I know you’ve been a bit busy, what with your challenging journey, so you may not have had time to notice the little hints I’ve been sprinkling among my posts for the last few weeks. Earlier this year you asked me if I could, and I said that I would, and I did it just for you. I realize it’s not much, but I hope that it’s a little bit of enough. And in response to your latest blog post, THIS is what my prayers look like.
Okay, now that we’ve got the mushy part out of the way (even though I meant every word), let’s have a bit of a lark as we stroll through your village…
This is theoretically the Money Shot, but as you can see by the poor composition, there really wasn’t much money in the budget. I was dealing with a limited amount of real estate compared to prior years, so things seem a bit cramped. On the plus side, the glass doors of my partner’s mother’s Mid-Century Modern china cabinet proffers a nice reflection that makes the village seem bigger than it really is. On the not-so-plus side, the neighbor’s overpowering retro street lamp outside the window makes it seem like I live in the Yorkshire moors. Perhaps Heathcliff is out there, waiting to whisk me away. Probably not.
This is a zoom-in of the crappy Money Shot. It’s essentially the same thing, minus the china cabinet and Heathcliff, but I thought it important that we should be aware that Santa, center, seems to be stalking someone who lives in one of the limited-edition reproductions of the houses from “A Christmas Story”. This sort of puts a darker spin on his love for children, yes?
This is an aerial shot of the Restaurant District, although how this photo was taken I don’t really know. The village hasn’t owned a helicopter since the town council was rocked by a scandal in 1997, when Mayor Trump colluded with a Russian prostitute named Putina, emptying the town coffers to build a wall that nobody with any sense wanted to build. Still and all, what else says “America” like dining establishments that feature doughnuts, Mexican food, and the Golden Arches?
This is a snap of the Theatre District. Notice that we only have a total of four citizens taking advantage of the cultural offerings, and two of them seem to be escaping to another part of town. Perhaps this explains why the wrong people get elected in the country. Or maybe it’s the doughnuts. We may never know.
And here we have the local radio station, WXMS. Naturally, said station has been taken over by a behemoth, multi-national conglomerate, whose board of directors doesn’t know quality from a hole in the ground. But at least the quaint architecture of the building reminds us of a time when radio stations were actually invested in music and not forced to endlessly promote the vapid nothingness of “artists” manufactured by a focus-group committee. (Trivia: Did you know that radio and TV stations east of the Mississippi River have call letters that begin with “W”, and stations west of the Mississippi have call letters that begin with “K”? True story, swear.)
This is the “Little Italy” section of Bonnywood Village. It’s not immediately obvious that such is the case, and that’s the way the Mafia would like to keep it. Don’t ask, don’t tell, and if you see something you shouldn’t have, just keep walking and pay your bills on time. It’s all good. (And let’s not have any claims of ethnic-profiling from the viewing audience. I’m Italian, so I get a bit of a pass. Embrace and celebrate what you are, right? Or something like that.)
Another perspective, one that is somewhat unnecessary, but at least it shows our Christmas Tree in the background. Be sure to get a good gander of such before the cats lose their minds and rip it to shreds. Because you know that’s going to happen, especially if they don’t get their kibble at the precise second they feel it should be delivered.
Another aerial shot, courtesy of the mysterious helicopter funded by unknown corporate sponsors. If you look closely, you can see the battery-pack parked behind Rosita’s Cantina. This clearly destroys the illusion of the Village, especially since said battery pack is powering the blinking Christmas trees on either side of Rosita’s, trees which refused to blink on cue every time I tried to take this photo. I really need to speak to my casting director about her poor choices.
I’m just winging it now, with yet another random shot. Please ignore what looks like the beginnings of a conflagration in the upper right of the shot that could easily destroy the town. I’m sure it’s nothing. Unless that’s a reflection of the single power strip where I plugged in all 700 houses in the Village. Then we might have an issue.
A mobile home on the outskirts of town. I think this says it all about the Christmas spirit. We hope, we carry on, and we make the best of what we have. Even if all of our letters don’t light up…