That's just a taste.
I was hangin with the fam in Lyons, KS at some art fair-mabobber, looking at wire earrings and kittens, and having Episcopal, Presbyterian, and Methodist churchgoers flinging pamphlets in my hands for pancake breakfasts and car shows. Also, there was a car show in Lyons. Mmmmm, the smell of grilled burgers!
The art fair consisted of stands set up around the park or square where the Rice County Courthouse rests. We walked around the park, got hounded by solicitors, saw some pretty exquisite hand-made goods, and yes, there was an animal shelter collecting signatures for God-knows-what, and they happened to bring some animals from the shelter with them to help pull you in.
After walking the square, we hopped in the truck to get us something to eat. Nothing seemed to satisfy us in Lyons, so we drove to Great Bend our next destination for lunch. There, we spotted a Pizza Hut. It was 20 minutes after 12.
My dad was craving pizza buffet. I glanced at the buffet, and saw the pizza was a tad leathery, meaning it had sat out and gotten a tan from the heat lamps. Out of defiance probably in my dad's eyes, I stated I wasn't touching anything on that buffet until they at least put out 2 fresh pizzas. The reason why I say defiance is my dad just took that statement as another moment my stubbornness was aggravating him, so I continued to voice my observations of this buffet. The pizza was shit! That whole buffet was bullshit! Like, all these god damned beasts had shoveled pasta on their plates and left that quivering corner of noodles to harden, and the sauces to go with the pasta were collecting grease deposits on the surface, which could've been stirred-in, and while we're on subjects of detest, I also am not going to allow you to inject me with the plague, no less fill my stomach with this horse shit. The dessert pizza was a horror-show, it by far had lasted the longest in the trenches. I told my family they aren't keeping the buffet stocked, and we're not paying for 4 buffets and drinks and settling on this bone-yard of a buffet. So yeah, I was objecting this whole notion we were paying for that buffet.
My mom happened to suggest we order from the menu. My dad was cool with that. We ordered our 9 dollars in carbonated beverages, and ordered a stuffed crust pizza. Whereas, I figured due to the exemplary service bestowed on the buffet, we'd be sipping our soda, drinking our lunch while we waited and waited for our pizza to arrive burnt. In fact, our waitress came carrying it in after we had waited twenty minutes. And in this time my family and I had observed a hamburger pepperoni pizza and a cheese pizza replenish the buffet, and once those landed, the vultures swooped in, and I wasn't dealing with that, I foresaw this occurring, and funk that jive, we're ordering. When the pizza came, it was great, and looked ten times better than what was on the buffet. Also they had run out of lettuce on the salad bar.
After my dad opted out of tipping our waitress, we were no longer welcome, so we hightailed it out of there, and bumbled along US 56 towards Great Bend. Here's what we saw at the hangar, Great Bend airfield:
These planes were all sort of in the same area of one another, so I was swiveling around, snapping shots.
Six and a half Swastikas, from Nazi-Richard Roeper, for the movie, "Midnight in Paris".
How do you get half a Swastika? Did the pilot graze the German plane, and it sputtered toward land, but he never saw an explosion, so one half Swastika for scrapping the plane, but not the German pilot who might've survived the crash? I'm just rambling off a possible scenario, I have no clue why the pilot of this war-bird didn't get the full credit on his 7th-kill.
Snoopy would've ejected from his P-51, letting it careen in to an enemy-fighter, 6th-kill, parachuting down to the wreckage of the Nazi-pilot. He would've climbed on-board the left wing of the fighter, opened her cockpit, and slit the throat of the groggy pilot fighting unconsciousness to be rewarded the full 7th kill. Beagles play for keeps!
"I said Republican-Presidential nominee Mitt Romney used bronzer on his face and top part of his arms to darken his complexion probably a day or so before he spoke in front of a group of potential Hispanic voters."
"When you say Mitt Romney do you mean George Hamilton; I be's confused!"
See what I did there? The guy in the neon green is talking, his conversation is in the neon green letters. The lady between the two guys is in a light grey with her conversation. The man in the glasses and charcoal shirt, his conversation happens to be in a darker grey than the woman's. The man in the glasses looks discomposed.
Now to hear some planes!
Old son of a bitch.
Stay tuned, folks, there's more to come.
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