Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Vocal Patron Of The Arts
Nighttime. Warm. A great opportunity to take out my camera and tripod and do some time exposures. Interesting effects with the shutter held open for seconds.
A big pick-up truck approaches as I stand on the sidewalk, minding my own business. Someone in the truck yells as it speeds by:
“You f***ing a**hole! Go back home with that camera!”
That’s what I like about Plattsburgh, NY. So many cultured people.
No ignorant rednecks. You know the ilk, sloped forehead and crossed eyes, the result of inbreeding for ten generations, first cousins only.
People who live to fart, not for art.