These photos are interesting to me because my Father was going through the medical school about the same time (1963) and some of the situations are similar to what I have in our own photo albums.
Were buffalo used to roam there is now the Glacial Hills Scenic Byway where no one roams anymore, just an occasional car with passengers who didn’t find anything better to do on a gloomy Sunday. Scenic Byway officially starts at Ft.Leavenworth, passes through Atchison, twists and turns through Troy and stops right before the Nebraska border at White Cloud – a place still recovering from the housing bubble of 1929.
White Cloud is home to the 4-State lookout – a place where you can see Missouri, Kansas, Iowa and Nebraska at the same time.
Panoramic view from the lookout can be seen here.
Miss Teen Kansas lives here (at least until 2010):
White Cloud was voted the best place to dispose of a dead body:
Just don’t forget to “dispose of all head and guts” and leave the work area clean for the next person.
North of the White Cloud you will find an Indian Casino adorned by the symbols of past glory: Eagle Feathers, Eagle without feathers and an unfinished tepee:
At the casino zombie-looking white people are sitting in the clouds of smoke, mistakenly hoping they can fool the Indians again. Instead, their money is financing the modern-day tepees.
On the way back you can cross the river, drive past the Squaw Creek National Wildlife Refuge,and return home via I-29.
Overall, this is a pretty nice weekend trip, but it will probably look more picturesque during the spring and summer months. There is a lot more to be seen in Atchison and there is a 10-mile auto route around the Refuge.
A little worm asks his father:
-Daddy, why do some worms get to live in apples and oranges and we live in a pile of shit?
-Because it’s our Motherland, son… Old Soviet Joke
When I was boarding a plane to Los Angeles last Wednesday I knew all about my destination.
It was full of aging hippies…
…who wear Birkenstocks year round…
…overrun with crime (I am pretty proud of this shot right in front of the Grauman’s Chinese Theatre)…
…chronic diseases…
…about to be washed out by a tsunami…
…infested with illegal tax preparers…
…where fat people are discriminated against while being taunted with snacks…
…and skinny people are being put on a pedestal.
But somewhere during my five days in LA, my American dream got kicked in the groin. For years I was arguing with my friends on both coasts that I live in a better place, full of parking and almost devoid of traffic, safe and with good schools, reasonable and affordable, while still having a chance to see recent Broadway shows and dine at ethnic restaurants. After every trip I returned home complaining about the crowding, overpriced real estate and horrible traffic everywhere I went, feeling good about the rush hour slowdown on the highway we refer to as “traffic” and my relatively minuscule mortgage payment.
LA made me realize how badly I was mistaken. My friends were right, I live in a Podunk town, in a boring provincial backwater where the foodies are taking turns revisiting the same 10 restaurants and 3 markets; where the same 6 women (and probably men) are at the top of all dating sites (albeit under different handles); where finding a date with at least two degrees of separation from your previous one is almost impossible; where any chain restaurant opening is an event worthy of TV news coverage and traffic congestion; where the only bragging rights are “at least we are not Tulsa or Omaha”. Indeed we are not.
At the same time there are wonderful magical places where it’s almost always warm and sunny but you can look up in the mountains and see the snow; where at any given time more women are dressed in heels and bikinis than the whole statistical female population of the KC Metro Area; where the people are always in a sunny mood and free of depression or PMS and are happily smiling even while being arrested; where the 52-week donut project would take 52 years and still will not be able to eat a donut at every one of them; where the restaurants from all over the world are open even in the areas that are not scary without bars on the windows; where the oranges and lemons grow in people’s backyards instead of the allergy-inducing trees that are planted here for some mystical reasons; where the produce is not an imitation food sold here; where fat people are magically drawn outside to ride bikes or walk or run so even their over-consumption of donuts or cakes from a Cuban bakery around the corner is not detrimental to their health; where driving up and down the mountain roads makes one feel like James Bond; where you “can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile”.
So I told my daughter to pick a college in California, the only place where my American dream can make another run for it.
Maybe I can take a ride on the “Possibility bus”…
…or just mount my Focus on top of a school bus…
…I can trow down my magical money blanket on the sand…
…or pour my lifetime savings into a yacht…
…just so I can see this…
…or this…
…and this…
…and I will wait as long as I have to.
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4J0HD_82hw
P.S. I don’t need to know why it’s so great to live here and why it sucks in California. Trust me – I know. And learn about hyperbole.
