Sunday, February 27, 2011

Barbed Wire and Testicles Don't Mix

Catchy title, no?  I thought of it today while I was straddling the top strand of a barbed wire fence while walking in the woods with my dog.  Luckily, there was no mixing. 

Belle and I got a good walk in this morning.  I took some hawk pictures I'm fairly happy with (forthcoming) and Belle got to visit one of her vast pieces of territory that doesn't lie within the confines of our neighborhood.  I also availed myself of my parents' kitchen in their absence and made a bacon and apple butter sandwich.

I also entitled this entry This Flea Market Might Actually HAVE Fleas.  Here's why:
When I was a kid, the Pevely Flea Market was a magical place where a kid could score piles of old comics at the standard 25 cents each or 5/$1.00 price.  Many a summer Sunday saw me pile into the car with my brother, my mom, and Grandma Schwent.  I'd go in armed with ten bucks and return with a stack of comics and entertainment for a week's worth of lazy summer afternoons.

The decline of the Pevely Flea Market started when they erected a building in the center.  Instead  of being a communal yard sale where people could ditch things cluttering their basement, the Flea Market suddenly became a place where people were trying to actually make money.  It has been in a state of decay ever since.

Yesterday, I had some time to kill and visited it.  Apart from the accursed buildings, it was a ghost town.  I entered the buildings and it immediately reminded me of Bartertown from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome.   Gone were all the deals, replaced by bottom feeders trying to sell used DVDs for fifteen bucks.  Sadly, Tina Turner was nowhere to be seen.

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