DON'T LET THEM BLAME THE VICTIM

    
     Getting screwed by a company is one thing. Catching them at it and letting them know you’re wise to what they just did raises the stakes. Once caught, look out, because here comes one of those underhanded curveballs. Don't you just love it when they screw you blind and then turn on a dime and blame you when you catch them in the act. That's grounds for justifiable homicide. When you tell them that you know what they're up to, they hate you for it. Don't ever let them get away with blaming the victim; it's the oldest trick in the book.

     My method for getting back at the bastards, since murder is considered illegal in many of our states, is to inform them that I will spend the rest of my life letting the world know about their poor behavior. I will dedicate whatever time I have left on this earth to putting them out of business. It will be my sole reason for living, my only motivation. "So you see, sir, what you did to me will prove to be pennywise and dollar foolish. Are you sure you do not wish to reconsider and pay me the $1.29 you and I both know you owe me?" And since they're not sure whether you're out of your mind or dead serious, they usually come to their senses rather than risk the unknown.

February 8, 2010

WE'RE ALL JUST RENTERS IN THIS WORLD

     Have you noticed that people who own land feel very strongly about their ownership? They build fences around their property and put up "NO TRESPASSING" signs on some of the trees that form the perimeter of their possession. "KEEP OUT!" gets nailed up quite a bit, as well, along with "PRIVATE PROPERTY" and "BEWARE OF DOG." Friendly chaps, these land owners. Of course, the bigger the piece of ground they own, the more Conservative the owners are likely to be. Thinking you own something turns people into Conservatives in a big hurry.

     Since I am a photographer of old barns and other such wonderful architectural antiquities, I am repeatedly faced with the dilemma of whether to cross the line on to somebody's property in order to get the picture. In days gone by I used to dutifully knock on the landowner's door and ask him whether I could take some pictures of his barn. But I quickly learned that anyone with a camera was deemed to be highly suspicious and untrustworthy. And the more I explained why I wanted to take such a picture, the less likely I was to obtain the permission I sought. "Well, you see, sir, the barn is particularly aesthetic; it has an exquisite combination of form and color that seems to glow as if with a soul or spirit, if you know what I mean." At that point I was invited to leave at once or the proverbial sheriff would be called. And so now I've come to no longer respect so called "property rights," and I simply walk on to the land surrounding the old farm buildings in the name of art——–with the hope that while I shoot my pictures the land owner will not do some shooting of his own and ask questions later.

     Of course, it's out West where the big shots, you know, the ranchers, really take their right of ownership to heart. They get pretty nasty when you step over the old barbed wire. I had one particularly notable run in with a well known rancher/politician out in Wyoming. This character owned more land in one contiguous piece than there is in some entire countries. And he had no sense of humor about his land. "What the hell do you think you're doing walking on my land? This is my land, and you better get your ass off of here or I'll blow your butt full of buckshot." Charming fellow, I thought; filled with love for his fellow human beings. And what a delightful humorist. "Shut up, you asshole," I said. "You don't own this land anymore than I do. We're all renters in this world. Get it? Short-term tenants and nothing more. Trouble is, some of us do irreparable harm to the land during our brief tenancy." He looked at me with a hatred I'd never before encountered.

February 8, 2010