis |
| Defunct | 1948 |
| Headquarters | Van Nuys, California, United States |
Area served
| United States |
| Products | Vehicles |
The Davis Motorcar Company was an American automobile manufacturer based in Van Nuys, in the San Fernando Valley region of Los Angeles, California, which produced three-wheeled automobiles from 1947 to 1948. In total the company produced 15 to 17 vehicles.[1]
Contents
[hide]History[edit]
Founder Glenn Gordon "Gary" Davis (d. 1973) acquired a prototype called "The Californian" from designer Frank Kurtis, who built it for millionaire racecar driver Joel Thorne.[1]
Davis operated in a 57,000 sq. ft. former aircraft assembly building in Van Nuys, where a prototype three-wheeler named "Baby" was built. Baby was powered by a 47 hp Hercules 4-cylinder engine coupled to a Borg-Warner 3-speed transmission and Spicer rear end. Baby was unique in that it featured four-across seating. It was planned that production, beginning in 1948, would start at a minimum of 50 cars a day later increasing to 1000. A second prototype called "Delta" was built, and a third prototype, the model 482, was completed later. The third model, the "Divan", established standards for the production Davis cars.
The company closed down in 1948, as workers and engineers were not being paid, and lawsuits were threatened by investors and dealers. Former employees then filed suit for back pay, and the company was investigated on allegations of fraud. Soon after the Davis plant was shut down, Gary Davis was convicted on 20 of 28 counts of theft (he was acquitted on four counts of theft and four of fraud) and was sentenced to 8 months to two years in jail.
Davis developed a variant for military use. The Model 494 was a Jeep-like version of the Divan with an open body. Arrangements were ongoing with the Pentagon to run tests at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland. Ultimately three 494s were built in less than a week, two of which were shipped to the Army for testing.
And if so few were made, why did I find so many pictures and videos and stuff, including a whole half-hour YouTube video of Jay Leno driving one around in Van Nuys, wherever that is? I didn't watch it cuz it looked pretty boring, and I don't like Jay Leno and am glad he's gone. The little clip I found of the Davis at a car show (which I turned into a gif, the green one on the green grass) had an announcer claiming the idea of the car came from Howard Hughes. My ass it did. Howard Hughes was too smart to invest in a company that lasted barely a year, spat out 15 cars or so, and sank in a quagmire of lawsuits and jail sentences.
The little bit at the end of the Wiki blurb says something about developing a prototype for the military, but I find that even harder to swallow, unless they wanted a car small enough to fold up and store in an officer's kit bag or whatever it is those guys cart around with them when there's a war on.
To me it looks a bit like Ollie of Kukla, Fran and Ollie, a friendly dragon puppet with big nostrils. I always think it looks like cars have faces. They have faces coming, and they have faces going. This one is more strange than any I've seen.
POST-BLOG GLOB: As usual, I've found out some more about this subject. No doubt if I kept digging, I'd keep finding more. Books may have been written about it, but I'm almost afraid to find out: all I need is another obsession in my life. This Gary Davis guy was either a visionary with a brilliant plan to revolutionalize the automotive industry, or a crook out to bilk as many people as possible. (Bilk has nothing to do with Sergeant Bilko, played by Phil Silvers whom I hate.) He convinced a lot of people to back him big-time and came up with a big splashy ad campaign, probably pre-selling a lot of vehicles which never materialized. He even jumped into the infant medium of television, featuring his car-of-the-future on an early police show. An opportunist, either brilliant or sociopathically crooked, there were whispers he was merely the puppet of the insane Howard Hughes. Surely he took the dive, as they say in boxing, for the short-end money (and the jail sentence).
Gary Davis envisioned Davis Divan dealerships springing up all over the United States and perhaps Canada, which is pretty hard to pull off if you have no cars to sell. The fact that so many of them still exist is curious, but hey, these cars never sold, as far as I know, and were either warehoused or bought up by someone who loves to collect curiosa. The more I think about the 1948 Davis, the stranger it seems: FOUR adults could sit next to each other on the bench seat, including, I guess, the driver, and I don't see how that could happen in a car that small. (Of course people were a lot skinnier in those days.) Nowadays we'd want to know the gas mileage, and if it could maybe be converted to electric or at least a hybrid. I saw many three-wheeled vehicles in my long-ago trip to Italy, but there was nothing glamorous about them: they were grubby little trucks narrow enough to get through laneways so skinny you could reach out and touch them on either side.
Monday, October 19, 2015
First Justin Trudeau Blingee!
First, let me say that I remember when this kid was born. It was Christmas Day 1971, I was 17 years old and my Dad was on the sauce, serenading us from The Messiah:
"For unto us a child is born. . . a son is given. . . and the government will be upon his shoulder. . . "
Well, kind of, yeah. It sort of DID work out that way, didn't it?
At least now, I hope, people will stop yammering about Harper, fulminating and showing him with Hitler moustaches and giving Nazi salutes and wielding giant dildos. (Dildoes?). I got so royally sick of all this shit, along with all the ads that are being shoved down my throat, that I came near to bailing on social media altogether, and I still might. I've never seen such rancour, such sourness and mean-spiritedness all in one place, and I hope to never see it again.
But I now await the Justin Trudeau schmooze-fest, which should last just about until he actually starts to rule the country. At that point, the country will turn him into the same elitist asshole we thought his father was (only to give him a massive state funeral and declare he united the country as never before).
OK, this is as political as I will ever get. Good night.
Survival of the meanest
Margaret Gunning shared HOT 104.5's photo.
What I object to are very obscure statements that seem to come from the middle of a thought, that "only certain people" will "get". This is Facebook, folks, it's social media, not a private email, and you should have gotten over whispering secrets to "certain people" in the schoolyard so that everyone else will feel left out.
This was one of the things I got testy about (not that I ever get testy! Jeeeez.) The original from HOT 104.5 (radio, I assume) had half a million likes and comments, etc., and even my own "share" had many more than I usually get, although I was surprised. It was an admission of something that goes on as standard practice, though obviously a lot of people object to it.
It ties in to the snickering-on-the-playground nature of social media, and it really hurts young people and has even triggered suicides, but nobody tries to do anything about it. Humans are elitist by nature: we're in, you're out. If we're herd animals, some of us just don't make the cut.
I deleted a couple of recent posts because, to be honest, I didn't want to put out that kind of negative energy. This blog is for my own enjoyment, and though a very few times I've had a very large (for me) number of views, these are aberrations. The rest of the time, the process is all. But I salvaged this image, because I felt it was worth keeping and thinking about.
So you can make up your own mind about this. Most people say, oh yes, isn't that awful, I just hate it, then go right back to doing it. Survival of the meanest, I guess.
Misadventures on Facebook: the "other" file
Good morning, gentle readers. Since I must constantly keep you updated and informed on the fascinating details of my dull, disappointed life, here's two cents' worth of stuff on a phenomenon you may or may not have heard of.
It's called "other".
You may have heard of catfishing (or "catphishing", a more accurate term) in which someone on social media assumes the identity of an imaginary person, hooking in somebody who is lonely, vulnerable and easily deluded. This happens for obvious sexual, emotional and/or financial purposes which are always self-serving, and sometimes sadistic. It happened to Meri Brown of Sister Wives, no less, and a watered-down version of it happened to me, sort of, but I wasn't aware of it for years.
I don't get a lot of FB messages except from one person, a close friend I keep in touch with because he has been sick lately and not given to talking about it unless I ask him. Then I read a post from another FB friend which said something like, "I don't know if you're aware of it, but your Facebook messages have a category called 'other' which functions like a junk email/spam file. It automatically files suspicious messages and isn't obvious to access. Most people don't even know about it." I just had to find out what this was about.
There were a few dozen messages, some of them of the "unclaimed money" variety where you only have to send the person $5000.00 to get your billion-dollar "lost" inheritance.
Some were nonsensical, and a few were generic "hi, let's be friends" messages that hoped to snag me very easily, the hook being barely baited.
I've picked out a few favorites. Some of these went back several years because I simply didn't know they were there: it's not obvious at all, and as with so many Facebook features, you have to be born knowing about it, unless you're me. Then you never find out until it's too late.
2 mutual friends: Genni Gunn and Linda Clay
I do everything at I AM A GENERAL CONTRACTOR
June 29, 2012 11:27 pm
HELLO PRETTY LADT I WAS JUST PASSING WHEN I SEE YOUR WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL FACE I WAS CATIVATED IF YOU DONT MINE CAN WE BE FRIENDS
This has got to be one of my favorite Facebook messages ever. Never before have I been called a "PRETTY LADT", and I never will be again. These things are sent out in bulk in the hopes that one in ten thousand might "bite", take the bait, be completely convinced this guy (? Could be anyone) is interested in her personally, is truly "CATIVATED" (speaking of "catfish" - maybe this was an encoded warning of sorts). And I have to admit, I "DON'T MINE", never have mined and probably never will mine because I simply don't have the equipment.
This reminds me of something from the old TV series WKRP, in which someone filled out a dating service form with hobbies that included "logging", a much more rugged activity than low-impact running. There are usually details to pad out the profile and give an impression of prosperity, reliability, whatever. A "GENERAL CONTRACTOR" who does "everything" (including a lot of vulnerable women) must seem like a good thing: this is a self-employed, financially solvent guy who writes all in caps and can't spell.
hi,
my name is Grace, i saw your profile and i became interested to know more about you, please can you give me the chance to know more about you? i will be very happy to be your good friend . this is my private E_mail ( babegrace222 (@) yahoo.co.uk )
PLEASE DON'T REPLY ME HERE. CONTACT ME THROUGH MY PRIVATE E_MAIL, SO THAT I WILL SEND YOU MORE PRIVATE PICTURES ( babegrace222@yahoo.co.uk )
You and Justine Favour aren't connected on Facebook
Lives in Kharkov, Ukraine
Now this one is really strange. Why would a person named Grace (not a friend, of course) take special notice of my profile, saying she "became interested to know more about you" (then repeating the phrase)? The "babegrace222" alone is very strange and emanates the possibility of porn-y pictures. But then there is that "PLEASE DON'T REPLY ME HERE" which is in urgent caps, and the reference to "MORE PRIVATE PICTURES" - ay ay ay! What sort of private pictures, and how much do they cost? (But remember she wants to be my "good" friend, so it must be OK). But the strangest thing of all is that this message isn't from "babegrace222" at all, but someone named Justine Favour who is NOT on my Facebook page and lives in Kharkov, Ukraine. If she exists at all, I very much doubt her name is Justine Favour.
Chat Conversation Start
April 16, 2013 9:30 am
Hi, How are you doing? hope you are doing great..Iam John, from Austin,Texas.Am 9year widower,i live with my pet dogs wamma and sandy. I need a long term relationship a woman who will love me for whom Iam..caring,loving,nice.passionate,romantic honesty,with a great sense of humor.sure,Am a gentle man,caring,lovely,respectful,passionate,romantic,good manners with a great sense of humor.distance doesn't matters in any relationship,what matters is the heart and love shared.i love traveling,going to the beach,playing pool games,camping,fishing,drawings,watching movies and sunset. you caught my attention.i will love to know more about you..keep safe and God bless. John,
This is the closest thing to classic catfishing I've ever received. Probably sent by some cash-strapped middle-aged woman desperate to squeeze someone (anyone!)so she can pay her overdue bills and her drug dealer. Every detail in this thing has been stage-managed: the up-front phony well-wishes, the mention of living in Austin, Texas (somehow a solid, wholesome-sounding place),and the nine years being a widower - such a long, long time to be lonely and bereaved (though he has two dogs, golden retrievers who bound around their master, eager for a walk to go score some wallets in the park).
He immediately states what he "needs", "a woman who will love me for whom Iam"(sic). He then goes on to list his reams of good qualities, many of them repetitive. "Loving" and "lovely" may have been conflated, unless he truly is lovely (a slip?). The really revealing statement is "distance doesn't matters in any relationship". This is always a red flag in social media, because it places the other person at a safe (unsafe) remove. If you never look into the other person's eyes (and the photos they send might be of George Clooney's better-looking brother), you never catch their vibes, see into them and figure out if they are sincere.
It goes on and on. "You caught my attention" has a generic feel, and notice he never uses my name. "Caught" has squirmy connotations when applied to catfishing. And it's doubtful he even looked at my profile picture because they're often abstracts, landscapes and pictures of Harold Lloyd. The activities he enjoys, take note, mostly don't cost much, so he's cheap. "Sunset", the last activity mentioned, doesn't cost anything at all. "Keep safe and God bless" is the ultimate irony, because if you in fact answered this thing, I doubt very much that you would be on safe ground.
A couple of these things had apparently disappeared on me, leaving me wondering just how bad they might be, or who was policing it in the first place:
This message has been temporarily removed because the sender's account requires
verification.
Loquilla Loca. Hmmmmm.
Sorry, folks, I had to include this one (with certain details changed to protect ME) which came in and was promptly filed under "other", even if it isn't strictly catfishing.
But it is, most definitely, junk mail. Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam.
Let me tell you just why this offends me so much. I was briefly in an online a "writer's group" (a contradiction in terms, I've always felt) that was based exclusively in Toronto, with the writers doing more nasty, whispering playground-talk and backstabbing than anyone ever did on FB. Most of it involved slagging writers from anywhere but Toronto, a kind of blood sport. I mentioned doing some contract work for a textbook press and was sniggered and sneered into the ground: "oh well, I guess if you want a paycheck that badly", "cheap outfit, shitty pay", and worse.
This gooey invitation-thing reeks of exclusivity and pathetic CanLit insularity: we seem to think we're big shit, and sadly, we are not.("Plus, it's just nice to have any excuse to go to the Dakota, isn't it?" Oh, my goodness, he's from Toronto so he must be right!) Myself, I thought the Dakota was where John Lennon got shot, but no, it's in that only-place-in-Canada-to-be-a-writer-of-any-importance, Toronto. I was grateful to see the event was "totally free" - I've never heard of anyone with the audacity to charge people for a book signing, but in Toronto, one never knows. (And I never knew there were degrees of "free": partially free, 75% free, totally free?). While I am the first to admit that "this book launch just gets better and better" (didn't anyone tell this guy he's trying too hard? But this is what Toronto authors sound like now), I am also quite eager to pass, since they probably do a retinal scan at the door to make sure you're not from Vancouver.
It ended up in "other", folks. It's a piece of junk, a mass mailing that never should have come to me at all. I'm not about to hop a plane and spend a couple thousand dollars to go see Honoria Birdsong push her dope book. Sorry. Please go fishing for someone else.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Bloody Awful
This is one decent thing from Facebook, via my good bud Matt Paust. I'm going through another round of bitterness about this whole thing. Please note, I'm not bitter about everything in my life. In some areas I'm the happiest I've ever been, particularly my family. And I just lost 30 lbs. and look better than I have in years. The things I can wear now! I just wanted you to know that.
But certain things never get resolved, and the hard work I've put into my craft has, apparently, been for nothing. I'm tired of gluing the happy-face on and trying to be a cheerleader for the industry, when my heart has been run over 570 times and no one seems to notice or care.
I just deleted a bitter diatribe I wrote yesterday, only to notice another one from the day before, so I'd better leave it. I've always felt out of kilter in the world, a square peg not willing to shave all her corners off to "fit", and social media/trying to "make it" as a writer has multiplied this problem a thousandfold. The work is supposed to be its own reward, it's still the best part, and I hope people will take my books out of the library and read them (for I don't care two figs about sales or profits or anything, just having a small readership. But that matters to me, very very much.)
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Mia Loves Ryan: Cutest cat video EVER!!
In case you think my tone has been too sour today (which it has), here's a CUTE kitty video! Probably the cutest one you'll ever see.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Busted! ‘In Touch’ Catches ‘Sister Wives’ Star Meri Brown’s “Catfisher”
(A follow-up on the Meri Brown catfish story of a couple of days ago. That impeccable source of information, In Touch Weekly, has closed in on Catfish Woman and had a guy interview her in a phony foreign accent to make it seem less like In Touch Weekly. True to form, Jackie Overton, outed a couple of weeks ago, denies everything. But what do they expect her to say: "Oh, yes, I'm Jackie Overton and I catfished Meri Brown. Surprise, surprise!" It's like these reporters on Dateline who chase after a guy on trial and yell, "Mr. Peterson, did you kill your wife?" "Oh, yes - they might as well just give me the lethal injection right now!").
Caught in the act!
Jackie Overton — the woman who pretended to be a businessman from Chicago named Sam Cooper in order to lure Sister Wives star Meri Brown into an online affair — had nowhere to hide when she was confronted by In Touch Weekly at her Shindler, Okla. home on Oct. 9.
RELATED: ‘Sister Wives’ Star Meri Brown Turns Desperate As Catfish Affair Goes Bad — Listen to the Voicemails!
In audio recorded during the incident, Jackie denied her identity when asked by In Touch Weekly and struggled to give any name, stuttering as she said, “My name is Ka, Case… Kelsey Williams.”
The real Kelsey Williams is actually a cheerleader with Oklahoma City Thunder
Jackie Overton, who claimed to be a woman named “Kelsey Williams.
In fact, she denied knowing Jackie Overton, but when she was shown a picture of herself — from her own Facebook — she failed to keep her stories straight, telling In Touch, “The picture you showed me looks like her. But that’s not me. I have no idea.”
Additionally, the glasses and moles of the woman claiming to be “Kelsey Williams” match up with the ones seen in Jackie Overton’s Facebook pictures.
RELATED: Kody Brown’s Daughter, 19, Is Heartbroken to Be Rejected By the Mormon Church
Interestingly enough, within hours of the confrontation, the phone number provided for “Sam Cooper” — which was also connected to Jackie, and another one of her fake identities (a woman named Lindsay who claimed to be Sam’s assistant) — had been disconnected. Shortly thereafter, the website used as a front for “Sam’s” business was taken offline as well. (Blogger's note: but here's his blog link, and does it have some interesting stuff on it!)
Listen to the audio of the confrontation to hear all of Jackie’s lies:
For more on the Sister Wives scandal, pick up the new issue of In Touch Weekly on newsstands now!
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Meantime, beloved readers, for whom I rise to worship and live for each day (?!), here's another squeeze of juice: a Facebook page set up specifically for the Meri/Jackie catfish episode! One of the more bizarre manifestations of Facebook I've ever seen.
https://www.facebook.com/Open-Discussion-for-all-things-concerning-Samuel-Cooper-AKA-Jackie-Overton-486671998181807/
Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!
Thursday, October 15, 2015
More logos, late at night
The RKO Radio Picture logo is significant mainly because it told us we were about to see a picture with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in it. It's too bad we don't have that compelling morse code beeping in the background. Someone finally deciphered what the morse code stood for. No, not something indescribably filthy! It just says "A Radio Picture".
Nice early Warner title, if a bit static. I wish they'd stuck with this one - I never liked that obnoxious WB logo thrusting at us, which went along with the equally-obnoxious "doyyyyy" of Bugs Bunny cartoons.
This is the best CBS eye "aperture" logo I've been able to find. Not the greatest, but the few others I've found are closely attached to end credits and can't be isolated. These gifs don't make themselves, you know, and some of them take a long time.
One of the strangest logos I've ever seen: a real find. This is why I keep chopping my way through bad copies of bad logos late at night, because once in a while I garner a gem like this one. I've always loved the Pathe rooster because he seems to take an iconoclastic stand against roaring lions and all that MGM spectacle crap. Give me a crowing cock any day.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Tastes as good as it smells
I've long believed this is the perfect commercial. It's the combination of sensory enjoyment (seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling) with hypnotic repetition ("Tastes as good as it smells" is repeated FIVE times in the space of one minute). If you watch it carefully, you'll see a brilliant montage of simple, effective black-and-white images, a steaming coffee pot, a white oval cup filling with dark coffee, the cup being slowly raised until the coffee fills the entire screen. . . The oval motif is echoed by the shape of the can, and the perspective between these objects is simply masterful. By the last shot the open can is being tipped towards the camera, and a little avalanche of ground coffee just casually spills down at us.
There's something deliberate about the whole thing, the pacing of it, as if someone is handing you an item, and an item, and an item, not rushing, but each item is solid platinum, you can't put it down. It's the opposite of the loud, pushy hard sell. . . but pitching the slogan FIVE times? I had to count it on my fingers (my brain doesn't go past four) to believe it was that many times. It's something to do with the simplicity of the narration which is hypnotic in a way that's hard to analyze. See the coffee pot, smell the coffee, taste the coffee. See, smell, taste. So seductively are we told this, over and over again, and by such a smooth announcer, that we don't even realize that they are commands. But then there is the final stroke of brilliance, that bongo-ish percolator sound that sticks in your memory forever. As if this needed any more sensory appeal! Yet to watch it is to be completely seduced by an ad that seems unremarkable in its utter simplicity.
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