Gomer

I have a dilemma.  I don't want to post all my BW pictures in a few days, not knowing when I will be out to make more again, but I don't want to drag out my BW adventure forever, either.  I have three good pictures from this stage event and a couple more "backstage," and they should all go together, I think, but. . . then I'll be back to looking for pictures to post on a blog that has for a long time relied on photographs.  

And so. . . I will choose to eek them out.  And it isn't all girly pictures I have, either.  I did pretty good at Bike Week.  

So we'll set the "stage."  I wanted this to look as much like the Playboy in the Jungle scene from "Apocalypse Now" as I could.  Here are the early Gomers taking photos with their cell phones of the PG to R Bikini Contest.  Boys will be dogs, as they say.  It can't be helped.  It is genetic.  It is God's plan.  While we label both men and women "human," they are not the same.  Obviously.  

Men have less genetic material.  

I'll go out on a limb and say this is essentially a MAGA crowd, though I didn't see any of those hats.  Odd, I thought.  But hats there were, and that is what separates me from the throng.  That and my assumption that I have more estrogen than they.  

I figure my mix of hormones is about that of my lesbian photographer friend.  She likes my pictures and disdains lesbians.  She married a "straight" woman, and that is where all her crushes lay.  She has been in touch recently asking some camera advice and says we still need to go down to her hometown in Okeechobee on a photo adventure.  Scares the shit out of me, but yea, we should go.  

I should go anywhere, though. 

The faux-stripper show wasn't much.  They didn't give each girl enough time to show their talents.  Mostly they were standing around while the goofy MC yacked.  You know what they say--give an asshole a microphone. . . and one day he could be president.  

One day, though, it could be she. 

The Gomers got to applaud for their favorite girls, and the field was narrowed to three.  The awful part was that the other girls didn't get to leave the stage but were made to line up behind the favorites.  It was already a done-deal, though.  There were no surprises.  Everyone knew who was going to win, who would be second, and who would be third.  

When the girls came off the stage, the earlier energy seemed to be all gone.  

Date night and the next morning, you know?  

For the rest of the day, the only women we saw under forty were the ones serving drinks or the few who were dancing on platforms trying to get some kopeks. Mostly we saw people hopelessly clinging to some movie version of a Brando bad boy biker. 

Not my dead ex-friend.  The other one.  

Oh, lordy, I should post those other photos, but I will wait.  My days ahead look to be filled with essential duties, not art.  And so. . . . 

Another Gomer gawking at the girls.  But wait. . . what?. . . is that Gomer wearing a hat?!?