Recommended Products (unsponsored)

         I provide this small list of items I wish I'd discovered when I was younger, don't know how I got-by without previously, strongly recommend now, and would immediately replace if lost.  Although approximate 2020 prices are included, I suggest using camelcamelcamel to know if the current price is high or low (relative to previous prices).  The links to Amazon are for ease of identification and are not sponsored links.

          This CGEAR ground-cover/mat is not only for camping and picnics, but can be staked down in high winds with attached eye-rings.  It was designed to be utilized as a beach blanket, to prevent sand from being carried back to the vehicle, but I use it primarily as a base for stargazing (keeps clothes / top blankets dry) and as a 'home base' when exploring the forest with my cat.

          Available in several sizes; the 8' x 8' is between $50 - $80.

          The DURALEX Unie glass has a perfect heft, volume, shape, and size.  It holds 20oz (560ml), weighs 9 ounces (250g) and is made of tempered Duralex, which is the same material as vehicle glass.  If it breaks it shatters into tiny square pieces and not into sharp shards. 

          There's only one perfect size: French pint tumbler goblet $10 - $15.

          Having a favorite bar of soap is a first, for me—but I am so dedicated to the smell, creamy texture, and longevity of these triple-milled Wavertree & London (lemongrass and lemon myrtle scent) bars, I keep a "back stock."  (It's not hoarding if you only keep a 6 month supply is it?)

          Large bar, made in Australia:  $9 - $10.

          This Ibiyaya double-compartment backpack is sold as a pet carrier (definitely great for cats) but—as a backpack—it is durable, ergonomically-comfortable, and luxuriously outfitted with great details (which you weren't even aware you'd appreciate, until you discover them in this fantastic piece of high-end luggage).

          Overall size:  22"x15"x11.5"; $145 - $160. 

    

A Flatter Curve Means...

• People not wearing a mask or social distancing (until 2021 or 2022) are more-than-probably narcissists, sociopaths, or fools.

• In the narcissistic sociopath's mind, everyone else is either insignificant or unimportant; their dysfunction causes them to only focus on their own convenience and comfort.  It's uncomfortable to breathe your own exhale.  It's inconvenient to maintain awareness in order to keep your distance.

• Psychopaths try to blend in, so they'll not be as easy to spot.

• Governments have begun to loosen restrictions because their hospitals are below capacity.

• Fools take this to mean: "it's all clear, we can go about our normal lives."

• Narcissistic sociopaths never wore masks or kept a distance.  They are just glad to be able to blend in with the fools now.

• Doctors and historians say this will not go away until at least 80% of the entire population contracts it (if antibodies prevent re-infection, which is still unproven).

• I had it and don't want it again.  I (and scientists) don't know if I'm still contagious.  I still wear a mask and keep a distance because empathy causes me to not prioritize my comfort and convenience over other people's life. 

continue covid19 creations:

on contracting it April 2020
re-contracting it June 2020

Kōan

Haiku 俳句
another haiku

Artwork

sociopaths infecting intentionally

narcissistic sociopath's behavior (besides no mask)

Arthouse Bizarre Convoluted Dark Films (ABCD Films)

          Continuing the theme from Chasing Svelte (films from 2005-2008) I provide eight of the most convolutedly-bizarre, dark-humor films of all time (as of 2019).   These ABCD Films are not in alphabetical order, best-to-worst, or oldest-to-most recent; they are in my recommended viewing/re-viewing order, which is referred to as mix tape order (explained by Rob Gordon in the very non-bizarre film High Fidelity).

           If you are unfamiliar with this cross-genre niche, welcome to discovering something you will either love or hate.   


Rubber is the first on this list because it rolls somewhere between unexpectedly-strange and oddly-hilarious.  Why do the characters speak English in this French-Angolan film?  No reason.  If Rubber is too surreal and unsettling (even though all great films, without exception, contain an important element of no reason) then you have already learned not to keep watching down this list.


Bad Boy Bubby is so much more of everything (which is why it's in the #2 spot).  This underground, extremely-dark Australian comedy contains some thought-provokingly disturbing imagery and very adult situations.  Not mainstream horror, but a few scenes fall so far outside "normal film standards" that viewers who enjoy it are confirmed ABCD film lovers.  (Rough-experimenal in technical quality.)


Allegro non troppo, an animated Italian musical formatted like Fantasia, is insightful, humorous, and consistently off-kilter.  Familiarity with the Disney film isn't a prerequisite.  The six shorts, accompanied by classical music, are sandwiched between strange live sequences with subtitles.  "Man's origin" set to Ravel's Boléro is permanently wedged in my monkey brain.  (Suitable for mature children.)


The Brand New Testament, a French-Belgian odd-quirky comedy, is much more main-stream than the films which precede it because "quality mix tape order" requires a softening lull and this begins the less-intense midpoint.  The next few are still ABCD films, but some leave less room for interpretation; less room for thinking; less room for discussion.


eXistenZ is Cronenburg at his Cronenburgiest (I mention because some are overly confused/put-off by his films).  It's as if Nolan's Inception was melted into Spielburg's Minority Report with a flamethrower—only with creatures grabbed from inside and put outside.  Watch it (again?) but don't focus on the when-did-that-what-happen.  Think about the subtexts.


John Dies At the End is delectably detestably (thank you word-suggest) debatably similar to the previous two (buoying-down/anchoring-up the slightly more Hollywoodish midpoint of this list) only John Dies At the End has significantly more sauce, overt philosophy, and abstruse wordplay (when you come across a new word for the very first time in your life you'll always read or hear it again within twenty-four hours).


Eraserhead intentionally makes empathic viewers uncomfortable in a myriad of ways.  That is its gift.  (Those querulously confused, lost, and/or befuddled are more-than-likely the opposite of an empath.) This is the penultimate ABCD film:  second-most experimental (behind Bad Boy Bubby); second-oldest (behind Allegro non troppo) and second-to absolute most surreal.


Gozu is a Japanese film (subtitles) with a Yakuza enforcer central character, but it's not an action/suspense film; it's engorged with dark humor, but it shouldn't be placed in the comedy genre; and it gushes with whatdidIjustsee (normally labelled horror) but doesn't fit comfortably in that skin.  Gozu will be tattooed into your long term memory.  It's overwhelming grand finale pushes the bizarre out. All the way out.

Serling's Mailbox - Answer Key

Before viewing this list of Twilight Zone episodes, see how many you can find in the original artwork Serling's Mailbox.

(click to enlarge and magnify)

ancillary addendum's to other artworks

...on Avril Poisson's Mailbox...

Asperger's Trait: Hyper-Focus (lack of eye-contact) Explained

          Some fellow-nefnd—who posses the Asperger's trait commonly labeled: hyper-focus, which is sometimes referred to as an extreme attention to detail and also, usually, confused with the symptom lack of eye contact—are unable to exercise control over their brain's focus or attention the way neuro-typicals are able.  Which, simply put, is one of the many reasons Autism is considered a disability.  I may consider hyper-attention to be my normal, but I recognize that being able to switch it off (without closing my eyes or turning my gaze toward a blank wall) would be hugely beneficial.  

          To aid in my explanation, I provide this photograph.  One early-Spring, first-covid19-quarantine, day-trip took us thru:  Granville Reservation, Texas Falls, the Robert Frost Wayside, and passed a well-maintained roadside cemetery East of Vermont 116 or North of 125 (memory fails which).

          The relevant point:  I was driving over 35mph (60kph) when my eyes landed—for a half-second—on these light blue doors about 100feet (30meters) away.  Because I can not shut off my brain's hyper-attention I became aware of the unusual (for the US) ventilation holes drilled into the doors and then returned my focus to the slight curve in the road.  Four seconds later, I recognized we were passing a cemetery and immediately made the connection with the doors/ventilation holes leading underneath it (presumably they lead to a place for the storage of lawn care, snow removal, and grave digging equipment or tools).  So, I turned the car around and went back for this photograph.

          If the ventilation stars were pointing up I would have still made a mental note as I glanced at them; no choice—can't turn my focus off—my inner awareness, if it were a monologue instead of images, would be an incessant hubbub of chatter grabbing for my attention.  However, short term memory would have over-written two regular stars as routine with some later, more overwhelming, images [like the flock of a dozen wild turkeys near Hinesburg or the road-sign to St George (I was in the process of creating that artwork at the time).  The turkeys and sign made it into my long-term memory but not into a camera].

          All it took, to turn a routinely-forgettable mental image into a sufficiently-overwhelming one, was the person drilling those ventilation holes to turn their template 36 degrees—thereby, causing me to spend a few seconds imagining foolish candlelit goings-on betwixt some weed-eaters, tarps, and a backhoe; a few minutes to take and upload the photo; and a few hours writing this explanation.

          Thank you ventilation hole-driller.

more memorandums on mind and memory:

...Asperger's traits and nefnd...

...ponder who you are...

...self awareness...

Wonderful Comment From Mr Lumpy Dirtball

          Occasionally, I write places other than on snapperhead about films, novels, and the opinions of others, but I need to be very overwhelmed or underwhelmed to do so.  In 2009, I was sufficiently underwhelmed by George Stewart's 1949 speculative fiction Earth Abides to write this comment on Goodreads:

          If I were to teach an upper-level college writing class, I’d use this book as the foundation for my semester.

          Just as secret service agents need real, expertly crafted, counterfeit bills removed from circulation and brought into their classroom to learn how to identify bad paper, every writer needs a counterfeit novel which made it into circulation and received praise.  Through deconstruction of this book, I could teach almost everything writers shouldn’t do.

          Hundreds of places the author could have ‘shown us’ with suspense, but instead ‘tells us’ with weak boring sentences.  For example, this is all we are told about our main character being attacked by a mountain lion:

  ...In the end there was bad luck, because Ish missed his shot and instead of killing a lion merely raked it across the shoulders, and it charged and mauled him before Ezra could get another shot home.  After that he walked with a little limp...

          And this, I believe, is the author’s failed attempt at suspense, which results in confusion (I’ve omitted nothing):

 ...one question, he knew, that they had not yet faced, and now she brought it forward.
“That would be fine!” she said.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, it would.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You mean you don’t like it for me?”
“Yes.  It’s dangerous.  There’d be no one else but me, and I wouldn’t be any use.”
“But you can read—all the books.”
“Books!” he laughed a little as he spoke.  “The Practical Midwife?"...

          The first sentence was probably supposed to read:  …and now he brought it forward…  But even without the typo, this is not only horrible dialogue (in a book desperately short on dialogue) as well as massive misuse of exclamation points (three times on every page minimum) but an example of the authors incessant self-censorship and avoidance of certain words and descriptions.  He avoids reference to human intercourse, birth, death, pain, anger, hatred, bigotry and bloodshed.  In a story detailing a handful of human survivors in 1949 California after a planet-wide plague—avoiding those topics (or glossing over them) becomes a herd of white dinosaurs in the room.

          There are thousands of poorly constructed sentences (like this one, which contains a large word-proximity hiccup):

…He began to temporize, just as he used to do when he said that he had a great deal of work to do and so buried himself in a book instead of going to a dance.

          Factual errors, which could have been avoided with a small amount of research, are prevalent (here are two):

…batteries with the acid not yet in them...they made the experiment of pouring the acid into a battery…put it into the station-wagon. It worked perfectly… (I guess in 1949, putting battery acid in the battery charged it too!)

…The clock was run, he knew, by electrical impulses which were ordinarily timed at sixty to the minute.  Now they must be coming less often… (AC power is 60 pulses per second).

          This book contains a main character and dozens of secondary characters we never grow to care about.  On almost every page a situation unfolds which could be easily re-written to involve the reader in the action, infuse the character(s) with depth and emotion(s), or add suspense to the plot.  Instead, the story centers around an emotionally dead man who preaches to a bland cast of less-than-ordinary idiots about their failure to reach for a fraction of their potential, while he wallows in an uncomfortable rut and never lifts a finger to attain any of his own potential.

          Aspiring writers and educators should use this counterfeit paper, available for less than the price of a cup of coffee at used bookstores, as a valuable learning/teaching tool.   In a time when there are so many books filled with examples of great writing—it's nice to have something chock-full of such a concentrated and vast range of terrible, boring, writing to weight down the other end of the scale.

          In the last decade, there have been dozens of comments on this review; some have corrected my mistakes (or attempted to), others range from a simple 'I agree' to relatively elaborate reasons why I should not have my opinion.  This week, a person who rants under the screen name Lumpy Dirtball added an extremely unique opinion: 

Lumpy posted a new comment on Veach's review of Earth Abides

 

Telling vs Showing: It's a stylistic pretense. Both styles can and do work to make great books. I get that you're dogmatically devoted to the modern party line, but honestly, you talk about it like you're making objective, scientific measurements, and it makes you sound ridiculous. It makes you sound mindless, as you're clearly just using popular, current opinion to flog peopl3 with - not because you've actually thought about it, or care, but just because it makes you feel witty and smart, despite being neither.

Your criticisms of technology are flat wrong, but your giant, brittle ego would never permit a simple admission. Even when you kinda-sorta acknowledged your mistake, you had to couch it in another insult at the person who corrected you. Talk about petty. That's just embarrassing. But I don't think you have the requisite neurological or cognitive "maturity" to experience that emotion. You're not really a developed human.

Oh. You also used "mmmkay" in a sentence to taunt a grown up. That'sca cringe that gave me cramps. What is actually wrong with you?

The thrust of your criticism is nothing but a dogmatic assault on a style of writing that bores you, and the cool kids don't like. So you took the lazy opportunity to bash the old guy in front of the hip young revolutionaries, as if you ever have a hope of passing yourself off as an adult human.

Your taste in books is trashy. The Road? Awful book. Truly awful. I suspect older, longer, 'historical' novels tax your patience. You clearly are not a neurologically 'complete' animal, so it's just a logical guess. All kinds of telling over showing in older books.

It nakes mectaste puke to even say "show, don't tell" as if it really meant anything more than a marketing strategy for getting people with child like brains to buy books.

And your stylistic crticisms... besides your own silly writing style - made to seem witty where wit is absent - you again show this highly neurotic rule-governed streak that amounts to nothing. Who would ever ask you to teach a writing class? You're a pop-culture, dogmatist with a personality disorder and no talent. You're generally ignorant, you imagine you know about topics you're utterly ignorant of, you don't know why you think what you preach, and I guarantee you, in whatever alternate universe that wants you as a teacher, the students will hate your guts, they'll learn nothing but how deranged you are, and you won't last a year. You bring nothing to the table but a chaotic jumble of unconsidered beliefs, hostile opinions, and obviously unmedicated mental illness. You'd fail that job (that nobody would ever give you) with terrible force. Into the ground and out the other side.

You didn't like a book. No biggie. You try to turn your dislike into a theatrical display of witty scorn? And pretend to have useful criticisms? Like you're a great writer? Good grief. I guess this is a safe place for you to exercise the hateful idiot within y ones ou. Lots of people use reviews to pretend they're that person. You're not. And even the smart ones are idiots.

          If I were to coach a high-school debate team, I’d use this comment as fodder for a head-to-head practice debate.

          Future trial lawyers, politicians, and philosophers need interestingly convincing topics, taken from real life examples of point/counter-point, brought into their practice debate-room to learn how to identify fallacies in logical argument.  Through deconstruction of Lumpy's comment about my comment, I could teach a debate team something they shouldn’t do.

          (This, dear reader, is what is referred to as a 'call-back' as well as 'bookends,' which I teach in an alternate universe for one whole semester.)

          I posted this re-re-reply to Mr Dirtball on Goodreads:

          Wonderful example, Lumpy.

          Thank you for so clearly showing you don't abide with any of my opinions, comment-replies, or even my taste in reading.  Perfect angry outrage.  I especially liked your slight typo usage (...That'sca cringe... and ...It nakes mectaste puke... as well as ...within y ones ou...) because it shows your emotional-crazy and helps add to the reader's immersion in your adrenaline as well as really paints the picture of you pounding keys followed by hurriedly sending without proofreading.

          If you'd written using George Stewart style, you might've told it in this manner:

          ...your review was neurotically off the mark!  I know this is so, because your taste in books is dogmatic and instead of providing any useful criticisms you merely make me so very incredibly, lividly, ups3t that my finger just hit the wrong key and my scorn causes me to not even it gointo edit.  Your stylistic criticism is nothing but witty scorn from a hateful idiot and you need to know it as soon as possible.  You aren't a good writer so don't follow through with your hypothetical college course, you'd fail.  Idiot!...

other comment-replies to emails and other internet commenters:
Modern Design Incorporated - when in need of irony and jewelry

Occasionally the inbox contains sufficient fodder

snapshaught sphoto number 13

          When I saw this 1¾" (45mm) sphere in a Portland, Oregon, antique mall I thought it might be a vintage "feathery" or "leathery" golf ball.  The tag said: Antique ball, $39.  I doubted it was a golf ball because of its size (slightly too large, compared to modern ones) and its price (too small for a nearly unused stitched leather 125 year old ball); I bought it anyway.

          Although commonly confused with golf balls (by the unscrupulous or ignorant) this was actually used to play Fives—a type of handball game involving hand-made soft leather balls of this size, weight, and style of stitching—between the late-1800s and early-1900s mostly in Britain.

          The memories this sphere instigates are about the period in my life between the summer of 2014 after receiving my new car, exploring antique stores with Pam, sitting in the sun at my desk in the dining area of my apartment, and walking in local city cemeteries with my cat, Cecil, but before 2016 when Cecil (for no reason I could determine) stopped wanting to explore cemeteries and, instead, skulked back to the car and hid under it.

          Also, it reminds me of the Monticello Antique Mall in Portland's Montavilla neighborhood, where we would regularly eat at The Observatory, a great restaurant (lifetime best: cheese plate and charcuterie plate and fry bread as a full meal for two or three).

similar essays:

Sphere Series (ongoing)
Whatz the Story Behind That (series) 

daytrip detritus (cat photo-art)

          daytrip detritus - 6 photos collected Winter 2019 thru Spring 2020 during Vermont day-trips and hikes.

other photos or composite art:

2019 Cecil Photo

Rule of Three Haiku

Serling's Mailbox

Serling's Mailbox - 11 May (Twilight Zone Day)

          List of Twilight Zone episodes represented in this composite-collage artwork:  answer key.

mailbox art series:
Santa Claus' Mailbox - 25 Dec (Christmas)
AULDLANGSYNE's Mailbox - 1 Jan (New Year's Day)
Sommerzeit's Mailbox - 8 Mar (Daylight Savings Time 2020 / 'Summertime' in German)
ÔSTARA's Mailbox - 19 Mar (Vernal Equinox / first day of Spring - northern hemisphere 2020)
Avril Poisson's Mailbox - 1 Apr (April Fools Day / April Fish in French)
St. George's Mailbox - 23 Apr (Feast of St George)
May IV's Mailbox - 4 May (Star Wars Day) 


image portion by Jamie Wheeler

Whatz The Story Behind That? 2

         
          This faded, chenille-stem dancer with long yellow hair, a ribbon-tamborine, and a basket of flowers—most-probably born from the hands of a craftswoman in late 1940s-occupied Japan—caught my eye in a Montpelier antique shop because someone had painted PORTLAND, Ore, on the base of the 2½ inch (65mm) tall figurine, which tickled my coincidence-button since we've both been faded by life (the pipe-cleaner statuette and I) and we both once resided in Oregon but now live in Vermont.  Together. 

          The phrase: occupied Japan causes me to ponder an unhappily married couple.  They no longer fight.  She succumbed for the well-being of her children and then patiently tolerated his choices and changes, walling her own desires away with as much fortitude as it took to not forget past mistakes (made by both) all-the-while resigning herself to a hopefully better future.  When people ask her why, she answers: Shikata ga nai (仕方がない) It can't be helped.  During both the war and the occupation, he acted as he always had: intentionally blunt and indignantly non-nuanced internment camps, fire-bombs, and hydrogen bombs, followed by pretending to have no knowledge of the magnitude of his actions, the availability of better options, and the mantra: she started it.  He has not changed (if anything, he is worse today) while she has changed for the better (a lack of totalitarian-fascism will do that), but it took too many decades and her self-image is still less than positive.

          I am intrigued by the figurine's label because in 1963, US state abbreviations were standardized as two-letter postal codes—Ore. became OR—which means the figurine was created between 1945 and 1952 (US occupation in Japan), spent some time before 1963 in Oregon and then ended up in Vermont by 2019.

• Select an item from your environment.
• Provide a picture, sketch, or other form of visual presentation.
• Tell its backstory (explain what it is, why you selected it, etcetera). 

continue reading about stuff:
Whatz The Story Behind That Series (ongoing)

Limestone Sphere (BK Germany)

WTSBT (Vermont maple syrup can)

Open Letter to Fuzzy Headed Faces from Prestigious Places,

          Please stop dumbing-down your [specific area of scientific expertise] to coloring book level.  I'm really sorry [name of college or university] doesn't pay enough for you to disregard all those enticing offers from [television channel] but every time you recite from a script written to be understood by [target audience] you inflict excruciating pain in my brain.
           I know.  Brains don't actually have pain receptors.  But, when watching [video of gravity tests in a testosterone-laden common-sense-free environment] I experience (real-to-me) empathetic groin pain and I feel a similar pain inside my skull when I watch you transmogrify [complex theorem or formula] to the level of SeeDickAndJaneRun.

          Because specifics are better than vague analogies:

          •  Tweedle Dee, aka Brian Richmond, The George Washington University (NOVA, Becoming Human minutes 2:28 thru 3:00) - his explanation of a few theories why quadrupedal protohumans became bipedal: "...they stood up to be able to see over tall grass...they stood to be able to pick fruits off of the low branches of trees...(or)...to cool more efficiently so that we don't have as much sun beating on so much of our body."
          •  Tweedle Dum, aka Daniel Leiberman, Harvard University (NOVA, Becoming Human minutes 3:00 thru 4:40) - his favorite opinion why quadrupedal protohumans became bipedal:  "...the most compelling hypothesis is that it saved us energy."

          These two idiots bruised my frontal lobes.  Their few seconds of Discovery Channel fame only proved one thing:  neither of them actually understands natural selection.

          In a muddled attempt at simplicity, this NOVA episode completely fails to explain natural selection and offers information as true, which is the exact opposite of the truth.  The show paints a picture that six million years ago, in the middle of protoAfrica (with the environment in flux and jungles becoming savannahs)...for reasons we can only guess at...a protochimpanzee stood on its hind legs and, subsequently, passed that ability to constantly walk upright to its progeny.

          The fiction—like that of so many television shows based on psudo- and/or fuzzy-science—is relating that the reason/desire to walk upright preceded our distant ancestor's ability to do so.  But when somebody from [prestigious place of higher learning] says, "they stood up in order to..." how can we interpret it otherwise?

          What actually happened?  How did a few of the little ancient monkeys who walked on four legs many millions of years ago eventually walk on only their two hind legs?  The same way every gradual evolutionary change occurred in every living entity since the beginning of life.  It happened by mistake.  Zillions upon Trillions of miniscule beneficial mistakes.  The same number (or more) of non-beneficial mistakes also (must've-probably) occurred, but any of those mistakes (those which don't improve their possessor's chance of procreation) are useless in evolutionary terms and lead to extinction. 

          One quadrupedal protohuman gave birth to a malformed baby with a slightly misshaped pelvis (I'll call her Miss Takè).  Her pelvis was a bit too flat, too horizontal...and all the quadrupedal kids at school teased little Takè because she wasn't very good at reindeer games; but she was able to survive long enough to procreate and pass along that genetic error because she was [reason for not dying...including being lucky].  She had a fifteenth cousin twice removed with a slightly bent thumb which made swinging from branches a little harder than normal, but she always won at thumb-war; and her imperceptibly encephalitic and slightly taller great-great-great grandson (who could never peek over a log without his forehead being seen when playing hide-n-seek) became a great hunter because of his above-average eyesight...and his eighteenth son from his fifteenth mate (who happened to be distantly related to thumb-war cousin) was taller-still but he happened to have less body hair, hated the winter, and walked a long distance in order to live in a warmer place...ad infinitum...modern man.

          South Park's Mrs Garrison's grasp of the theory of evolution is more accurate.  The fact that Trey Parker and Matt Stone are more capable than NOVA at explaining natural selection makes me giggle-cringe (but inflicts no pain in my gulliver).

original post: 2011

May IV's Mailbox

May IV's Mailbox  (4 May - Star Wars Day)

mailbox art series:
Santa Claus' Mailbox - 25 Dec (Christmas)
AULDLANGSYNE's Mailbox - 1 Jan (New Year's Day)
Sommerzeit's Mailbox - 8 Mar (Daylight Savings Time 2020 / 'Summertime' in German)
ÔSTARA's Mailbox - 19 Mar (Vernal Equinox / first day of Spring - northern hemisphere 2020)
Avril Poisson's Mailbox - 1 Apr (April Fools Day / April Fish in French)
St. George's Mailbox - 23 Apr (Feast of St George)
Serling's Mailbox - 11 May (Twilight Zone Day)


  image portion by Jamie Wheeler