Whenever I see something like this, I try to convince myself that it was intended as a clever bit of sarcasm. And yet.. the hair, the cheesy moustache, the bandana to hide the receding hairline, the recruiting of children to fill out the political crowd. Well, it all fits a bit too well. Perhaps- being a bit more optimistic- this photograph simply illustrates the problem of a heavy reliance on spell-check and the growing lack of attention to detail.
British Prime Minister Gordon Brown strenuously denied the validity of claims made by , by Andrew Rawnsley, author of The End of the Party, that he bullied his staff. Rawnsley, a political commentator said he based his reports on hundreds of interviews with officials and politicians who witnessed the events described. In an interview, Brown called the charges "malicious" and totally untrue. However, Nomadic View has uncovered spy cam footage from Number 10 Downing Street which seem to back up Rawnsley's claims.
I thought you might enjoy a bit of beach blanket madness. By the way, I still dance like the guy in blue Speedos- even to slow songs.
In fact, I suspect that this little gem of male chauvinism is probably not Turkish in origin. I did however find it in Turkey years ago and have regretfully witnessed many such scenes, except the men are less like models and more like street cleaners and the women are altogether typical. I will skip over the pose.
My reaction was shock, followed by eye-rolling disgust and then, to my surprise, mild amusement at its multi-faceted vulgarity. Ayip bir sey, indeed.
http://nomadicjoe.blogspot.com/2009/04/super-good.html
So much for the background. Now comes the bit about Crypto-quotes. A simple substitution cipher is one in which each letter of the original text is replaced by a different letter, which altogether makes a quote by a famous person.
For example, Mark Twain's quote would be written:
RQK HUBSG YFQ TYFPQF HC DIH ID KUHT HTYB Y SCCP QLYADXQ.
These would appear every day in The Oklahoman, and, being impatient with crossword puzzles, I would wile away my free time, trying to figure them out. Later, one of my co-workers, Richard, had taken the time to instruct me carefully on the details for solving these puzzles. Common letters-patterns for both consonants and vowels, single-letter words, two-letter words. After awhile, I became quite good at it and within, say, 5 minutes, I could usually work out the solution. (Now I couldn't complete one to save my life, for some reason.)
After about a month, I came up with a prank that I thought- at that time, anyway- was genius. My plan was to solve the puzzle first thing in the morning, before Richard had had a chance to look at the newspaper. And, then, I would drop the secret message (that is, the solved cipher) into the middle of a normal conversation, as if, it were some kind of sudden insight. Later, I imagined, he would begin to work on the problem and realize what I had done. If he had already solved the puzzle, then the joke would come off immediately. Ok. I admit, it isn't a knee-slapper by any stretch but it seemed clever at the time.
That particular day the secret message was: The beauty of true friendship is to understand and to be understood. Noble sentiments, to be sure, but I was not especially interested in any deeper meaning.
The front office, where customers were met and served, was to be the scene of my “escapade.” I was not officially welcome there and, staying past a 10- minute limit would provoke sharp remarks and spiteful looks by the overeager management. Kyle, the owner's younger brother, was the mildly incompetent service manager-or whatever they decided to call it- in charge, at least in theory of a crew of service representatives. In the crew, there was Matt, a kind of young but rather heavy person with a very narrow sense of humor. In fact, his view of everything was pretty narrow. Melvin, the only black guy there, who tended to push the limits because he understood his racial advantage. To put it more precisely, Melvin was completely aware that the company needed him slightly more than he needed the company. And finally there was steely Louisa with the short reddish hair that naturally spiked. Wallet and chain and the perennial cowboy boots.
I forget what the conversation was about; certainly it had nothing to do with beauty or friendship or understanding. Probably something work related or some off-duty exploit. I let them chat awhile and then I said, with an impressive air of astuteness. "You know something, the beauty of friendship. You know what I think? The beauty of friendship is to understand. And.. to be understood." There was this strange moment of hesitancy and blankness. This was something I hadn't counted on. I casually looked around. Matt squinted at me, trying not to look cock-eyed. I suppose he didn’t know how to respond. Louisa's eyebrows were knitted and stared at me in bewilderment. Rich was paying no attention at all and began reading an article in the paper. I decided, at that moment to make my exit. I waited and waited, but the plan fizzled. On this particular day, Richard had been called out of the office and had not had time to work on the crypto-quote. Hadn't had the time or inclination. And that was that. Well. actually, no.
Later that afternoon, Louisa came to the warehouse. "Say, um. What are you doing after work?" She asked me. This certainly took me aback. I was strictly an outsider, as far as the service department was concerned. They would openly discuss Sunday picnics and Saturday beer parties without even thinking about whether to ask me. I am sure, if in the unlikely possibility that I had been invited, I would have graciously declined. If I was an outsider, they belonged to a club I had no desire to be a member of. Still, for Louisa to make a special effort intrigued me.
"Nothing. Why?"
"I was thinking about going out for a beer after work. Want to come along?"
I didn't really know much about Louisa. A few details about a troubled relationship with a drunken father. My first thought was, therefore, that she needed somebody to talk with, somebody that had a certain amount of perspective and distance.
So after work, she drove us across town in her monstrous 4 by 4 to a little hole-in-wall bar named something like "Pearls." Small reflective windows, discreet signage, a wraparound gravel parking lot. Flat roofed and a minimum of exterior decoration. I must have driven past this place a hundred times but, instinctively, I sensed it was not my kind of place.
Going from the hard Oklahoma sun to the cavernous dimness of the bar felt like somebody had thrown a burlap bag over my head. As my eyesight returned, I noticed that every other person in the bar was a woman. Women dancing with women and rough looking women with arms around cheerleader types. Frowning women behind the bar looking at me skeptically. Louisa was a regular and made sure to introduce me to her friends there. "A man I work with." Then, it dawned on me, that Louisa had heard me chirp my little quote about friendship and concluded that I was passing on some kind of "secret handshake."
A few of the women feigned hospitality and half-hearted introductions were made. Louisa got caught up in the bar social circles while I tried not to become a victim of some ass-whooping by an angry lesbian out settle some scores on my chin. As I downed the last of my beer and, with a jaunty smile, made my way to the door, I realized that, once again, the joke was on me. At least here, at Pearls, I didn’t have to try to fit in.
There was one time and not so long ago, that you seemed so fascinated by me and my little world. I still don't know why. You would lean close with your face, nearly pressing against the glass and I would glare back at you, 
staring unblinkingly at your expressive brown eyes. To search for meaning. To attempt to understand what you must be thinking at that moment. So yes, I admit it, I loved you.
The music you played, the rhythm of your footsteps, the snow storm of food you gave, all these became my experiences. You were my life and the only world I have ever known. And I gratefully accepted the life we shared. After all what else did I have beyond you?
I want to say I knew you well but I cannot. For hours I would watch you and try to understand. Try to become more of a part of your world. But subtract all the things I thought I saw and thought I understood about you subtract these from the rest of the world I could never make much sense of and only emptiness remains.
But last night, I called out your name into the blackness. But there was no answer.
So, tell me have you stopped loving me? A simple question to ask, I know. Did you forget my name or am I even real to you at all? Have I become only an ornament in a bubbling piece of furniture? Another thing in your life requiring regular maintenance.
And when I am gone and you are holding my gold satin corpse in the palm of your hand, will it matter much to you? Will my replacement come so easily to you?
Because last night, I looked out to the limits of my myopic view and called your name. I called your name- it is the only word I know- and I sang the song of love for you and I waited. But there was no answer.
A girl with an itch? Sounds positively infectious. Fleas, I guess or maybe that Negligee has travel a bit too far.
Not exactly underage, just short and dumpy. Tourist camp mobsters? I suppose this was before they discovered illegal betting or casinos.
This is probably the real reason phone booths were discontinued in the USA. By the way, I have done some checking online and there really is a division of the police emergency squad specially trained in prying loose fat ladies from tight places. No kidding!
The challenge was to eliminate some key part of a photograph using Photoshop for a humorous effect. Here are a couple of my favorites but do.. do ..do check out the others at the link below.
Check out the rest of the entries at: http://www.b3ta.com/challenge/invisible/
