(Political content warning. You have been warned! Not too bad though.)
Let's face it—not the best week, for TOP or the United States of America.
I hope you missed as much of the Convention as possible. It was, frankly, awful, and I use my words carefully. Republicans shouldn't mind me saying that, because there weren't any Republicans there. Politics aside, I just want to point out a few more instances of American Irony, which, as I keep saying, is my bête noire. First, the man is a real estate developer, and his clearest policy promise is...a giant construction project. Stop it please. Why does he want to build a wall? Because he's adamantly opposed to immigration and hates immigrants...and oh yeah, is married to an immigrant. Ouch...have pity.... Next, his immigrant wife copies parts of her speech from the black First Lady they all claim to loathe (prompting the most hilarious Chris Christie quote yet—it's not plagiarism because "ninety-three percent of the speech is completely different from Michelle Obama's speech"), but nobody seems to notice that the parts she lifted concerned honor, personal ethics, and character. Uncle! Uncle!
And have I mentioned that his name is Trump? Which means to play a card capable of overriding the cards in the suit being played. Really, it's gonna kill me some day. Irony body-blows, smashing me in the conceptual kidneys. I ache.
Now, I know I opened the door, but no comments on the political situation, please. I'm lonely and I just needed somebody to listen to me. (I'll read them myself, though, even if I don't post them.)
Meanwhile, back at the Farmhouse-by-the-lake-almost*
So here on TOP, we started out the week with l'affaire de Ctein, which was unpleasant. Then I wrote a long, off-topic "Open Mike" about how turning things around and looking at them from different perspectives can sometimes brighten your mood. To be honest, that was to cleanse the palate, or flush the toxins, pick your preferred metaphor. Blog are nice that way—everything, good or bad, gets supplanted in due course, and before you know it we're talking about something more pleasant again.
Strife sells, unfortunately. Graph of TOP traffic over 17 days.
Guess which dot represents the day I wrote about Ctein.
From there we moved to discussing wildlife, or at least squirrels and turkey vultures (I still don't know what they were); random farmland on the way home from the grocery store; a nice video with nothing in it but water vapor; whether Fuji really mixes some sort of secret sauce into its sensors; and lastly a trip down Memory Lane to the tune of "Sensors You Remember," with illustrations by you. (D. Hufford's shot...wow.) Really, it's bad to be sentimental about sensors. But I have the feeling a lot of the tech magic of recent decades in photography is buried in those little chips. Where the heck did Kevin Purcell go, anyway? He must be on vacation. It's not like him not to comment on a post that features sensors front and center.
Finally, tonight, before I step away for the weekend (the whole weekend this weekend, I hope), I will be posting "A Short History of Digital Cameras." Nostalgia is nice, but we shouldn't forget why we were so anxious and eager to get rid of those old sensors in the first place—the ones we're now waxing nostalgic about. The "History" post will take a quick look back at all the stairsteps we so agonizingly climbed to get to the sensors we have today.
Oh, and remember how, two weeks ago, I was perseverating over how I was going to buy, for myself, a new camera with IBIS (which stands for in-body image stabilization, something my old Konica-Minolta 7D also had)? Well, now I don't have to! No, I take that back—now I can't. The refrigerant is leaking from my 20-year-old central air conditioner, and all of the money I earned from the Four-Book Photobook sale (plus a little more, just to make sure it hurts) is going to have to go for a new air conditioner. All of it. Every penny plus five or six hundred from my bank account. Ya hate that. So I don't get to buy a new camera. Or even a lens. For the foreseeable. There goes that. Fired down.
As I say, bad week. One good thing: I got top comment on a New York Times article! Fired up. Go to "What Republicans Really Think of Trump," by Nicholas Kristof, then click on the Comments—that'll be the little speech balloon with the number in it, like on the right, above. Then click on "Readers' Picks." "TXinD76" (right at the top) is me. (For you film virgins, TX is Kodak Tri-X, and D-76 is Kodak's mainstream B&W developer formula.) I've never had the top comment on a Times article before. It was an Editors' Pick, too.
My father only voted for a Democrat one time in his life—William Proxmire of Wisconsin, I believe because Proxmire was a fiscal hardliner about balancing the budget. Dad threw in with Connally in the '80 election (he had friends in both the Connally and Reagan campaigns), and the horse he bet on didn't win. The job he wanted at the time was Director of OMB, which eventually went to David Stockman under RR.
"A History of Digital Cameras," coming up. See you again soon.
—Mike the Ed.
*Old Milwaukee joke: "UCLA" stands for "University of Cudahy Down by da Lake Almost," spoken in a think M'waukee accent. My house in Western New York is four layers of houses from the lake.
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