Archive for the 'Unsure' Category

Stuck-Up Pin-Up

The vintage press photos that I’ve been collecting lately regarding sticker culture in the United States seem to feature politicians in big dark suits standing next to campaign stickers or women posing with stickers (see also Republican Stickerkitty).

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This United Press photo from 1957 has a caption taped on the back that states, “Stuck-Up Pin-Up. Playing tag with very pleasant results, shapely Elsa Howorka of Rego Park, Long Island, N.Y., decorates her swimsuit with a package of airline baggage stickers at Wantagh, L.I. The result is enough to gladden the heart of any freight handler, although there’s certainly no resemblance between Miss Howorka and a bag.”

1957__stuck-up pin-up02-back-cropped

One exception is a press photo of Joe and Marjorie Picket.

Mysterious directional stickers in Berlin

Yesterday while biking around Prenzlauer Berg and heading toward Wedding, I came across another rash of mysterious directional stickers on sign poles along Eberswalderstraße.

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This was after finding directional stickers last spring further south along Stresemannstraße and turning onto Zimmerstraße. The stickers are typically orange (or faded orange) with an arrow or arrows pointing straight ahead or turning left or right.

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A couple of times, there would be a blue triangle nearby pointing in the same direction, as if the streets are telling us something.

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I also found two orange arrows last year by Marianneplatz on Bethaniendamm. On all three occasions, I photographed the directional stickers using my Canon SX 280 HS camera with built-in GPS unit, so you can see pictures and their locations on this Flickr map.

Screen Shot 2014-05-07 at 12.12.37 PM

This morning, I looked at the photos I took yesterday. I didn’t see it at the time, but that blue triangle appears again on a few sign poles, too.

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Weird! Three separate locations in the city, but what’s in common?

 

Hmm, nope, sorry, sweetie.

Kitty is pretty darned tired and parched after riding around Berlin on a rented bicycle for the past couple of days.  At the end of each day, I say to myself, “This is the last sticker!  Keep riding!”

And then on my way back to the hotel yesterday, I rode past a sticker that said “Unverschämtheit!  Nazizombies auf den Straßen?  Tote haben nicht zu laufen.”

Screetch!  Pull over.

My fancy high-end Mac F12 translator (ha, kidding) indicates that it means “Insolence!  Nazizombies on the roads?  Dead do not have to run.”

Hard to pass by that one.  This happens all day long.  “I’m done,” I declare.  And the stickers respond, “Hmm, nope, sorry, sweetie.”

I went back to the anarchy bookstore (as I call it) in Kreuzberg yesterday afternoon.  It’s one of the strangest places I’ve ever been to.  Not overly scary.  Just out there.  My Dad would not be happy to read this.  I’ve done worse, tho, Dad, so don’t worry.

The walls inside at the anarchy bookstore are crawling with black hoodies, T-shirts, and ninja masks.  That’s the best way to describe it.  Very dark and claustrophobic.  Punk teenagers go there to buy stuff for the antifa protests, I guess, based on the few young boys who came in while I was there, and seeing what they bought.  Punks here in Berlin these days are unlike U.S. punks, and regardless, with my light green skort and J-41 sport shoes, I was certainly unlike anything they’ve seen there before.  Cultures, collide!

As I entered the store, the owner/manager said something to me in German, and I said, “stickers, aufkleber,” and he let me inside.  In one corner crammed full of stuff, there were boxes of antifa stickers.  I worked my way in and thought, “There is not a single human being who knows where I am right now.”  Sometimes, that’s alarming.  Sometimes, it’s comforting.

The person who runs the shop is handicapped, I believe, possibly from an accident.  He was outside in a wheelchair when I got there and then all of a sudden appeared next to me inside trying to get up to a scrap of rug where he sits and runs everything.  “Ten cents a sticker,” he said.

I selected about 40 or so, with a few dupes for friends.  At the time, the man was talking to one of the young punks and then started singing as loudly as he could, making up sounds and words that made no apparent sense.  He was trying to get my attention.  I kept my face buried in the box of antifa stickers.  I finally went to pay for the stickers and must have said something in French, b/c the guy then started speaking in fluent French.  When I asked, he said he knew five different languages (and probably more, given what I had witnessed).  It was surreal.  I give the guy a lot of credit, though.  I also gave him my business card.

I’ve been to this anarchy bookstore three times, and each time, it reminds me of the scene in “Apocalypse Now,” in which Marlon Brando sits in a dark pool of water, affected yet disaffected by what is going on around him.

More to follow tomorrow.  Kit Kat is off to sleep.

Kadarshians or Kardashians?

Still nothing in The NY Times about the recent 2011 Dresden marches and counter-protests.  It’s been well over a week.

I learned about Ryan Seacrest yesterday.  And the Kardashians.

Where have I been?  In a secret sticker bubble?

STCKRZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!

Much happier with stickers than Kadarshians or Kardashians.

Kadarshians or Kardashians has a certain Kurt Vonnegut ring to it, doesn’t it?

Parasites

Another coincidence.

I’m watching Glenn Beck on FOX (a first!), and one or both of my cats has roundworms (also a first!).

D-i-s-g-u-s-t-i-n-g!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(OK.  Something really weird/scary just happened.  I was trying to capture a .png shot from the GB Web site, and my computer went dead.  Twice.  I’m not going back there again.)

So, all you get is a shot of the roundworm. Just pretend the other parasite is pictured below.

Roadkill

I’m heading to DC this week on the coattails (har de har) of a Tea Party march on Washington, DC, held today at the foot of Capital Hill.  While there Tuesday-Thursday, I’ll keep a close eye out for stickers, fliers, street posters, and ephemera for and against.  The last time I was in DC over the summer, however, it was  s-l-i-m  pickings.

The Tea Party stuff (Palin included) belongs in a category I call “roadkill.”

Can’t look at it.  Can’t look away.

Nauseating, nonetheless.

This picture is from the NY Times article:

they tiny feet

My previous reference to grasshopper legs was a poor nod to a poem by the well-known cat cartoonist B. Kliban, though I didn’t really remember the whole thing until y-e-s-t-e-r-d-a-y.

“Love to eat them mousies,

Mousies what I love to eat.

Bite they little heads off…

Nibble on they tiny feet.”


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