Had another run in with the Biebers. Realized last Wednesday one of the more aggressive javelinas who is visiting our abode, looking for free food, is pushing open my studio door with his snout. The big oak door has a defective latch and if not closed completely can be pushed open. I came out Wednesday morning and my studio door was wide open. Didn't notice anything out of place, but before I went to work I made sure I closed the door with an extra pull, hearing the latch catch. Came out on Friday morning and the door was closed tight, but noticed there were tiny hoof prints around the chicken food bags I had stored in the back, under a desk. But it didn't make any sense because both doors, front and back, were shut tight. The next day, same thing, only this time the sacks of chicken food had been eaten through and food was all over the floor. I was mystified. How were they getting in? Certainly they weren't opening the door, eating the food and then closing the door on their way out.
I mentioned this to my neighbor Tom and he said, "Do you think they're using your doggy door?" Holy crap, the smart little shits, that's EXACTLY what they're doing.
D'oh! As you can see, I fortified the doggy door with cardboard and a broken draftsman triangle. Calling a welder tomorrow to come out and make a stronger contraption. Why?
About ten this morning I heard the door open. I was working on my computer, which is around the corner from the door and I assumed it was Kathy coming over from the house. I called her name. No answer. I got up and peeked around the corner and saw a snout. "Get the hell out of here!" I yelled at the little Bieber. He ran around into the back yard, but as I went after him, I saw he had made mincemeat out of my little cardboard fortification. Here he is glaring right back at me.
"You got a problem with me, big guy?"
"Yes, I do, you little Bieber."
"Well, in all the confusion here, i can't remember. Did I eat five bags of chicken food, your flowers and a large bag of charcoal? Or was it six? Oh, and by the way, how long did it take you to figure out i was using your doggy door?"
"My neighbor had to tell me."
"That's what I figured. You must be slipping. What are you, 70? 75?"
"No, sweet Jesus, I'm only 65."
"Well, get a grip grandpa. if you can't outsmart a pig, maybe you should move to town."
"Get the hell out of here Bieber! I mean it. I can talk even louder if i want to."
"See you tomorrow. Different time, different entry, same results."
And so the little thief took his time leaving, wagging his little butt at me as he wiggled under the chain link fence.
Worked a bit on two interpretations of Kid Curry. Extrapolating between the death photo and the prison photos of Harvey Logan, alias Kid Curry, I came up with this:
He's a tad sensitive, but then so is the facial expression on the death photo. Of course, more than a few don't believe the death photo of Curry is really him.
Meanwhile, also took another run at a certain one-eyed-mule-ridin'-SOB you may recognize:
Love the ominous clouds ("Apache Midnite"). Need to work on his hand, arm and the blanket. Still wrestling with a serape that's half American flag and half Mexican, which would be the mash-up that underscores our damn story. Of course, whether you're talking about kid Curry or Mickey Free, it all comes down to your opinion about what really happened and what it means. But as Mr. Moynihan points out. . .
"You're entitled to your own opinion but not to your own facts."
—Daniel Patrick Moynihan
