Going Bananas on Mill Avenue

The yellow one was with the Justice League on Mill Avenue.
Here's of a shot of the big yellow guy making his presence known to Clif the Lawyer.

Clif the Lawyer likes a good time just as much as the next guy. But the banana just wouldn't leave him alone. Big Yellow actually caused Clif to miss a nice bus shot. But did Clif lose his cool? Heck no, Clif the Lawyer's got enough patience to be a doctor.

Here's the the banana with four runners warming up for the P.F. Chang's Marathon.

One of the girls shouted in a German accent, "HEY, WHY ARE YOU PHOTOGRAPHING A BANANA?"

To which I adeptly replied, "I, I DON'T HAVE THE SLIGHTEST IDEA!"

The big guy looms high above Mill Avenue in the high rise parking garage with Clif, Rick and Casey.

Here I am trying to get artsy with the banana and a windo reflection shot. Looks like I'm all about bananas and reflection shots.

The big banana didn' make it to the end of the shoot. I got hungry. There will be other bananas and other shoots.

SnYder CoMics #4

SnYder CoMics 2010


For years, the common No Checks sign in restaurants has compelled me to do a bad Steve Martin and Dan Akroyd wild and crazy guys imitation and make a scene similar to the one portrayed in my comic. It never gets old for me. As for my wife, it's another story...

The Arizona Justice League of Photograpers On Mill Avenue

The Arizona Justice League of Photographers recently ventured out to Mill Avenue in Tempe
From left to right are Rick the I.T. Guy, Casey the Chef, Clif the Lawyer and Yours Truly.

Mill Avenue runds along the Western side of Arizona State University. Lined with gorgeous ficus trees and dotted with coffee shops, book stores, restaurants, bars and funky curious characters, it's a fantastic place to take a few pictures on a crisp January morning. It's also a great place for a date. My wife and I took a cozy stroll along Mill Avenue on the night we met.

These two characters were kind enough snap a few pictures of our crew. They introduced themselves as Lucy and Ricky, a couple of wandering Bolivian billionaires. It's not every day you meet wandering Bolivian billionaires.

This is Mill Avenue's name sake, the Hayden Flour Mill. The structure is nearly a hundred years old and rumored to be haunted.

I tried to get artistic this time around.

Clif the Lawyer came up with the idea of climbing up to the top floor of a parking structure for some top of the world type shots. My acrophobia was in full swing.

Here's a reflection shot into a glass building. If you look closely you can see Clif and me snapping away from the top of the structure.

Here's your run of the mill girl with a cat on a leash and kid holding a sword with a cat on his shoulder. I asked him what the sword was for and he just laughed, scary like. I laughed too, as I walked away, real fast like.

No big deal - a picture of a guy standing in front of a phone booth talking on a cell phone.

How about a picture of a guy standing in front of a phone booth talking on a banana?

Yeah, that's what I thought...

Here's Clif the Lawyer under the lush cover ficus trees having a conversation with one of the Mill Avenue regulars.

Really don't know what to say about this head shop window photo. Just thought it looked kinda cool in an every little thing goanna be alright kinda way...

This bus obviously made it's destination. I'd like to know what the launch point was.

This is a shot of All Saint's Catholic Church across the street from ASU. Over a hundred years old, it's the oldest house of worship in greater metropolitan Phoenix

Here I am trying to be mister artistic photographer guy.

I thiught the light flashes between the orange tree leaves might make a good picture.

I know what you're thinking. Where the heck are the goof ball banana shots?

Next week, friends. Next week.

SnyDer coMic #3

Bloggers Can Help the Suffering People in Haiti

Go to Blogger Buzz. Put a 'Support The Haiti Disaster Relief Effort' widget on your blog, as I have done in my sidebar.

http://buzz.blogger.com/2010/01/support-haiti-disaster-relief.html

A Story from The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son

A story from The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son
“The Laughing Monks (1998)"
by W.Z Snyder
© 2006 William Snyder

The Laughing Monks
(Scottsdale, Arizona – 1998)

DART SAFETY AND THE PURPLE BIKINI WILL BE AVAILABLE IN A BOOK STORE IN THAILAND THIS NOVEMBER.
Check current postings to learn how to purchase a copy.

SnYder CoMic #2

2010 SnYder CoMic # 2




Peter Mayhew, the actor who played Chewbacca in Star Wars, was also an exceptional professional baseball player.
As a matter of fact, Peter was named Wookie of the Year.









There you have, SnYder CoMic #2.

While I sincerely doubt the newspapers will be beating down my door, I'm relatively confident that I topped SnYder CoMic #1. I thought about wowing you all with something really spectacular, but I realized that would until coming up with a spectacular comic. I did come up the pun. I'm not sure whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Moshing with Skeletal Secrets and a Couple of Cactus Shots

Hanging with Skeletal Secrets


A couple of weeks ago I took advantage of an opportunity to attend a Skeletal Secrets Concert. Above, I can be seen standing with former student band members Gabe and Nick. I'm the goofball in the middle. I still want to know what the hand signs mean.

Got to tell you, I'm not so old that I can't enjoy a little heavy metal music. As a matter of fact, I happen to know there are countless subcategories of metal music. You've got you basic death metal, speed metal and black metal. Skeletal Secrets is known across the greater Phoenix area as an operetic metal band. The lead singer, Chelsie, a current student of mine and a talented opera singer, handles the lead vocals.

I didn't realize they still had mosh pits. Obviously, I'm a little old for mosh pits. On the other hand, it's like Leroy Satchel Paige said, "When it comes to age, it's all mind over matter; it you don't mind, it don't matter."

It's been a little over two weeks and I almost have full range of motion back in my neck and I'm hardly limping at all, thank you.


Justice League Cactus Shots and a Window


These sans banana, cactus shots were taken on the last Arizona Justice League of Photographers adventure along the road between Canyon Lake and Tortilla Flat.

Something about the protrtuding nails intrigued me. I couldn't help wondering who drobve the nails into that saguaro. Why? When? Mysteries are good thing.

Here's a window shot taken in Tortilla Flat. All me to point out that it wasn't easy keeping that camera hogging giant banana out of these pictures.

SnYder CoMics

Watch for the newest SnYder CoMic this Sunday. Remember, I didn't want to set the bar to high with the first comic. I'm ready to get serious about the second panel. You people had better look out because I feel something big coming .

Wait, maybe it's gas...

SNYDER COMICS #1

I'm one of those new year's resolution guys. I actually spent hours cranking out a list of resolutions for the new year. One of my resolutions involves drawing a weekly comic.

It may not be much, but at least I'm covered for week one.




Happy New Year!

The Arizona Justice League of Photographers and the Banana go to Canyon Lake and Tortilla Flats

The amazing photographs on this posting are available for your viewing pleasure thanks to blogger, Kavita of India...

Armed with a tank full of gas and a few cameras and a fresh banana, the Arizona Justice League of Photographers headed East of metropolitan Phoenix to do their thing at Canyon Lake and Tortilla Flats.

Clif the Lawyer barely eludes a giant banana. You're reading the sign right - it does say 14 feet, 3 inches.

Clif the Lawyer gets up close and personal with a giant banana.

Former New Christy Minstrels singer, Eric the Photographer has no idea of what looms behind.

Too late...

When a banana's got to go, a banana's got to go.

The giant bananas are absolutely ubiquitous.

Clif the Lawyer, Eric the Photographer and Rick the IT guy exchange banter in the presense of the giant banana.

The banana shares a few stories and jokes with Clif and Eric.

Christmas 2009

It’s over?

I’m a lucky schlep. Family, kids, Christmas tree, fire in the hearth; it was all there.

I did a lot of wrapping. My wife scratched the records.

Bah dump bump…

Actually I spent about ten hours wrapping presents.

Speaking of rapping, I like to tell my students I was the best rapper in my old neighborhood in back in L.A. This was a time when guys like Ice Tea and Snoop Dog were just coming up. But I was the best of them all. Everybody knew I was the best because all of the mothers in the neighborhood brought their gifts to me. I was known for my tight bows and sick use of ribbons.

Bah dump bump…

I’m in the habit of making note of the quirky aspects of life. You want quirky? How does three and a half hours in a Target store sound? Yeah, I spent three and a half hours in a Target store.

It all began with fellow blogger, Kavita in India. She left a comment on my last blog pointing out that I could take my camera card to a photo shop and have the pictures transferred over to a disk. I’d been trying to figure out how to get the photos on my camera for a couple of weeks.

So I told my wife I was heading over to the photo department at Target. My wife came along to “pick up a few things.” Thanks to Kavita I had my pictures on the disk in 30 minutes.

However, my wife was just getting started; she was in the zone, casually browsing the aisles, stopping for discourse with a dozen or so friends and acquaintances. After two hours I had a seat at the food section and stared at my watch. I wondered if we’d hit two and half hours? No way would we make it to three hours I was excited, in a quirky kind of way, when my wife checked out at the three hour and 31 minute mark.

You don’t see that kind of thing every day.

Three and a half hours in Target, that’s pretty quirky.

Happy Holidays

The Justice League photos are coming.

The Arizona Justice League of Photographers, Canyon Lake

Question: How many teachers does it take to transfer 100 photos from a digital camera to a computer?

Answer: More than the number living in my house.

The Justice League of Photographers recently explored Canyon Lake and Tortilla Flats. I took close to 100 photos. Thanks to modern technology I can show you exactly one. Why just one photo? If I could answer the question, I could probably download the photos now couldn’t I?

I returned from the photo shoot raring to upload the photos. As you probably know, uploading is a simple process that entails connecting the camera to the computer with, catch this, a USB cord and clicking on the right places on the computer screen. That’s right; I know what a USB cord is. I clicked on the screen but nothing happened. Three hours of screwing around with the computer yielded me no pictures.

I decided to seek out the expertise of my coworkers. The next door teacher is a camera/computer aficionado; he immediately ascertained that my USB cord is a piece of junk. Using his top of the line USB cord, he expeditiously transferred the pictures to the, get this, K drive on my work computer. That’s right folks; I know what a k drive is Now that the pictures were on my k drive, all I had to do was email the folder to my home computer. Long story short - I get it; it’s a little late for a long story short - the email wouldn’t accept the whole file and I was only able to send one picture, one banana picture.

The next day I sought out a different camera/computer specialist. He told me I needed to buy a little ten dollar box. This box would hold my camera card and transfer pictures much more easily. Finally, a simple answer. I mean, what could be simpler than a ten dollar box?

On the way home I stopped at Radio Shack. I showed my camera to the 16 year-old clerk.

“I need the little ten dollar box for the picture card.”

OK, my description was far from eloquent but she seemed to know what I meant. Rolling her eyes, she snatched a package with the little box and rang me up.

“21.50.”

“I though these little boxes were ten bucks.”

“21.50.” she said coldly.

“Are you sure this little box will work on my computer?” I asked handing her my debit card.

“Just follow the directions.” she said handing me my receipt and box.

I thought about telling her that if her Radio Shack gig ever went south there was a Subway down the street where she’d fit right in.

I know this is hard to believe, but even with box, I was not able to successfully transfer the pictures from the camera to the computer. Although the kid wasn’t very happy to see me again, she took the box back and credited my card with the 21.50.

And so I have this Banana picture.

Steve McQueen, Research Papers and Ten Bucks

My mind has been turned to muck. This is the direct result of grading 100 four to six page research papers over the last ten days. I’m telling you I can’t take it any more. Come to think of it, I don’t have to take it any more – until next year.

Grading these papers has actually made me stupider. I know what you’re thinking; is stupider a word? Doesn’t the use of stupider, at the very least, reflect indicate bad grammar? Didn’t I just get done telling you that grading them research papers made me stupider than I was before?

Allow me to share a few examples of antiknowledge that lingers in the recesses of my brain as a result of reading these research papers:

The Woodstock Festival was held to protest the War of 1812.

The Vietnam War was fought between the United States and Korea.

Adolph Hitler and the Nazis were communists.

George Washington owned a Coca Cola bottling plant.

There were a few good papers but the truth is I put heckuva a lot more work into grading than my students put into writing the papers. The lack of effort was no surprise. This is the fourth year I’ve been assigning research papers to high school juniors. I used the word assigning because I sure as heck don’t appear to be teaching them anything.

A couple of years ago a student turned in a paper on thr influence of Elvis Presley on American culture. He wrote that Elvis was so angry over his daughter’s marriage to Michael Jackson that he refused to speak to her for two years. For the benefit of those who don’t follow American pop culture, the king of rock and roll died at least a decade before Lisa Marie’s marriage to Michael Jackson.

This year’s assignment called for the class to compare a post 1900 American movement to a pre 1900 American movement. Five students didn’t even respond to the prompt. Three students wrote papers advocating the legalization of marijuana, citing highly respected academic sources such as smokeit.com, hightimes.com, and 420.com.

I’ve got to ask, were the authors of the three smokeit.com papers high when I gave the assignment???

Did I mention that the papers were really bad? The average score is in the low 60s. Man, last night I had a dream about grading bad research papers.

I gave the unit by best shot. I’ll try some new approaches next year.

I'm guessing Steve McQueen never graded a research paper in his life. He was too busy driving fast cars, running around with hot chicks and beening the king of cool.

It's not like the only thing going on in my life has been bad research papers and antiknowledge. For example I found ten bucks in the street last week.

Hey, Buzz!

I'm beFrank and I approve this blog!



Bill (we call him, Buzz) was having some formatting trouble with his blog, so he gave me access to try and fix the problem.

I think things are back to relatively normal (an entirely over-rated concept, if you ask me) and I hope there is an increase in hits because I'm sort of guest posting.

Steve McQueen, Subway and Si Senor Restaurant

Adventures at Subway

I recently stopped in at a local Subway sandwich shop for lunch. I've been a Subway fan for years. Where else can a guy get a tasty halfway healthy lunch for three bucks? Nowhere, that's where. The shop was empty. A somber middle aged woman was beyond the counter to not greet me.

"Hello." I said.

She said absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, she pretty much gave me the stink eye. I could have walked out - but I was hungry.

I ordered a meatball sandwich on Italian herbs and cheese bread.

She opened her mouth to ask, "Toasted?"

"Please." I responded.

Removing the sandwich from the oven, she complied with my request to add lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, banana peppers, jalapenos, Chipolte Southwest sauce and light Parmesan cheese.

"Meal deal?" she asked, looking at me as if I had a swastica carved into my forehead.

"Just the sandwich."

"Two thirty-nine." she said.

I handed her three dollars and she dropped the change into my hand.

Another customer appeared behind me.

"Can I help you?" she said looking right through me.

I didn't get a can I help you.

"Hold on a minute." I said.

The woman looked at me, stink eye on maximum.

"Who owns this place?" I asked.

"I do."

"And you don't see fit to say thank you when a customer frequents your place?"

Nothing but major leaue stink eye.

"I tell you what, I'm never coming back here."

She smailed and said,"Thank you."

Is it just me?


Si Senor Restaurant

Si Senor is a quaint little Mexican joint in Chandler, Arizona where people never give anyone the stink eye. My wife, daughter and nephew work at this bastion of New Mexico style gastronomic ecstasy. My three yougest girls and I eat there every week.

The owner says it’s the habañero chili peppers that make the food so exceptional. An interesting side effect of the super chilis is beads of sweat cascading down my temples. With women, their noses seem to run. It's quirky cool to watch men dabbing their napkins to their brows and woman daintily wiping their noses with expressions of pure, brainless culinary bliss.

Meals come with chips and four salsas, the best of which, and the hottest, is the white. I’m due for a heavenly stuffed shredded beef sopapilla – in about an hour.

It’s good to have some thing to look forward to, something spectacular.

And no stink eyes.