I hope the Wife appreciates this.

What in the hell motivates folks to carry on w/ this blog bullshiiiiii ?


The way things used to be.

It is now time for me to offer my thanks albeit tardy to all of our Vets. Thank you all and happy Veterans day. The above picture is of 5 staunch Republicans atop Mt. Democrat (irony) in Colorado and all pictured are current or former members of our Nations fine Army.

What a HOLE! What does it say about a town when your claim to fame is "The Fossil Fish Capitol of the World." or better yet "Home of the 1rst JC Penny's." It's a coal town filled w/ folks that are aptly suited to the coal industry. At first that may sound rude but think about it, the people of Kemmerer are as self sufficient and industrious as any. Hard exteriors and hard lives. I don't profess to have a profound knowledge of the town or its people but for the last couple of years basically living in these tiny bergs I have come to the acute realization that I really like small town folks. Most people in the civilized (if you indeed consider it civilized) world look at small town folks as country, slow, or backward. While there are some who fit that stereotype they are without doubt the exception. Rural folks are the same as all of us they just appreciate differently. They appreciate hard work foremost. They appreciate responsibility, your word, and good conversation over a warm beverage at the local cafe talking about the way things used to be. This morning such a conversation was carrying on when we walked in for breakfast and all the good old boys at the bar noticed the UP truck and invited us to join them. It's odd but small town folks consider all Railroaders kin and so we got to talking w/ Vern, Carter, Bill, and T with their respective ages Old, Older, Oldest, and Dusty, the script turned to days gone by. The longer I listened to my new and aged friends I couldn't help but think that in a small town the way things used to be are still the way they are. I love that. These old boys were great, they carried on w/ everything from how many bullets T had to put in that steer after it got "wired" over in Opal before it would stop breathing (9), and how soft their "gitt'in" over at the mine now that they've switched to 12 hour shifts. They truly appreciate the simple life. I envy these folks, I really do. Imagine living a life where you don't have to worry about all the B.S. that we plague ourselves w/ while living in suburbia. B.S. like traffic, unless Leroy is moving his herd to the lower forty cause then US30 is gonna slow for a bit. Or crime, unless the boys wrestling team steals a toilet from the hardware store and puts it on a ex-girlfriends lawn and hangs a sign "Debbie is a lying piece of S#!+, please leave your piece of S#!+." Or immorality, wait, every 16-19 year old female in a small town is knocked up so never mind. Just kidding, it's another untrue, but kinda true stereotype. I would love to live in a "HOLE" or a place whose claim to fame was "Home of Demaris Millicent the Guinness world record holder for longest toenails." But if for some reason or wife I am unable to enjoy permanent residence in a small town I hope that I'll be able to glean a bit from their way of life and maybe when I'm gone someone will be talking about the way things used to be and I'll make one of their stories, "Oh that old sunofabitch Rob..."

View from my office window


When ya gotta go, ya gotta go!

Randy's quite a picture taking phenom himself isn't he.
So I'm a little fired up tonight about a few things. Actually just two things; Levi Strauss and Joseph Glidden. You know who Mr. Strauss is and call me a nerd for knowing who invented barb wire. The frequency that I'm going through jeans is unacceptable. You always hear about how revolutionary the copper riveted denim jean was back in the day but my current battle of "barb wire vs. trouser" where trouser never wins is leading me to believe that Levi's invention was a fraud. Today I tore out the crotch in my fourth pair of pants in as many weeks and my patience is wearing as thin as the seat of my drawers. I guess part of the problem is that there must be an unwritten rule in the agricultural realm that if there is a railroad bridge on your land it is the absolute best and proper place to anchor your fence to. Every bridge in my world has the devil's rope attached to it in one way or another and unfortunately as I have determined the proper height at which Farmer Ted chooses to install his wire coincidentally coincides w/ my crotch. My worst fear is that some day I might have the sad misfortune of losing my footing wilst crossing over one of these dreaded baricades and give a whole new meaning to bareback rodeo at which point my pants become the least of my worries. Toot's you might not get that little girl you want. Or maybe you would depending on the severity of the straddle only you would be married to her. OUCH;-} Of all these wistful thoughts I can't help but be saddend by the idea of living in the time of old Levi Strauss. Think about it, the poor sacks that bought his pants thought of them as a Godsend, I think they suck. Pre-Levi pants must of been the shits! That's what is sad, no man should of had to live his life in such an unproper pair of britches.


My life has recently been effected by the mind blowing work of a artist who's work is far ahead of his time. His name is R.S. Webb and his photographic skill may have just changed my life. Below is some of my personal attempts to re-create his genius.