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Trip To Marineville

…aaah, the seventies…

…when it was ok to keep seals in your back yard…

Scan 276

….mainly for the eggs….

….and sometimes in colour….

Scan 277

…formal dress optional…

Scan 278

…and, I’m sorry sir, this is a non -smoking good time….

Scan 279

 

….aaah, simpler times when we all lived on a mystical island in the middle of a kid’s paddle boat pond…

 

Scan 275

 

 

 

….(found these in a record sleeve…holiday snaps from Napier’s Marine land in New Zealand…circa 1972…read this article once about a second hand record dealer that found all sorts of cool stuff in record sleeves…like money, joints and tabs of LSD….all I get is pictures of seals….

 

 

…F.Y.I…photographs from the 70s taste of old cardboard & don’t even make you a little bit dizzy).

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9 responses to “Trip To Marineville

  1. I don’t even care how many points I may lose in regards to manliness, that’s just freaking cute.

  2. I like those odds… but I’m terrible with mathematical statistics. Come to think of it, I don’t even know why I made the statement to begin with. Probably all the acid.
    -&-
    Politically Incorrect? Look, I do not gauge the level of cuteness that a circa 1970’s seal may or may not exude in an old, cardboard-tasting photograph based on any relative level of humane or inhumane treatment or mistreatment that said seal may or may not apparently have been obviously subjected to,

    …and I used to work in contract law so I have a hard time shaking the jargon sometimes… Especially on acid.

    But hey, look on the bright side: those seals may have clearly been doomed to a life of senseless incarceration in a lame, makeshift shanty saturated with lead-based paint and forced to wear a foolish little sailor suit comprised of asbestos and gonorrhea, but at least they didn’t club it to death as a baby. I mean, why let this poor little bastard have existed purely in vain?
    If we just change our perspective slightly upon gazing at that old photograph, given the circumstances bestowed upon us from that dismally unchangeable history (as such it stands now), we can choose to focus on the cuteness of the being (however much humiliation it was likely plagued with daily; it was almost surely molested, at least, twice-that nightly by peyote-popping hobo-hippies who’re heinously hellbent on slowly slipping slightly seals the old “sloppy face-flop-slider BIG-skipper-upperlipper-hip-gripper-DIPPER” as seen on softcore hotdog newborn porn.
    Haphazard hookers heavily adorned with hardcore popcorn-butter scorn, and all the while the stale pale light of a sickly feverish moon pathetically hanging with relentless defeat from its just-too-loose-noose soon to lay splayed out, decaying within the stifling stench of a sewer wench while the neverending despair conquers the remaining rotting roots of a slimy cesspool of a sordid soul.
    Or, on the other hand, you can choose to gloomly stew and fume ’til you spew a plume of indignation and a slew of irate hate towards such a third-rate fate some sorry simple soulless ingrate shipmate placed on that innocent water-beast of nature.

    But alas, it seems that many people these days, here in America, anyway, confuse what I’m attempting to say with sticking their heads in the sand. I’m not saying to ignore the facts, just keep the focus in check. Then if you must, kick some ass, ask the while realizing that the photograph is tragedy, but gosh darn it, what a cute seal!
    Oh well, guess my point is lost.

    Actually, I lost track of what I was trying to say way back there. Then I just started rhyming.

    Let this serve as a warning, kiddies.
    Don’t do drugs.
    Not without me.

    Anyway, in conclusion, I was talking, I believe, about political correctness.

    And all I gotta say is:
    … . . . . .
    “It doesn’t matter what I say
    so long as I sing with inflection
    That makes you feel that I’ll convey
    Some inner truth of vast reflection,

    But I’ve said nothing so far
    And I can keep it up for as long as it takes,
    and it don’t matter who you are
    If I’m doing my job,
    it’s your resolve that breaks

    Because the hook brings you back
    I ain’t tellin’ you no lie
    The hook brings you back
    on that you can rely.

    There is something a miss
    I am being insincere
    in fact I don’t mean any of this
    Still my confession draws you near.

    To confuse the issue I refer
    Familiar heroes from long ago
    No matter how much Peter loved her,
    What made the Pan refuse to grow?

    Was the Hook brings you back
    I ain’t telling you no lie
    The hook brings you back
    On that you can rely.

    Suck it in, suck it in, suck it in
    If you’re Rin Tin-Tin or Anne Boleyn,
    Make a desperate move or else you’ll win and then begin to see
    What you’re doing to me this MTV is not for free,
    IT’S SO P.C. IT’S KILLING ME
    So desperately I sing to thee of love,

    Sure also rage and hate and pain and fear of self
    And I can’t keep these feelings on the shelf,
    I’ve tried well no in fact I lied,
    Could be financial suicide but I’ve got too much pride inside,

    To hide or slide I’ll do as I’ll decide and let it ride until I’ve died
    And only then shall I abide this tide
    Of catchy little tunes of hip three minute ditties
    I wanna bust all of your balloons
    I wanna burn all of your cities

    To the ground, I’ve found I will not mess around
    Unless I play then HEY I will go on all day and hear what I say
    I have a prayer to pray that’s really all this was
    When I’m feeling stuck and need a buck I don’t rely on luck

    Because the hook brings you back
    And I ain’t telling you no lie
    The hook
    On that you can rely.”

    • …your post today reminded me to swing back and read this…wow….keep eating the photographic cardboard, my friend, love your work!….(and draw more cartoons)….

      • Indeed.
        … . . . . . . .
        haha! Actually, I’m working on animation now, but once I get caught up on some stuff, I’m gonna be resume the CANDY TRiP comic Strip, as it tons parallel to the animated series.
        I’ll start making some noise about it on the blog pretty soon.

      • ..awesome…will keep some photographic cardboard to one side win anticipation….: ) T

      • Just noticed I forgot to attribute proper credit for the quoted song lyrics at the end of that manic comment. So…
        For any of those poor souls who may not be in-the-know, this song (featuring the harmony-heavy viper-jive of the harmonica-hyper ‘vibe-piper’, John Popper) is as follows:
        – “Hook”, by Blues Traveler
        Album: ‘Four’
        Definitely tops my list of favorite songs, EVER.

        Oh, and also, the statement I made, “…as seen on softcore hotdog newborn porn,” was written in an erroneous order, which renders it practically senseless.
        It was supposed to be:
        “…as seen on softcore newborn hotdog porn.”
        Whew… Glad I caught that!

  3. Went to an underground cave attraction on Tuesday… the lake in the cave is stocked with Rainbow Trout. The trout have to be fed daily because there are absolutely no nutrients in the cave lake. I dunno. It made me sad. They were being “cared” for but not being allowed to live their natural life.
    Of course, I had a hamburger for lunch so really my words don’t mean nuttin.

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