Houston, we have a problem...Life on Mars looks eerily familiar.

This is an attempt to delay the inevitable. I'm sitting here, staring blankly at my computer screen, futilely trying to get my brain to produce a paper on the social, political, and economic implications of the changing face of everyday life, caused by the Industrial Revolution, which were manifested in a palpable manner by the accoutrements made readily available by the advent of such places as the Bon Marche in Paris. I knooow, I'm hoping that while I'm writing this, it will write itself during the interim. I've tried snapping my fingers like Mary Poppins, but, unfortunately, all that I've discovered is that I am more coordinationally challenged than I thought. So, I have already been into photoshop, cleaning out some stuff, reorganizing folders, stuff such as that, and I came across this picture. A few weeks ago, on the way home from taking some other photos, I happened to ride by a Civil War re-enactment. Now, I know that sounds so redneck-Southern, but it really was pretty cool. I generally try to avoid anything that would make it seem like I need to rub aloe-vera on the back of my neck, but I had to stop. I mean, come on, they dragged a cannon into the middle of town, you have to admire that level of devotion to detail.
I was walking around, waiting until the re-enactors were in conversation with each other, or absorbed in something else, so that I could snap a more natural looking photo, when I think I nearly died of a coronary ("Elizabeth, I'm coming to join you," (If you don't get it, you need to watch more re-runs of 'Sanford and Son.')). I knew they had a cannon, I just didn't realize they were going to use a cannon. In the middle of town, I might add. I had my back turned when they shot the stupid thing off, so I had no idea it was coming. I honestly think I came three feet off the ground, and I am fervently hoping I didn't inadvertently educate any of the small children standing nearby on some of the finer points of the English language; unfortunately I don't remember very clearly. Apparently, there was a general penchant shared among the men for shooting this thing off; once wasn't good enough, only three times would suffice. All I could think about was when the Grinch, in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," describing the festivities down in Who-ville, petulantly complains about all the "...noise, Noise, NOISE!" (The Grinch and I could have gotten along just fine, even when his heart was however many sizes too small.)

I didn't sing any of the hymns in church the next day (yes, I did go to church after that little episode; I had to make up for what I may have said, didn't I?), as I could hear nothing except a maddeningly persistent ringing in my left ear. My singing is mediocre at best, half deaf I think they would have politely asked me to leave. Anyway, I posted this one because this particular man's face was just so expressive. It had that, not really tragic, not exactly haunted, but some elusive quality that was perfect for this type of photo. (Click on it, and look at it in full screen, and you'll see what I mean. Look especially at his eyes. I think I freaked this poor guy out a little, because I kept following him around and sticking a camera in his face.) So, despite the near-death experience, it was actually rather fun.

Alright, I believe I am going to have to resign myself to Spanish-Inquisition-style-torturing my brain and go ahead and write that paper. If it is good enough, maybe I'll post that next time. (Not really. If I don't want to have to write it, I know you all won't want to read it.)