The year that was 2020 was so challenging, it apparently decided to leak into January 2021 with an encore act called, ‘violent sedition in America in the interest of overthrowing a free and fair election’.
I could vent and storm on Traitorous Trump and his minions until my fingers bled onto my keyboard. But after more than four years of the Trump dumpster fire, I feel exhausted.
But in short:
A) I’m not remotely surprised.
B) The magnitude of the act should chill the blood and nauseate the stomach of every person who supports democracy. It is a topic that should not be washed from the forefront of our consciousness in a month, in a year or a decade.
C) It isn’t over yet. The body of the American democracy has been poisoned and I can’t hardly gauge how long it will last, how bad the reverberations will be. Although Trump was flushed from the Whitehouse, he, his offspring and cronies will continue to pollute our country for the foreseeable future. We now have something analogous to nearly half our population who say the world is flat. That is not the traditional, ‘loyal political opposition’. – That is a fundamental fractured world view. We are not a country that looks at the same facts and come to different conclusions. We are a country where almost half of the populace have ‘alternate facts‘.
“Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”
~ Voltaire
On the plus side: Trump is no longer president. The so-called GOP are diminished in power in both houses. Some righting of wrongs can be undertaken. Hopefully, the foundations of our democracy can he be shored up so that they can better weather the next assault.
I wonder if we could dip the entire white-house grounds in bleach to help reduce the Trump stink…? Regardless: I hope, that al least, they replaced all of the mattresses, seat cushions and toilet seats.
So, it was with some enjoyment that I share this house. Every year, it’s good for some amusement. But finally, this year, we pulled over and took a couple of quick pics.
On an initial, quick review, one might find pleasure in the overall random color chaos. But if we zoom in, and pan around, we’ll see some real gems.
Starting on the left, there is a standard Santa alongside what appears to be a gingerbread house with a Santa hat wearing ginger man popping out of the chimney. Next to this is a gingerbread princess. Surrounding the princess are a large candy cane, a small candy cane, a couple of cut-out gingerbread me, an American flag and a nutcracker.
Panning right, we see some sort of stair critter peering from a melting snow mound. I can’t tell what species, but whatever it is, I think it has an eating disorder. I suspect that this is not a seasonal decoration, but intended as a year-round improvement to the yard aesthetic.
Tucked along the porch edge is a bright blue Eeyore with one blue hoof on the head of what appears to be a rabbit holding a lamp (or the glass elevator from Willy Wonka). And if you look in the left corner of this image, in front of the mini-stone bird bath, there appears to be a Mickey or Mini Mouse face-planted in the mulch.
As we continue our journey along the bedding, we find a small collection of Disney Dwarves and a Snow White (whose head is covered under a garbage bag). I wonder if all the dwarves are there, but some are hidden beneath the garbage. In front of the dwarves is a Pepsi can.
Panning further back, and up the fence, we see two Disney decorative plates: a Tinker Bell and a Beauty (of the Beast fame.) I suspect (or hope), that they are not official Disney merchandise given the fact that they are extra garish.
Now, let’s zoom out a bit to appreciate the right side of the image more holistically.
The top windows of the house have 3 light-up plastic wreathes. The porch, the tree, and part of the sidewalk path are garnished with different sized lights.
Tucked on the porch are colorful remnants: some decorations that did not make the cut. One wonders what the criteria is for failing.
Framing the stairs are two large ‘Noel’ candles and a rather puffy candy-cane.
An inflatable Micky monitors the sidewalk and a maliciously grinning Grinch closely inspects the dormant grass in front of the dirty snow. To the right of the Grinch is a stray garbage bag that might be suffocating some additional, unseen dwarves.
To the far right, we see a light-up faux pine tree scaffolding, topped with a star. Behind the tree is a bench painted with the American flag.
Now, let’s zoom back in to the centerpiece…
The pièce de résistance is the plastic Nativity scene which includes an orange cow; a porcelain-white (and yet-somehow middle-eastern) Mary (who seems to be staring into the void, contemplating her life choices); a pink shawed Joseph; two wise-men and a donkey with alien eyes kneeling in reverence over a cradle-less baby Princess Leah (who apparently lights up but is currently unplugged).
Behind all, the gingerbread man seems really delighted at having knocked out the third wise-man who lies supine behind Mary.
It delights me to think of the owner putting down the last of the decorations: the final touches. Standing back, hand on hips, a pleased smile and a knowing gleam in the eye. ‘There. That’s it!‘
I hope they had fun decorating, because I, at least, had fun looking at the decorations.
“Not long ago, if you wanted to seize political power in a country you had merely to control the army and the police. Today it is only in the most backward countries that fascist generals, in carrying out a coup d’état, still use tanks. If a country has reached a high degree of industrialization the whole scene changes…. Today a country belongs to the person who controls communications.”
For starters, I suppose I was wrong because I didn’t want to let my guard down based on the surprise of the Trump 2016 outcome. I didn’t want to feel complacent. And because of my apprehension, I put more effort into fighting against Trump and his enablers.
But, there was also evidence: signs, signs, everywhere Trump signs.
BothTrump rallies and door to door campaigning would have manifested more lawn signs than Biden’s more digital approach.
And then there is the factor of rural vs urban voters. Urban voters far outnumber rural, but, of course, rural, pretty-much by definition, are the ones most likely to have yards and farms for signs to be posted.
Although the maps of counties make PA look overwhelmingly red, those fewer blue counties are more urban and hold the majority of voters.
For us, although we’re rural, we opted to not put out a yard sign for a number of reasons, including the fact that we don’t care to broadcast our political proclivities to many of our Q-Anon, radical right neighbors. But just as importantly, we didn’t want to generate more garbage for landfills. (Yeah: we hug trees too…)
But even if I was wrong in my yard sign calculations, I’ll say that I was way too close to being right. It shouldn’t even have been a contest. Even now, as I did correctly predict, Trump is advocating for nothing less than a coup d’état: an over turning of the will of the people. It amazes and devastates me how normalized this treasonous behavior has now become.
But I want to end on a positive note. The battle is not won, but it is joined. Trump, the loser, lost again. Biden, a man of compassion, has won. And for that, we turned on our smart-bulb lights to red, white and blue and blasted fireworks into the sky. Sometimes, being wrong, is alright.
There are no pets in this White House, no loyal man’s best friend, no Socks the family cat, no kids’ science fairs.
No time when the president takes off his blue suit red tie uniform and becomes human, except when he puts on his white shirt and khaki pants uniform and hides from the American people to play golf.
There are no images of the First Family enjoying themselves together in a moment of relaxation.
No Obamas on the beach in Hawaii moments, or Bushes fishing in Kennebunkport.
No Reagans on horseback, no Kennedys playing touch football on the Cape.
Where’d that country go?
Where did all the fun, the joy and the expression of love and happiness go?
We used to be the country that did the Ice Bucket Challenge and raised millions for charity.
We used to have a President that calmed and soothed the nation instead dividing it, and a First Lady who planted a garden instead of ripping one out.
We are rudderless and joyless.
We have lost the cultural aspects of society that make America great.
We have lost our mojo, our fun, our happiness, our cheering on of others.
The shared experience of humanity that makes it all worth it.
The challenges and the triumphs that we shared and celebrated.
The unique can-do spirit that America has always been known for.
We’re counting down to the election. Less than a week away now.
I think there is a palpable dread in the air.
My take is: even if Trump is flushed from the White House, the damage that he and his toadies have done to this country may be a fatal wound. – It will certainly leave scars and damage that will take a long time to recover.
The Supreme Court (and a now a huge percentage of the federal bench) is in the clutches of the far right. That fact alone will continue to bleed the country of justice for a long time to come. In that way, Trump (and more credit worthy), Moscow Mitch McConnell, have already won.
And if Trump loses, a huge percentage of the populace won’t accept it. That will includes reinvigorated right-wring militia and white nationalist types.
Our best hope to pull out of this nose-dive isn’t just a Biden / Harris landslide, it’s also if the corrupt GOP loses control of the Senate.
But even so, I fully expect Trump will never accept his loss and will gather his sycophants around to poison the body of our democracy.
Trump is a mean little coward, a bully and a troll.
A trump loss doesn’t mean we’re healed, it just means, at best, that we’ve stopped the most aggressive stabs to the American body. We will still be in jeopardy of bleeding out. We will still be at risk of a poisonous infection.
“This is how elected autocrats subvert democracy—packing and ‘weaponizing’ the courts and other neutral agencies, buying off the media and the private sector (or bullying them into silence), and rewriting the rules of politics to tilt the playing field against opponents. The tragic paradox of the electoral route to authoritarianism is that democracy’s assassins use the very institutions of democracy—gradually, subtly, and even legally—to kill it.”
“The greatest menace to freedom is an inert people; that public discussion is a political duty; and that this should be a fundamental principle of the American government.”
Last weekend, I had an occasion to drive across Pennsylvania. I saw Trump signs out number Biden signs at a ratio of about 100 to 1. And so many of the signs weren’t just run of the mill, small signs. Many were extra large, banners and home made billboards. I can’t vouch for the rest of the swing states, but I think Trump is going to win Pennsylvania. Perhaps not the popular vote, but I think he’s going to get the electoral votes.
“The way of fortune is like the milkyway in the sky; which is a number of small stars, not seen asunder, but giving light together: so it is a number of little and scarce discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, that make men fortunate.”
End of the month; actually a lot happened; more than I have time to write about; yada yada yada…
So, instead, in commemoration of the vacation I’m not taking this summer because of the plague: here is a hot summer breeze blast from the past photo memory. Lake Powell: September 3rd, 2017. Oh, how I miss you.
Desert Moon Rising over the beach waters and buttes of Lake Powell.
My better half and I know, or at least highly suspect that among most of our friends, we’re the considered the crazy germaphobes.
Visiting Home Depot tonight, we saw a woman pushing her cart around without a mask. (In spite of the BIG sign on the store front that says masks are mandatory.)
We grumbled to ourselves about this disrespectful infraction, with many a surly glare towards the massless woman.
Checking out through the open air garden center, wearing our masks, we were still fuming over the woman, when a masked man in front turns to us, looks down at the marking on the ground and says, ‘6 feet’.
We were about 3 inches short of the 6 feet social distance marker painted on the cement floor.
Again: I wonder at people’s thought processes. This is a decently maintained property. (Although the garage looks a bit nicer than the house, interestingly enough.)
There is an interesting combination of earnestness and humor.
I’m guessing that the angel is a repurposed nativity angel that in this instance, was propped up to cheer fellow citizens in the time of Covid crisis. Keep the fait! And wash your hands. (‘Warsh’) Further down the yard, we see a ‘posted sign’. The owner (who has even gone to the trouble fo signing and addressing the sign) seems to care a lot about trespassing. The property is probably not more than a half an acre, I’d guess. – And it’s a typical yard: not the kind of place where one has trouble with hunters, trappers or lawn fishing.Another hand painted, off-kilter sign nailed to a large tree in the front yard. This sign is a permanent fixture. Beneath the sign though is a reminder that one needs to ‘Drink More Milk, Less Pop and Beer’.
In pursuit of some level of exercise, I have occasion to walk local neighborhoods. There are little, implied stories in the neighborhood yards.
I’m rather found of yard kitsch. There is a story here, if only we can read it.
Here is one such story:
This is the front yard of a house. The lawn is unmowed and unkempt. And yet, there is a small, roughly rectangular patch of dirt, about 2 foot by 4 foot.
The patch of dirt is decorated with a selection of flowers: both real and artificial, attended to by scarf wearing ceramic rabbits and two faux-butterflies. Laying on its side is a black and yellow, watering can invoking the image of a large, grounded bumblebee.
So, is this someone’s idea of yard beautification? Is the watering can part of the tableau or just abandoned after a recent flower watering? Did the designer buy the plants and ornaments specifically for the scene or is this cobbled together from treasures already on hand? After the flowers were watered, did the creator stand back, hands on hips, nodding in self-approval. ‘There! THAT is what the yard needed!’
Or is this all tongue-in-cheek? Created with a wink and a knowing smile: some private joke, laid out for the neighbors to see and ponder.
Or is it a sad monument to a fallen pet? If so, it’s kind of large and peculiar with its front-yard location. If it’s a pet cemetery, one must know that it will someday be lost to the yard. And yet, how sweet? – An homage to a loved companion.
Perhaps it is more sinister: a grave of a minced murder victim. – All suspicion covered in kitsch.
“There are eight million stories in the naked city suburb. This has been one of them.”
“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.”
In the video, Mr. Ward is well besuited as he outlines the latest speculation on Jong-un’s health from his bedroom… Wait what am I seeing? Computer: zoom in. Enhance lower left corner of screen…
Note to self: clean up your bedroom a bit before going onto national news.
Interestingly, so many people are confident of the precautions that they, themselves, are taking. – From those who are most cautions to those who are taking it lightly and the gradients in-between, most people seem self-assured that they’ve got it right and everyone else is a little off their rocker.
But in this pandemic, I see a dark foreshadowing of global warming. Global warming is more destructive but subtlier. And the degree to which it is acknowledged, it is aided by a sense of creeping normality. The changes are slow and diffused and the cause and effect are less obvious from an average human scale and perspective.
Some are hopeful that the Coronavirus pandemic will be a reawakening to the value of expertise and the ‘elite‘. With our current leadership trends, I’m less optimistic these days. I hope I’m wrong.
The song, ‘Wondering Where the Lions Are‘, usually strikes me as hopeful. Today, it strikes me as a warning.
Sun’s up, mm-hmm, looks okay The world survives into another day And I’m thinking ’bout eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me
I had another dream about lions at the door They weren’t half as frightening as they were before But I’m thinking ’bout eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me
Walls, windows, trees, waves coming through You be in me and I’ll be in you Together in eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me
Up among the firs where it smells so sweet Or down in the valley where the river used to be I got my mind on eternity Some kinda ecstasy got a hold on me
And I’m wondering where the lions are (wondering where the lions are) I’m wondering where the lions are (wondering where the lions are) I’m wondering where the lions are, uh-huh…
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan “press on” has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”
Ah! February 29th: the rarest of blog days. Kind of makes me wish I was born on February 29th, then I’d be four times as young.
Since September of last year (2019), I’ve been getting out, doing a lot of walking and hiking. And this last weekend, we did an overnight backpack trip. (I’ve done my share of backpacking, but it’s been a while and I was rusty and inefficient.)
Each month, I have had a workout goal measured in hours. I started slowly, in September with only a 10 hour goal. And each month since then, I’ve increased the goal by 5 hours. So, February’s goal was 30 hours. – March’s will be 35, April 40 and then it’s 40 for the foreseeable future. (Turtles all the way down.)
Since September, I’ve walked or hiked 266 miles. (That is to say: concerted, exercise, not incidental, boring old, everyday walking.)
What’s more: I’ve started a little resistance workout again.
All of this is a positive development and has helped me weather the gloom of late fall and winter.
As an aside: thinking about weathering the weather makes me think of this:
Who knows whether the wether will weather the weather.
I started to write an entry on the state of news and the world of politics but I felt the life force draining from my body, so I’ve shelved that. Let’s just say: it’s bad and we’re all doomed and leave it at that for now.
However, in a matter that somehow feels vaguely like a visual metaphor for the politics of our time, I share with you another type of rubbish.
– Filling my vehicle with gas one evening, I spotted this single, rubber glove draped over a trash can. This was simultaneously creepy and amusing to me. I wonder how much you’d have to pay the average person to pick up that glove with their bare hands…
“Oh, single rubber glove, discarded without care, what is thy story?’
Somehow, the single glove conjures even darker thoughts about what is in the tied plastic bag beneath it. Darkness and evil lies therein, surely…
And now, I’ve done my duty by sharing this meaningless piece of debris with the world. You’re welcome. Stay tuned for more exciting posts in the year to come! – What an auspicious way to kick-off a new decade!
I’m not a winter person. But this year, (so far) I’ve done better than many winters before. (I count anything after Halloween as proverbial, if not literal, ‘winter’.) My mood has been helped in large part because I’ve gotten out regularly to hike and imbibe nature in spite of the seasonal gloom.
Still, I’m finishing the year with a some kind of cold or contagion and with the winter solstice now behind us and the days getting ever so slightly longer again, I find myself dreaming of summer.
With that thought in mind, I leave the year with a blast from a summer past.
I have 104,403 photos in my photo library catalog. That is the majority, but it isn’t all of them. Invariably, there are a few thousand floating in folders that have not yet been imported.
I often ask myself, what good do all of these photographs do? What will become of all of my efforts to organize, back-up, meta tags and color correct them when I’m gone? Who will care?
So, as happens as more often than not, I find myself at the end of the month trying to fulfill my self-inflicted mandate to post at least once to each section of this website. It also usually happens that on countless nights, as I struggle to sleep, my mind will race with endless musings and prospective blog posts. Invariably, these ideas either fail to come to me as I sit to write or they feel outdated or two unwieldy and time consuming to commit to pixels.
Writing a journal / blog, is a bit like always answering the question a friend or acquaintance might ask you, “What’s new?” … (MIND BLANKS)… “Ummmmmmm… Nothiiiiiing…What’s new with you?”
My frequent fallback position is to dig through my photos for inspiration or at least a nice image that I can quickly post. Today was one of those days.
But for my public facing portion of this site, (“WorldView”), I have a lot of ‘rules’ that I have made up for myself: chiefly around privacy. That means that I generally won’t post photos of myself, people in my life, or details about where I live. That eliminate a LOT of interesting photos as possible sources of posts.
However, as I scrolled through my photos, feeling that I didn’t have much to say, I was once again surprised by all of the pictures on my phone alone. In just the last few months since I last cleared it, there were so many little moments of life captured: vacations, animals, work, meals, landscapes, activities… So many incidental instances that are so easily lost in the fog of living and yet, which comprise the best of life itself.
And that’s just on my phone… Scrolling through my photo library leaves me with a deep feeling that I have lived a lot.
So, I suppose, that at least, is reason enough for the photos and a good enough post for another month.
“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.“
“Change. How do you change yourself?… It’s easy to lose yourself or never find yourself. The older you get, the heavier that baggage becomes that you haven’t sorted through, so you run. I’ve done a lot of that kind of running.
I’ve spent 35 years trying learn how to let go of the destructive parts of my character. And I still have days when I struggle with it.
We all have our broken pieces. Emotionally, spiritually in this life, nobody gets away unhurt. We’re always trying to find somebody whose broken pieces fit with our broken pieces and something whole emerges.
A certain kind of magic took place. The music began to take on a life of its own. Life’s mysteries remain and deepen, its answers unresolved. So you walk on, through the dark because that’s where the next morning is.”
As I’m want to do, I was watching an old episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show late one evening. The episode was, “Christmas and the Hard-Luck Kid II“. In it, Mary is alone in the news room late on Christmas Eve. Someone has entered the building and she’s frightened, jamming the door with a chair. She stands back and then hears an elevator start up. I heard the sound and was immediately amused by the recognizable sound. Watch the video: judge for yourself. (Sound required, of course.)
In February of this year, I visited the local Science Center and was amused by this dispenser, set out-side of the gift shop.
Above the dispenser was a sign that these were ‘gems from around the world‘.
Clearly, something had happened because the original signage for the dispenser was supplemented after it had gone to market with a warning that these are, ‘Real Stones – Do not Eat’.
(Side note: I can also guess that the author of the sign did not know how to make a ‘¢’ sign, because writing, ‘$0.50′ is an atypical way to indicate, ’50 cents’ unless you’re working in a spreadsheet.)
It’s an odd world we live in. Unlike the vast majority of what our ancestors experienced over the millenniums, it is becoming common that the ‘nature’ we experience in our lives is simulated and that we must be warned when we are encountering the real thing, lest we eat stones from machines.
“Here is one way to conceptualize NASA’s heroic era: in 1961, Kennedy gave his “moon speech” to Congress, charging them to put an American on the moon “before the decade is out.” In the eight years that unspooled between Kennedy’s speech and Neil Armstrong’s first historic bootprint, NASA, a newborn government agency, established sites and campuses in Texas, Florida, Alabama, California, Ohio, Maryland, Mississippi, Virginia, and the District of Columbia; awarded multi-million-dollar contracts and hired four hundred thousand workers; built a fully functioning moon port in a formerly uninhabited swamp; designed and constructed a moonfaring rocket, spacecraft, lunar lander, and space suits; sent astronauts repeatedly into orbit, where they ventured out of their spacecraft on umbilical tethers and practiced rendezvous techniques; sent astronauts to orbit the moon, where they mapped out the best landing sites; all culminating in the final, triumphant moment when they sent Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to step out of their lunar module and bounce about on the moon, perfectly safe within their space suits. All of this, start to finish, was accomplished in those eight years.”
~Margaret Lazarus Dean, Leaving Orbit: Notes from the Last Days of American Spaceflight
As part of my evening ritual to mentally wind down before sleep, I watch old TV shows.
Watching an episode of Columbo, “By Dawn’s Early Light” (first airing Oct. 27, 1974), my attention was caught by this visual:
The courtyard of the fictional “Haynes Military Academy”.Columbo has ‘one more question’ for Col. Lyle C. Rumford in the episode, “By Dawn’s Early Light”, filmed in South Carolina’s ‘The Citadel’.
This location made me think of this fellow:
Michael Myers – Halloween 1978
The reason for the connection is due to the rather (horrifying [for all the wrong reasons]) 2018 Halloween sequel which featured the Michael, aka the boogeyman at the (fictional), ‘Smith’s Grove Sanitarium’:
Inmates chained to stations in the courtyard of ‘Smith’s Grove Sanitarium’.
Even though the courtyard’s buildings were obviously different, I thought the tiles and institutional nature of the buildings to be so similar that they were probably shot at the same location. I just didn’t know if the buildings were actually updated, or digitally replaced between the 1974 Columbo and the 2018 Halloween.
“Much of the reason Military Magnet and The Citadel have maintained such a longstanding community partnership is their shared emphasis on academic excellence in a disciplined military environment. The Citadel has greatly influenced Military Magnet Academy, according to Principal Anderson Townsend. In 2009, the Charleston County School District redesigned Military Magnet to look like a miniature replica of The Citadel that includes a red and white checkerboard in its center quadrangle similar to those found in the barracks at the military college.“
So, there you have it: an obscure, odd little bit of TV / Movie trivia, also known as, ‘how I spent three hours of my mortal allotment researching, writing and screen grabbing because of an idle moment of curiosity.‘
“I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts – you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.”
The humor in today’s video, speaks, I think, for itself. (But then again: I have a robust, dark sense of humor: so your mileages may vary.)
This snippet is from Dragnet, The Hit-and-Run Driver which first aired April 6, 1967. In this snippet, Joe Friday (Jack Webb) and his partner Bill Gannon (Harry Morgan) meet a reporter over breakfast to discuss an article he is writing on traffic accidents.
Spoiler alert: Joe goes on to make the reporter rush off to puke.
Here is the are a couple excerpts (variations) that can be used for a ringtone:
MP3: The Hit and Run Breakfast (entire snippet)MP#: Snap at the Knee JointMP3: Striking You From BehindMP3: You Aren’t Around to ExperienceMP3: Your Dead
Continuing my observations of watching late night reruns, today I bring you a shocking Brady Bunch double entendre. In this scene, Peter storms in, thinking his brother Greg has taken the girl he wants to date. At first, he only calls Greg a, ‘rat’. After confronting Greg, Peter basically calls his brother a big putz directly to to the faces of their parents. – But he does it in a classy way, because this was the 70s and a family show, after all.
In my efforts to ease my mind into sleep at night, I like to watch older TV shows. I find little easter eggs in them. Some quasi-historical, most TV trivial, and some musings of my imagination. And it is from the latter, that I bring you an episode (#17) of the Brady Bunch, “Coming Out Party“. The episode first aired January 29, 1971 and in it, Mike’s boss, Mr. Phillips enter’s Mike’s office and invites the Bradys to spend a day on his boat.
What caught my eye was the artwork in the wall. Computer, ‘enhance’…
Clearly, this is very early concept are for Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. – All Terrain Armored Transport / AT-AT walkers.
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