Fast Food Movies

Francis Ford Coppola

Francis Ford Coppola: You as a person, you may not realize it – though I’m sure you do realize it – but there’s a lot of money being spent on you liking a certain kind of potato chip that you can’t stop eating or a certain kind of fast food. But the same thing is being done with movies. They’re teaching you that in the first few minutes, you have to know who the protagonist is and who the antagonist is very clearly. In other words, you are being given the formula of what a movie is so that when you then go to the movie that is the same as when you eat at a McDonald’s. You’re eating something isn’t particularly nutritious for you, but it satisfies what you have been taught to expect. And that’s the same thing the movie industry does, which is why they love sequels over and over again, because you are become their perfect audience.

So when you see a movie that doesn’t do that, you say, “What the hell is that?” Even if it’s interesting and engaging. You don’t know what it is because you’ve been taught that it should be something else. That’s my personal theory.

Travels With A Shortbed

At The Cabin


This is a simple series of photos that all include my dads Ford shortbed truck. When he passed away in 2024 the truck came to me, and I decided to snap some photos of it here and there with one of his cameras. This turned into a tribute of sorts to my dad, who loved photography and traveling, among many other things.

Bugs, A Heron and A Month Of Rain




Photos: Flowers from our acreage. Daylilies above, Stellas below.


The process of evapotranspiration can cause an average acre of corn to transpire up to 4,000 gallons of water a day. There are around 23 million acres of cropland in Iowa. It was VERY humid here during July.

This season saw lots of milkweed and flowers on our acreage, but few butterflies. There seemed to be plenty of crickets, and it was so humid during early August that sometimes at night water would drip from the roof of the machine shed, in harmony with their chirping. There were plenty of moths again this year, flitting around the yard lights at night during July and August, casting oversized shadows on the grass below. During mid to late August the fireflies disappeared, to be replaced by the grasshoppers again. This replacement almost always happens the same time each year, as does the disappearance of most all of the birds on our acreage. Some of the birds reappeared during late September. During mid-September the moths started to die inside our machine shed under the florescent light that hangs over the workbench. They are unable to fly anymore, walk in circles (counterclockwise) lay on their backs for awhile, then try to walk again. The next day that small group are usually all dead, while a new batch begins to walk in circles among them. And so autumn comes creeping in before the trees start to turn.

The toads were sneaking into our garage and staying overnight sometimes. We wondered if they were going for our pets large water bowl when it was dry outside. We were visited by a heron at the end of our lane standing in a water puddle for a few minutes during a mid summer rain. Dice and Sammy (our dog and cat) are still best buds.

The corn and soybeans started turning at end of August, and now look ready for harvest, once the fields dry out. This was one of the wettest Septembers in the Iowa record books. The garden was so-so again, with some things thriving and others struggling. I am thinking of tilling a new patch next year, so the old garden can rest awhile.

Trip Tales

During a recent visit to my hometown (the capital of Iowa) I pulled into a parking lot to check my phone and laptop. While I was bent over into the passenger doorway looking at the laptop a city bus stopped and two passengers stepped out, around 50 feet from me. I began to notice a few moments later someone hollering, “Hey, O.G.! Hey, O.G.! Hey, O.G.!” This was repeated multiple times, with a short pause in between.

I finished with the laptop, shut the passenger door to my van and rounded the vehicle to get in. It was then I saw that the incessant yelling was coming from one of the former bus riders, and he was staring right at me, continuing with the same phrase. I stopped and stared back. He then asked, “You got a cigarette?” At that moment I realized all of that noise, for maybe two minutes straight, had been directed entirely at me. A lady standing beside him was gazing into her phone. I said, “No, I don’t smoke.” He said, “Good for you.” Then the couple half turned and began slowly walking away along the sidewalk, speaking quietly among themselves, as if I had never been there.

What’s the point of this little story? There isn’t one, really. I just wonder what would possess a man to stand in one spot for that long, hollering the same phrase repeatedly at a complete stranger? We were not at a sporting event together, or a concert, or a protest. He just stepped off of the bus and presented his rudeness to the first chump he saw.

Jump In And Scramble Through

Sydney Smith

A great deal of talent is lost to the world for the want of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves a number of obscure men who have only remained obscure because their timidity has prevented them from making a first effort; and who, if they could only have been induced to begin, would in all probability have gone great lengths in the career of fame. The fact is, that in order to do anything in this world worth doing, we must not stand shivering on the bank, and thinking of the cold and the danger, but jump in and scramble through as well as we can.

Sydney Smith (1771 – 1845)

The Roundup

Encounters: I was visiting with a neighbor recently about working on various projects over this summer, and how some had not turned out so well. At one point he commented with a smile, “Yep, cut three times and still too short.”

Read: Take The Next Exit, Edited By Robert F. Sayre. This book is a sequel to Take This Exit, which I have not read yet. The one I have read is a delight, full of articles and essays about the people of Iowa and the places they live and the landscape that surrounds them. From the introduction: “The good traveler in Iowa should expect the best in all things, and this book is intended to help the traveler look for it.”

Observed: A cicada crawling out of its shell. I have seen plenty of empty shells over the years, and live cicadas flying about, but that was a first.

Website: www.grannybasketball.com

Recipe: My wife recently bought some tortellini shells on sale, which prompted me to look up our Chicken Tortellini Soup recipe. Now I know what to do with that chicken breast that has been bumping around our freezer for the last few months.

After the Gold Rush

This is one of my favorite Neil Young songs, played slow and sung tenderly. I don’t know what it means. It’s just a dream/song that I hum along to.

Well, I dreamed I saw the knights
In armor coming
Saying something about a queen
There were peasants singing and
Drummers drumming
And the archer split the tree

There was a fanfare blowing
To the sun
That was floating on the breeze
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the 1970s
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the 1970s

I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst through the sky
There was a band playing in my head
And I felt like getting high

I was thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie
Thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie

Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Spaceships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones

All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun
Flying Mother Nature’s
Silver seed to a new home in the sun
Flying Mother Nature’s
Silver seed to a new home

Written by: Neil Young

Released: 1970

Travels With A Shortbed

By The Little Shack

This is a simple series of photos that all include my dads Ford shortbed truck. When he passed away in 2024 the truck came to me, and I decided to snap some photos of it here and there with one of his cameras. This turned into a tribute of sorts to my dad, who loved photography and traveling, among many other things.