Chamblee54

Today is the solstice. It is the end of 2025. The Julian calendar says that the end of the year is in another 10 days. One of the jobs for today is to put out my Solstice meme. This is the second year that I have done this. I have spent the week working on it, and have chosen a winner. I need to work on it a bit, and make sure I’m using the right font.
The winner is the picture of a Warrior Princess on a building in Little Five Points. I’ve been trying to find the original. Unfortunately, my record keeping is a mess. It is causing brain damage to find this thing. One of the problems is One Drive, the microsoft cloud. When I transfer files from one machine to another, the od sometimes loses the files. The original is in there somewhere.
The image was used in poem q007, Poetry Is Part Three. The line was “Masked And Made Flesh In Writing.” PIPT was something I found on twitter. People were trying to define poetry … a lost cause … and came up with some lines describing poetry. It was the raw material for a poem.
The Warrior Princess was chosen for the background. Then it came time to try out the fonts and color schemes. Black and white Comic Sans was the font. The inside of the letters was going to be dark gray, hexcode a0a0a0. The fence is going to be on the right side of the Warrior Princess. In real life, the Warrior Princess is at the far left end of the building next to a fence, with greenery growing in the barbed wire. Because this is a fantasy we’re going to put the fence on the right side.
The picture was taken April 7th at 1910. I was going to the Little 5 Poetry Bash. I got there early and went around taking pictures of graffiti. The Warrior Princess was in back of one of the theater buildings … probably not rag-a-rama, probably the one that has the Variety Playhouse, and not the one with 7 Stages. Whichever one it is, you have to pay to park there
Most of the other pics are from the The Library of Congress. I only have the details for one. … John Vachon took the picture in November 1938. “These men are both past sixty. Neither of them expect ever to work again. They ride freight trains from Omaha to Kansas City to St. Louis and back again. Omaha, Nebraska”. The other color image is from the Chalktoberfest. This event is held in Marietta, on the same day as the Pride parade downtown.

This content was posted November 26, 2024. … Thanksgiving was a time our family cherished. It was the only time all of us got together under one roof and mingled. Except for me. ~ I was the family embarrassment. They were Catholic, and disliked my way of life. I played guitar, loved Heavy Metal, and worshiped Satan. ~ All this explains why my family shunned me. In their eyes, I was the flaw of a nearly perfect gem, but in mine, I was the cream of the crop.
I should’ve known they had something awful in mind when they asked me to join them somewhere. They drove me to the very corner of the ranch. ~ “What the fuck are we doing back here,” I asked. My only reply was, “Shut up you blaspheming fool.”
At last we got to the destination. My father, mother, and sister were standing around, wearing funeral clothes. ~ In the middle was a shallow grave. “What’s that hole for?” I asked dumbly. “Take a guess you satanic fucker!” Was the reply from my father.
I felt a thud on my head. I hit the ground with a loud thlap. I turned in spite of excruciating pain to see my uncle wielding a shovel. ~ I touched the back of my head to find my fingers coated in blood. I suddenly grew light headed and passed out. When I woke up I inhaled dirt. ~ Luckily, my family didn’t know how to properly bury someone so I was able to dig myself out. I sat there and puked for about fifteen solid minutes.
When I got back, it was Thanksgiving night. through the window I could see my family, sitting there, saying grace like the sheeple they were. ~ Seeing them praying made my hate for them and all Catholics grow. It went from a smouldering, muddled anger, to a flaming, outrageous hatred.
I ran into the garage and found my uncle’s shotgun, sitting there, waiting for me, beckoning, saying, “Go ahead, make these fuckers pay.” ~ “Hi Mom!” I shouted as I pulled the trigger, I started laughing uncontrollably as I continued firing at my family until I was empty.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” My father asked, wounded, shot in the gut. “Wrong with me?” I asked calmly. “What’s wrong with you?” ~ With that I threw the gun away and dined. Not on Turkey, but on raw human flesh. It was the best Thanksgiving ever. ~ Twitter serialization by @creepypasta_txt. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Marion Post Wolcott took the social media picture in August 1940. “Bayou Bourbeau plantation, a Farm Security Administration cooperative, vicinity of Natchitoches, La. Three Negro children sitting on the porch of a house ©Luther Mckinnon 2025 · selah

In the early nineties, I had too much free time. On March 25 of one year, he looked in the fishwrapper, and found a list of famous people with birthdays.
There was an unlikely trio celebrating that day. This would be (in order of appearance) Anita Bryant (1940), Aretha Franklin (1942), and Elton John (1947). All three have been paid for singing. The three have a total of five husbands.
Several other people have arrived on planet earth on March 25. They include, in 1911, Jack Ruby, the killer of Lee Harvey Oswald (d. 1967) (They don’t say alleged when it was on live TV). 1918 produced Howard Cosell, American sports reporter (d. 1995). 1925 produced Flannery O’Connor (d. 1964). 1934 gave us Gloria Steinem. To make room for all this talent, Buck Owens died March 25, 2006. On August 16, 2018, Aretha Franklin was heaven bound, with Anita Bryant following December 16, 2024.
March 25 is after the spring equinox, and has been Easter. A few noteworthy events have gone down on this day. In 1894, Coxey’s Army departed Massillon, Ohio for Washington D.C. In 1911, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire killed 146 garment workers in New York City. In 1939 Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli becomes Pope Pius XII, to the delight of Adolph Hitler. 1955 saw the United States Customs seizes copies of Allen Ginsberg’s poem “Howl” as obscene. In 1969, John Lennon and Yoko Ono began their first Bed-In for Peace at the Amsterdam Hilton Hotel.
HT and applause to wikipedia. This is a repost. Pictures are from The Library of Congress. Marjory Collins took the linked photograph in February 1943. “New York NY Band in an Irish-American restaurant O’Reilly’s at Third Avenue and Fifty-Fourth Street, on Saturday night.”