I can’t stop dancin’

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We didn’t have a Corvair, but riding in the back of a ’58 Jeep pickup truck was every bit as exciting.

Yeah, I’m back again to provide your daily dose of nothingness. Here’s how things looked yesterday, starting with the weekly Decay Dance.

For whatever reason, I was motivated to photograph some of the family compounds we service with candy bags. This is our first stop.
Next stop.
And another stop.
At the entrance to Marian Hills, a neighborhood of small houses built as a US Navy volunteer project back in the 1980s.
Bata, bata, chocolata!
On the quiet streets of Marian Hills.
As usual, these three were waiting for us when we arrived.
That young lad was vigorously pumping the well handle to fill buckets of water for laundry day.
Life can be hard, but the locals always have a friendly smile to share when we pass.
A shanty on the hill.
Everyone loves the candy girl.
Another poor village.
Dispensing sweetness.
Over the river.
A simple, but adequate bamboo dwelling.
Stopping at a roadside stand for some banana bread.
I’ve always been curious about the story of this abandoned mansion on the riverside.
And finished with our Dance for the day.

When beer o’clock arrived, we were off to It Doesn’t Matter. We had the outdoor patio to ourselves and enjoyed the street views as we imbibed. Then it was on to Queen Victoria for our nightcap.

The view from our seat at Queen Vic.

And that’s how I made it through another day without biting any dust.

I’m hoping for a Rubio-Vance ticket in 2028.

From the LTG November 2019 archives, I recount the tale of my 75th Hash run, where the Philippine Navy detained our group for trespassing on a Navy base. Um, we were just following the Hash trail, and there were no fences or no-trespassing signs. The Navy’s response was “we should have known better.” All these years later, we still give the Hares (Leech My Nuggets and Anal Receptive) shit about it.

Today’s YouTube video is another of those AI-rendered journeys to the past; this time, 1956. It is accompanied by a very nice song, which makes the six minutes go by easily. I was alive in ’56, but still in infancy. Even so, the lack of people smoking and everyone being dressed in formal style is a dead giveaway. Where are the working-class families like my mom and dad?

Here I go with this crap again:

Nothing like a poke and a prod for encouragement.
Did you order the stool pigeon?
What glasses? I don’t see any glasses.

And now I’ve done my duty for the day. Hope you enjoyed today’s glimpse into my life in paradise. Such as it is.

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