The Gallery

[BULLYDOZER ART GALLERY, OPEN 24-7. (no smoking in the gallery) CHILDREN UNDER 40 MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY AN ADULT.]

 

Before we get into BullyDozer Art? Let's take a few detours.

Do you ever just get proud of your brain?  You know it just takes off and does it's thing without your help?  And it comes out great.?

So here we are in Vitamin Cottage. That's a health food store with groceries.  For those of you in California it's kind of like a poor man's Trader Joes.

So anyway?  We're in the store checking out.  It's been dry lately and at the last minute I'm thinking, "I should get some lip balm."

So I say it out loud. "You got any lip balm?"

I think I hear the clerk say, "There's bird seed right in front of you."

"Huh?"

I like to think for my age I've got a pretty open mind. I don't think everything uttered has to pass a logic test before it's launched.  But I'm getting nowhere with this puzzle.

"Huh?"

It turns out it's a hearing issue.

"That's Burts Bees (not bird seeds) right in front of you."

Most of you will recognize Burts Bees as a brand name for a variety of ointments including a LIP BALM.

"Thanks," as I pick my Burts Bees off the RACK. I'm placing it in my hand.

"Of course we have all kinds of them over here.  You want to take a look before I ring you up?"

"Yeah!"

So I'm finding this organic lemon-lime balm derived from HEMP? Why not! Live dangerously.

[relax DEA. I don't inhale.]

Well our economic status isn't such that I can go out and buy two lip balms "willy nilly" any time I want.

Decision time. 

"Well I think I'm going to go with the HEMP.  So just one thing left to do. I'm going to have to put BURT BACK ON THE RACK."

It just comes right out of some autonomic brain synapse and slides off my tongue.  And I am just SO amused with myself. Some around me are giggling, some groaning, and some just standing here with jaws unhinged. 

For the latter group? Think "Do you know the way to San Jose." Think Dionne Warwick. Think Angie Dickenson. (Don't tell Peggy. I've always been MADLY in love with Angie Dickenson.)

Well now that we have BurtBackontheRack, let's move on. You're killing me here?  You've never heard of Burt Bacharach? Plays the piano, all teeth, horrible voice? But somehow gets to Angie Dickenson before me?

Quite a few of you have been asking why I use so many ?????? marks in my postings? Well I'm TRYING to keep this a conversation.  And it's my observation? That's the inflection we use when we talk to each other.  Listen for it.

Now where were we?  Oh, yeah.  The BullyDozer Art Gallery is now open to the public. I always hate it when I'm in a museum or gallery and feel pressured to take in and absorb every piece of work on the wall in one standing.  So, in case you are of a common bent?  Or if you are just a person who knows what I'm talking about when I refer to the "Silver Bullet?"  I'm just going to dole out the BullyDozer series a couple of pieces at a time. It will give us all time to explore our own relationships with Heavy Equipment.

I hope, in the end, you'll decide I've given these magnificent "Earth Devouring" beasts their due.

I hope, like me, you'll begin to see their souls, their strengths, their weaknesses, their passions for dirt.

And hey, if I, or you get inspired to go another direction? Let's just go there. Maybe a BullyDozer will give us ride?  [THINK ABOUT IT.]

"Okay, Governor, go ahead and cut the ribbon!"

[Peggy just read this and says you should magnify the artwork for full effectiveness. Now she knows about Angie.]

What a View!

That's Pikes Peak back there. Katharine Lee Bates writes "America The Beautiful" up there in 1893. She, of course, is high on oxygen deprivation at the time.

For every bucket of dirt they haul out of our backyard?  We get to see another inch of Pike's Peak. I guess that's a good thing.

"I'm sorry, though, Katharine. We're going to have to lose that "amber waves of grain" riff."

"And sweetie? I think we're going to have to keep 'The Star Spangled Banner' as the national anthem?  Catchy tune though. Maybe you can get them to sing it during the 7th inning stretch?" 

"Alright you Bullydozers. Keep digging!  LET'S SEE SOME MOUNTAIN. WHAT DO YOU THINK WE'RE PAYING YOU FOR? MOVE IT!"

"Well, honey, when we sell?  Now we can finally say, 'MUSICALLY HISTORICAL MOUNTAIN VIEW!' "

"Come on ASCAP! You can't touch me on this one."

Fair and Balanced

I have to say it! There is always a "Silver Lining." In this case it's "Gold." Those fall Ash leaves look pretty good with dirt and a bullydozer for background. Of course the blue sky doesn't hurt. See, I can be fair and balanced.

Quit lookin'! There isn't any more, although I intend to do a series on BullyDozer art one of these days. Hang on for that!

Nap Time

It's Sunday, a day of rest for the BullyDozers.  It's so strange. Hardly at the same level of significance, but it brings back 9-11 to me.  My beat is the airport? When I get there I am in awe of the silence hanging over a normally bustling transportation hub. The very distant rumble of f-16s circling at 40 thousand feet just adds to the quieting shock. Something isn't right.

I can also remember standing in the middle of a major highway shut down during rush hour.  A sniper has been randomly shooting at traffic. I feel so eerily out of place. There should be traffic noise, not gunshots and concussion bombs.  

In both cases I want to WHISPER for no good reason.

So today there is no constant drone of heavy equipment on the hill behind me. The waves in my water glass have gone to calm. There is no wind carrying dust to attack my sinuses. All the dogs along the back fence are struck dumb.  Really, for the first time since they broke ground out here, I can clearly see what they've done.

Oh my! Can I see what they've done! I don't want to WHISPER. I WANT TO SHOUT.

Like the BullyDozers I'm going to take a break here. I want to let some thoughts gel. I hope you'll come back. It's not going to be nearly as dismal and forboding as I'm teasing it. I've just taken in a ton (hyperbole) of impressions and need to let them take form.  Kind of like building a highway, eh? Talk to you soon.

Well, I'm back.  I'm actually up on the hill noting a total absence of life.  I think that's what's getting to me.  Nothing is crawling, nothing is smelling, nothing is growing, nothing is breathing.

I can see some evidence of past life. There are weather formed stones of varying sizes popping up every once in while in the lifeless dirt. Something must have been going on here over time. Amid the shades of brown, gray and white, you can be left to imagine what lived here in other eons. ( They did find a wooly mamoth  or a mastodon in a construction site less than two miles from here.)

Actually you don't have to think back that far?

[SEE PICTURE TWO]

 Just two months ago I was looking up at an admittedly desert-like landscape.  There were lots of yuccas and scrubby pasture grass.  And there were rabbits, coyotes, cattle, a llama, an occasional antelope, joggers, kids exploring, sandlot golfers working on their drives, and lovers holding hands walking up to watch the sunset. 

Now? Nothing! This hill defines DEAD!

You know? I think I'm going to welcome the BullyDozers back. They are at least alive.  And maybe I can convince one of them to PLANT something, ANYTHING! Even a dandelion will do.

Whoa!

I can't believe I'm about to say this so I'm going to WHISPER it. "Even highway traffic will be an improvement over THIS! Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up."

Y'all Make Me Laugh

Using myself as the MEAN, the rest of you are pretty funny (odd). Here I am trying to be very careful with my fascination of the building of a major thoroughfare in my backyard?  I am journalistically savvy enough to know I must be careful not to get too technical. I know that unless you're my neighbor? You are not going to have the same level of attachment to the issues..

I'm also being pretty careful not to be provincial. I'm making a concerted effort to avoid the use of specific locations and names. That's so that if this is taking place in Houston (not), and you're reading about it in Portland (not)? You can still relate.

These are things I've been taught and practiced over a career.  But you know what? Y'all are making me tingle with wrongness. 

One of my students corners me on campus and says, "hey Paul, you know that construction in your backyard?"

"Uh, Huh!"

"Well my boyfriend was driving one of those scrapers, the ones you keep calling BullyDozers. He says a lot of people living there are mad because they get started so early in the morning.  He quit and has moved on."

OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

So that kills my planned tutorial on the various types of heavy equipment needed to flatten a mountain. I suppose you've all driven a SCRAPER, A BULLY DOZER, A BACKHOE, A TRACKHOE, A WATER TRUCK, ETAL, NAUSEUM.  

I'm thinking I'm pushing it when I tell you all about how I'm miffed at this county official that drives by and gives me a dirty look? The rest of you have your own dirty looks to deal with. Why care about mine?  And then my cousin Errol writes from San Diego and says , " I hope you deliver a copy of your Blog to that @$%#& with the county."

OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

Well I'm still being careful not to bring it too close to home. "Be universal, be generic," I say. And I'm slipping off into some other inanne subject matter? And I hear from my cousin Bill who lives in the San Francisco area.  ( I say San Francisco area because if I tell you exactly where he lives? You won't have heard of it.  That will be too provincial. You won't relate.) Well maybe you'd like to eavesdrop on my conversation with cousin Bill?

Remember I've switched subjects now.

"That's okay Paul.  But I'm more interested in the road behind your house.  How far is it from your bedroom?"

"15 feet from the guestbedroom, 30 feet from the master."

"Just don't have any guests.  Say is that the extension of Chambers Road project?"

"Uh, huh."

"Look on the bright side. It won't have as much traffic as I-25 which it will parallel."

"Uh, huh."

Before I hear this from somebody else? When it's done it will be a virtual speedway connecting Denver Bronco headquarters in Dove Valley with the new Reuter Hess reservoir under construction south of here.

If Bill Romanowski were still with the Broncos?  They'd shut the road down twice a week so he could get his bike training in. Then they'd shut the reservoir down so he could get his swim in, and other stuff ad nauseum.

All week long I have students coming up to me saying, "what's up with the construction project."  "Seen any BullyDozers lately." "With all that dust, does it affect your allergies," "When are they going to finish that road, Paul."

OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

What is wrong with your people?  Get a life!  I may be talking to BullyDozers in my backyard. But you are actually willingly reading about it WITH SOME INTEREST.  You guys are just weird. But, as we say a lot here along Chambers road between Bronco Headquarters and the Reuter-Hell Reservoir?

"I LOVE YA ANYWAY."

OR SOMETHING KIND OF LIKE THAT.

 

Buy Boardwalk! Go directly to jail.

This won't be the first time in media history THE TEASE has nothing to do with the actual story.  I just like the picture up there? And I'm tired of waiting to have it fit the topic of the day.  Although?  If I'm still any good at this at all?  I'm going to find some way to tie the picture to the story before I'm done.

So it should come as no surprise to us that the board game MONOPOLY has weathered the test of time in this country. That's because the Teeter Totter from "Oh, monopolies are okay, " to "monopolies are evil and everybody should go to jail" has weathered the test of time. You don't need to be very "long  in the tooth" to go through at least one of these cycles.

The nice thing about living in the U.S. of A. is that the "Teeter Totter" never bounces off the fulcrum.  You know why?  Because we are allowed to gripe up or down anytime we want.

So here's the deal.  Wal Mart is going to offer generic drugs at 4 dollars a month, per prescription?  At first glance I'm saying that must mean the pharmaceutical companies and the pharmacies have been robbing us blind. Or is Sam Walton's seeds just the Super Altruists they want us to believe they are?

Well Sam's Kids say it's just because they can buy in volume.  Uh, huh! Right! They'll be able to buy in even MORE volume when they drive all the other pharmacies out of business.  And when all the other guys are gone?  Will Sam's kids still give us our chemicals for 4 bucks a month?  Just askin'.

Now there is Starbucks.  A bunch of media outlets in Chicago get wind of that company's plans to increase the number of stores from 8,600 in the U.S. to TWENTY THOUSAND.  To paraphrase one Windy City Resident, " now I won't have to walk a whole block to get my fix."

You've got to give it to Starbucks.  In every market in the country you hear about them either buying out the competition?  Or driving that competition into bankruptcy. The odd situation in this case is Starbucks is not under-cutting the competition.  In fact you'd be hard pressed to find a coffee shop on the planet that charges more for caffeine than Starbucks. Whose fault will it be if Starbucks gets a spot on the Monopoly Board.  Our fault, your's and mine. Starbucks has made it too easy for us to not "shop around."

But back to the expansion.  How can they afford it...even if most of the operations will be franchised? Where will they possibly get the capital.  So....I'm sure you also heard today that Starbucks is announcing they are raising the price of a cup of java, etal, a nickel?  [ I'm guessing Starbucks has a few board members who work in the oil industry.] 

I'm getting into all this 'cause Peggy calls me from San Francisco about the WalMart news?  We haven't been terribly happy with the way one of our insurers antes up for drugs.  This news made Peggy both happy and mad.  She's happy our costs will going down...but suspicious that every employee of that insurance company drives at LEAST a BMW.

But what really set me off on this adventure? My good friend, and fellow OLD GUY, Gary Barkley...calls while I'm out riding my bike. He leaves a voice mail. [ Us 'old guys' don't text message.]He reports the Starbucks' price hike news? And then adds some commentary. "Paul, you and I know that used to be the full price of a cup of coffee.  A NICKEL!"

He's right, and it really wasn't THAT long ago.  And that did get me to thinkin' a little bit.  Do we think the cost of labor in Colombia or Kenya or Costa Rica has gone up as much as a cup of Starbucks Vente Latte?   Just askin'.

Maybe Grandma Bully-dozer will sink her teeth into this issue and see if she can't dig us up a little DIRT.

Whadda ya say Granny? Just askin'.

Wake Up Call

One of the benefits of doing something without a contract or pay? You don't have to feel terribly guilty if you are struck "DUMB" once in a while. (What? You thought I was getting a check for doing this?)

By the same token, it's good to be inspired back into action by someone like the guy in the picture above.  He is my NEW HERO.  Why? Well because he is not just out crankin' his wheel chair on some asphalt. He is hand motoring his little vehicle up the highest paved highway in North America.  At this "shutter second" he is at Twelve Thousand Ninety Feet in elevation.

Odd to me that when I first frame him up? Peggy is saying to me?

"Paul, don't shoot him.  You are going to embarrass him."

Peggy just hasn't done one of these so-called "handicapped" athlete stories. (In case you arn't aware of this? They call those of us with four working appendages "NORMIES.")  I still recall my ineptitude trying to keep up with a blind skier on a BLACK DIAMOND RUN at Winter Park.  I can still hear THAT ATHLETE'S gleeful laugh at leaving me behind in a cloud of snow.

Just look at the face of this guy.  (Note that his shadow is ahead of his two wheeled pal's shadow?) What you don't see because I was too slow to react? When he sees my lens? He throws his arms in the air in a sign of early victory.  Then to top that off? He leans forward and yanks that front of his chair back into this grand and ARTISTIC WHEELY.

There is no doubt in my mind he makes it the next two thousand elevation feet to the top. I'd follow him but the rest of THE ROAD TO THE TOP is now CLOSED FOR THE WINTER TO LAZY PEOPLE who need internal combustion engines to reach their peaks.

The one thing I regret right now?  I don't have his name.  Despite being in pretty good shape right now? I am too light headed to think to scream out, "HEY, WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" Fine journalist I've become.

Well, I need a replacement hero right now. The Broadcast Media loses one this week.  Many of you will not have known Dave Green.

I need to be very clear at this point. There are at least two Dave Greens in broadcast media I've always had great respect for.  They both consciously choose to forgo glory to make the work of other's shine.  The one I'm talking about now is Dave Green, Executive Producer of HDnet. He SADLY dies ofa heart attack at a much too young age.  I use the word SADLY, because had I taken my copy to Dave reading "he TRAGICALLY dies of a heart attack?"  Dave would say in a firm but gentle tone?

"Paul, the death of "Ghandi" is a tragedy. John Kennedy's death might fit the definition. But Robert Kennedy? Don't you think SAD is sufficient in DAVE GREEN'S case."

[I'd be a reluctant convert on that one. I'm still not sure where the line should be drawn? But I've heard way too many reporters and anchors suffer tragic despair over the passing of an un-named pet cat.]

To fill in the blanks for some of you? This Dave Green spends the first half of his adult life as a field producer and bureau chief for ABC. He is around in an era when stories are chased at any cost.  He tells my students of having one large carry-on every where he flys. In it? Cash! Tons of it! Money needed to make sure everything get's taken care of? 

And, sans cash, that's the skill and reputation  this Dave Green leaves behind. He always gets the "ball rolling" ( sorry about the cliche Dave) and keeps it "bouncing" until the "game is over." (Sorry about the corny metaphor Dave.)

At his memorial service? They are saying some wonderful things about Dave? I agree with them all and can't even begin to improve on them.  But I have a lasting memory I must throw into the mix.

While, as noted at his service, Dave has candy for everyone who enters his office? Yet his counsel is seldom sugar coated. But after having my copy spanked by Dave a few times?  I notice something I hope I'll always take with me.  He never tries to steal my story or my soul.  And when I walk out the door with doctored script in hand? EVERYBODY'S EGO IS INTACT. And we and the story are all better for the experience.

"DAVE! I don't know if the written word gets into the ETHER like broadcast signals?  I hope so 'cause I never got to tell you how impressed I was with that artful talent you pass on. So Dave, did I tell you about the shot I get of this guy churning his wheelchair up Mount Evans??"

"Name?"

"Dang. I didn't get it!"

"Call the Para Olympics.  They'll know his name!"

"Dang! Why didn't I think of that?"   

[Actually? His advice? Just shorthand! "Para Olympics." Then I could take my candy bar and pretend I thought of it. Nite Dave!]