Gary L. Simmons  rev 02/05/10  http://webwonks.org/Extra/photoalbum/PhotoAlbum.html
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Gary's Photo Album

Oh! (grabbing at invisible spot in front of me) If you look at the above graphic too long you will get one of those flashbulb spots floating in front of your eyes. That effect almost works better than I intended. You gotta love Photoshop. This is pretty bare bones for now. I will fancy this up later but right now I am scanning my butt off and trying to get them compressed and online a fast as possible. To start off I am presenting my personal photos, other photos will follow. My first instinct is to present this collection of personal photographs in the order they were taken. Hey if you print them off you can make a flip book movie out of it and watch me morph into a geezer! You will notice that a lot of these photos were taken before the invention of color. I'm not talking about color photography... I mean before the invention of COLOR!

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 Baby 1
 *
San Diego CA. Awwwwwwwww... Isn't he C U T E??? ... ::sniff sniff:: Whatzat smell? Oh geez Loo-ezze!! Somebody check that diaper! Hey mom, when the diaper box says "For up to 20 pounds" they mean the weight of the BABY!!!
 Baby 2
 *
San Diego CA. Here I have learned to sit up. Not an easy trick when your head is 50 percent of your volume. Try this experiment, Weigh yourself then with a small cow one half of your body weight duct taped to your head, lay down and try to sit up. Now try this wearing a folded up beach towel around your loins that is full of guacamole.
 7 Months
 *
San Diego CA. Here I am doing brain work. I tell you Steempy, I'm alla time theenking. I'm probably looking for the accelerator for that sharp set of wheels I'm sitting in. Notice the fine Corinthian leather seats. My folks spared no expense for me.
 2 Years
 *
San Diego CA. Here is a shot of me and my brother. This is actually a pretty typical representation of he and I. Please notice that I am on the ball while he is just standing around picking his butt. This theme continues to this day.
 3 Years
 *
Newport News VA. This is me as seen from the dad cam begging for scraps from the table. There was this look, the "Biafra" look, the "sad eyed puppy" look and the "feed me or I'll start salting your foot" look.
 4 Years
 *
Newport News VA. Here I am developing the role of "Greased Lightnin'". You can call me Greasy for short but you had better smile when you say that pardner, cause I am one desperate desparado in the throws of desperation. Hey check out those cars in the background. Is that a Studebaker behind me? All my neighbors were really fanatic classic car buffs... or jehoshaphat, maybe I am just really really old!
 6 Years
 *
Northfork VA. We had a swimming pool in our backyard. Who says Navy housing was austere? I remember those shoes, they were pretty neat, they had hiking treds before hiking treds were cool. Meaning I probably looked like a dweeb to my friends. I could almost walk up walls in those after having become accustomed to leather soles. Me on the right by the way.
 7 Years
 *
Northfork VA. Here I am showing the first signs of the dementia that would plague me for the rest of my life. My brother was trying to give me rabbit ears but was obviously unclear on the concept (look at his other hand!). For his foolishness I slid a popcicle stick shiv between his ribs while bopping his earlobe. He never recovered from his wounds.
 8 Years
 *
Chicago IL. I can't think of anything worse than people who try to steal your oxygen. Although I appear to be enjoying it... I must be completely unaware of the danger. It was this very photo that got me kicked out of the He-Man Woman Haters Club.
 9 Years
 *
Chicago IL. I finally remembered to comb my hair for the school picture for once. D'OH! forgot to pull my collar out after I put my sweater on! My mom knitted that dark green Irish fisherman's sweater I'm wearing.
 11 Years
 *
Long Beach CA. heh... hehehe hahahah... HA hahahahah aaahhh HA HA... HEH HEH. AHHHH HA HA AH HAA HAA HAA HAAAAA AHAAHAHAHAHA! ::cough cough:: Oh brother, even I want to beat me up and take my lunch money!!!
 12 Years
 *
San Lorenzo CA. That little cat is named Twink. It was the first cat I really liked because I finally learned the secret of cats. You are their equal, not their master. She would jump into our swivel chair and beg to be spun. I would spin her for a minute and just die laughing as she tried to walk away from it. She was a spin junky.
 13 Years
 *
San Lorenzo CA. My 13 year old neice said of this picture, "You look kinda like a girl, I like your hair though!". Hey give me a break, testosterone works only so fast. If it were instantaneous they would put it in A-Bombs. But now that I look at it, hey, I do have some pretty big hair.
 14 Years
 *
San Miguel Phillipines. ok... NOW the testosterone is kicking in. I got my big hair down a little better too. I must have been using better grease. Lathered it on thicker anyway.
 15 Years
 *
San Miguel PI. What we have here is a major change in attitude. I went from greaser to surfer, a hodad to hang zen wave master. I really liked the PI, I became a real ocean child. I hung out at the beach all day long, snorkel diving, surfing, playing on the beach. I was living in a tropical paradise.
 16 Years
 *
San Miguel PI. How they got me off the beach to take this photo is anyones guess. I was probably tricked into it by one of those oxygen stealing wahinis.
 17 Years
 *
Rosarita Beach Mexico. By now I am quite the world traveler and often you can find me in foreign countries offering a hearty American howdy to those I encounter in my travels. The hand of friendship is often returned with great emphasis in much the same way as it is to most Americans venturing onto foreign soils.
 18 Years
 *
Chula Vista CA. Graduation! At last I can start getting on with my life, I have my plans all laid out. First I will obtain a degree in Comercial Art, then land a great paying job, find a lovely wife and have many bouncing children in a green lawned suburbia thereby living happily ever after.
 19 Years
 *
Marine Corp Recruit Depot - San Diego CA... D'OH!!!!! Ok ok ok, new plan. No plan. That's the plan. I wonder what my 13 yr old niece would think of my hair now. They shaved it to the scalp but they left 5 long hairs untouched in the back. I had some fun in the barracks combing it in front of the others.
 20 Years
 *
Bangkok Thailand. I am on R&R from 10 months into a tour of duty in Vietnam. The guy in back is room service in a hotel. I liked to think I looked like the Green Hornet and he was my sidekick, Kato. But then I was so high at the time, this photo was taken 4 floors above where I was sitting. Upon sober reflection I don't look like the Green Hornet. At all. I had an interesting experience in this hotel, I took my first steaming hot bath after 10 months of infrequent, mostly soapless, cold water showers. I turned the bath water black and left a bathtub ring you could sit your drink on.
 21 Years
 *
Chula Vista CA. Back home at last. I am sitting in front of a pencil sketch of myself. It was drawn by a friend. I am trying to assume the same pose as me in the sketch. These were strange times. I was so paranoid when I got out of the service, I could NOT be comfortable having a group of people behind my back. I always felt like I was in a snipers sites when I was in the open.
 22 Years
 *
Chula Vista CA. Ahhh... flower power. Peace man. That's me on the right. I forget what happened that year, I think I tried to store those memories over a faulty brain disk sector caused by some bad acid. We will never know.
 23 Years
 *
Chula Vista CA. No, the photo is sharp as an unblooded scalpel, it is my FACE that is blurry. I should never have mixed tequila and Metamucil as it brings a whole new meaning to the term, "s--t faced"! My girl friend yelled, "Hey Gary" and as I looked over she snapped the picture. I named that VW microbus, "Hotcha Tomale". It had a camper kit installed which I wound up living in for a summer. To this day I still stoop to put on my pants and signal out the bay window when I turn the house.
 25 Years
 *
Dutch Flat CA. You are seeing the official launch of the Dutch Flat Royal Air Force. This well armed and magnificient Guardian Of The Skies served to protect the entire bi-state inter mountain region until a tree ate it. What you can't tell from the picture is that the launcher is a broomstick with a monster rubberband on it. Also hard to tell from the picture, the guy doing the launching is 6 foot 9 inches tall, 250lbs of speed gut and muscle, and looks like a pumped up Tom Selleck on steroids. We are entering an era when I had no camera nor the funds to support the use of one. I lived off of approx. 1,400 dollars a year that decade, I ate a lot of bushes... REALLY! I was into eating the local greenery plus there were a lot of abandoned local orchards, some planted by the Chinese railroad workers in the 1800's. Every summer I would oink out on locally growing blackberries, grapes, cherries, pears, and apples. Dried a bunch for the long winters too. I gathered wild grass seeds, legumes, herbs and spices. I baked co-op bread (you buy ingredients, I mix and bake them, we share bread). Food is everywhere.
 27 Years
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Dutch Flat CA. Oh brother, get a load of this one. This in inside my little cabin in the woods up in the mountains where I spent 11 years as a "psychedelic-hermit-cosmological-earth-muffin-yoink" . I traded a pair of jeans for that tie-died shirt, I still have it cause it's TRIPPY maaan. Look at alla dat detritus in my room! There is a book on psi discoveries, a microscope, a high frequency electrical generator, a case containing multiple Cheops pyramids, an acupuncture chart, a chart of the Chinese zodiac, my biology book, a pic of Baba Rum Raisin, a tardigrade, a guitar and a sprig of Chinese lantern tree hanging from the ceiling for good luck. I can't make out the rest of the jetsam but I am sure it is just as weird. But hey, you can't tell something is BS until you check it out yourself, right?
 30 Years
 *
LA County Museum Rose Garden- Los Angeles CA. I was abducted by aliens in the years 28 and 29 and I sure wish I had remembered to teleport up a camera. Gone is the chance to capture those fond memories of anal probes while disassembled on a slab. Now it is two years later and I find myself in the one city that is composed almost entirely of former UFO abductees, Los Angeles. See that T-shirt? It is from the Monte Vista Inn and the Inn is still open for business, I worked there for 7 and a half years and highly recommend the place. Take I80 east from Sacramento, it is about an hour from there in a little town called Dutch Flat. Right off the highway, it is built from logs, can't miss it. I still dream about the Monte Vista Inn fondly and regularly.
 31 Years
 *
Blue Canyon CA. For some reason everybody used to call me "Numbnuts".
 32 Years
 *
Casa Loma Campground - Alta CA. Me and Hotcha Tamale, a VW microbus with a camper kit inside. I put more work into that bus than King Khufu put into the Cheops pyramid. In fact, if you put the man hours end to end that I spent grease monkeying that chump they would stretch back to the invention of dirt. I am back posing for some pictures at the campground that I lived at for my first summer in Dutch Flat. I am older and wiser and plumper. Older by the relentless force of the years, wiser because I know better than to camp in that bus, and I had regained the 25 pounds I lost in Vietnam. Those pounds are still over there somewhere, other vets have tried to find children they fathered there, perhaps I should try to contact my long lost weight. That 25 pounds would actually be pretty much evenly distributed between about 395 piles of poop. Gosh, I had better get busy!
 33 Years
 *
Loma Linda CA. ...ACK! Trapped like a rat! Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Unlike most folks I slept like a baby on the night before my wedding, I woke up every hour and cried! My wife wanted an elaborate ceremony: a gothic cathedral, the Pope, Hollywood celebs as best man and woman, and hundreds of flower girls. You know, the works. Me, I wanted a simple ceremony: just me in cutoffs with a keg of beer on a tailgate. You can see from this picture we compromised. Anymore the only time I totally get my way is when it comes to taking a dump. But even then she makes me use the toilet. Don't get me wrong men, I am not saying don't get married. Besides I bet you would look great in an apron. Yow!! I hope my wife doesn't read this!!!
 34 Years
 *
Loma Linda CA. Here is a picture of our second Christmas together. I proudly present to you our first born child, which my wife, Kitty, is so lovingly cradling. As a proud papa I am determined to show my son, Moose, all the tricks that I learned in my near fatal attempt to grow to adulthood. Almost on a daily basis my wife tirelessly and absolutely insists that he looks exactly like me but I really don't think there is much of a resemblance to me at all. In fact in the entire family tree on my side of the family I don't have even ONE relative with antlers. It must skip every 30 generations is all I can think of.
 35 Years
 *

Loma Linda CA. Approaching the third year of our fruitful marriage brings to us another blessing, our daughter Ginger. When the stork brought us this one he hung around suspicious like until Kitty slipped him a bulky unmarked envelope. I saw that go down in the mirror while I was combing my hair. That evening I surprised my wife by bringing home a large white "goose" for the dinner table. I remember her being mystified by the exact species of this weird looking "goose" that had very long legs that bent backwards, had no webbed feet and lacked a flat bill. "If anything" she remarked, "this looks more like a... nawwwww" The "goose" was actually pretty good but we spent an awful lot of time picking shot out of the meat. "Did you have to shoot it so many damn times??", she complained. "I had to, it wouldn't stop trying to call 911", I lied.

So anyway, for those of you who don't get it, I am talking about Ginger, my mom's dog sitting in my wife's lap and Moose in the gag above that is a stuffed animal my wife is holding. Criminy.

 36 Years
 *
Loma Linda CA. 36, six years past when anybody under 30 can trust me. That is 6 squared, gosh if I was 6 years old and could look 30 years into the future and see me sitting by the Christmas tree all excited about getting a stupid shirt I would have committed suicide! I am sure many a young fledgling profit has ended it all (before becoming decently martyred by angry sinners) upon receiving somewhat the same revelation in a vision. For example there was young St. John of Sheboygan, a 7 year old boy who in a trance for 2 days suddenly awoke ashen faced and said only, "Dockers", then blew his brains out with a potato gun.
 37 Years
 *
Loma Linda CA. Internal mental dialog while reading: The Pacific Flying fish can exit the water at speeds of..." Hey what the hell is my wife giggling at? I won't look, I will ignore her and continue reading. "The Pacific Flying fish can exit the..." What th- there she goes again, can't she see I am trying to study this write up on the flying fish?? I can't take her any where without that incessant giggling of hers... "The Pacific Flying fish can..." Oh crap, now she took a picture of the wall!! What the heck is wrong with that woman?? I'm not going to encourage her, I'm not going to look up.
 38 Years
 *
Silver Springs FL. I love to feed animals out of my hand and have my lovely and gracious wife take a picture of it. She thinks I am fool hearty because one of these creatures may nip me and "they carry diseases" she warns (a little too shrilly sometimes). "Look out", she nags, "One of these days one of your little ingrate friends is going to bite you, they are wild, and I'm not going to do anything but take the picture because if I have warned you once I have warned you a thousand times to be more careful, so mark my words...". Yada yada yada. I reply that I know what I'm doing you dope. All you have to do is take the stupid picture! I'm the naturalist in this family, I'm an expert in this, I'm the professional here, now just back off and take the damn picture!
 39 Years
 *
Riverside CA. 39... hey I'm supposed to stop aging now like Jack Benny and I Love Lucy. Boy am I relieved, I thought I was going to get old. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh... gurgle! Wait! a liver spot just crawled out from under my shirt sleeve! ACK! get me a potato peeler! Get it off me!! Well folks actually I am quite comfortable with my aging process now thanks to lithium treatments, prozac, thorazine, a host of major league barbiturates washed down with white lightnin' and of course my precious daily quart of seratonin syrup that is injected directly into my hypothalamus. Look at my picture. I'm happy see? If you look closely at my face you can see the cracks that form when my frown is disturbed. But hell, I'm smiling. Who died??
 40 Years
 *
Point Loma CA. Oh man. The big four-oh. Hey you know what I did? I told the folks at work that I was 41 so they would give me a normal birthday party. As it was they gave me a poop party. Everything had poop as the theme. I had a ball cap with a big load of crap on the bill, a bust made from resinated cow flop called a "s**t head", fake rubber poo and a card everybody signed saying how crappy I was. Maybe an over-the-hill birthday party wouldn't have been so bad after all! Anyway this is a picture of me with my dad and we aren't arguing! In the background is my brand new pickup truck. Man I was proud of that, it was my first new car. I was one of those "new car owners" too. I had a bed liner in the back to keep the bed from getting scratched but when I hauled my first load I covered the bed liner with a tarp to keep the bed liner from getting scratched!! Now-a-days you can butcher cattle with a chainsaw in there and I'm OK with it.
 41 Years
 *
Riverside CA. See that happy sappy expectant pre-post-letdown look on my little face? It is Christmas Eve and I am still pumped up with visions of sugar plums slam dancing in my head. Little do I realize that all those colorful boxes, neatly wrapped and decorated with seasonal stickers and ribbons contain not the cool techno toys, not the computer games, not the "Blow Me" T-shirt, not the Meat Puppet's "I'm Puking For You" CD, not the "Thomas Guide to Nevada Brothels", not the classic John Wayne Winchester 1893 lever action rifle. Instead all I got was socks, underpants, a dress shirt, a tie, a book titled "Compliment Your Wife" and napkin rings. Historians will all agree that this is the seasonal trauma incident that sent me over the edge.
 42 Years
 *
Riverside CA. Have you ever seen one of those kinds of photos that seem to drill right through the flesh and show the tender inner beauty of a person? I have here one of those photos. It is as if the lens were from an X-ray machine and the film was the film that captures subatomic collider images. All of my love, compassion, tenderness and heartfelt earthy-squishiness shines through. Here is the real me; the me that pets kittens, the me that lightly skips through spring meadows tossing blossom petals to each side, the me that takes a spatula and removes road kill to provide it a decent Christian burial. Try not to think of the me that keeps a human head in his basement or the me that has an actual dead elf pinned to a wax dissection slab.
 43 Years
 *
Cedar Breaks National Monument UT. This is a photo from the "National Tour of Great American Restrooms" I went on back in 1991. Here is a photo of me in one of the best kept up stalls I had the pleasure to soil. Hats off to the architect that designed and built this one, he sure knew what he was doing! The air freshener was a delight to smell and the sound system was awesome. Now if I can only get rid of the lady with the camera.
 44 Years
 *
Petrified National Forest AZ. Gosh... you know you are getting old when they have the remains of your first dog on display!
 45 Years
 *
Carlsbad NM. Here is a picture of me and my girlfriend. This was taken just before she dumped me, she had the futzpah to say that I was too immature for her!! So stunned was I, that chocolate frosted corn flakes and milk shot out my nose... well actually that is what she was commenting on. Anyway, I was so mad I threw water balloons at her when ever she walked by my tree house window. She found a different route to school after that... so I stalked her, I followed her around everywhere just so I could make a little fart sound whenever she sat down. This is the only remaining picture of her I have that I did not deface with a crayon; giving her a big scar, glasses and a goatee. I realize now she just did not understand the real me, the sensitive, elegant and poetic side of me. Anyway she is a potty face and I hope she chokes.
 46 Years
 *
Riverside CA. This is one of those things I have suspected is true ever since the first time I ever tried to pull up a dandelion. Over the years, as I struggled to get the damn things out of the ground, I would think, "Dang... these weeds must have a concrete block attached to the root". I was just joking with myself but imagine my stunned surprise when I actually took the time to dig around a dandelion root to finally put my suspicions to rest.
 47 Years
 *
Knott's Berry Farm CA. Is it my baseball cap? Is it my shiny new shoes? Is it my lean, chiseled build? Is it my swayve and de-boner air? Most likely it is the sunglasses that cover most of my face. But whatever it is, I got it and the chicks all flock to it. It doesn't matter what their race, color, creed, age or construction material. They dig it - they know it, I know it, let the games begin!

 48 Years
 *

Anaheim CA. The only words of philosophy my father ever put to paper was found in a log book of his after he died in an entry dated May 12, 1958. It read: "I think it is important to have something to revere - a banner, or a cause, or a person that is bigger than we are and better than we are when we are at our best." These words were written when I was almost 10 years old. They were important, a doctrine in my formative years and can explain much about my later development into an adult. I, like my father before me, have found a person that is bigger and better than I am when I am at my best. Here I pay homage to that shining representation of mankind at his shrine, in a park that is dedicated to him and all he stands for.
 49 Years
 *
Yosemite CA. They say you never forget how to ride a bicycle. What they don't tell you is that the recall process takes about a day. Until then: you have to remember to check if a seat is attached to the frame, that the spokes are not for twiddling your toes as you coast, that the handle bars not the road ruts steer the damn thing, and that if you almost run over little old ladies they will put your eye out with their umbrellas. It wasn't quite that bad but let me tell you, my butt didn't remember how to ride at all. In fact my butt complained the whole time that the seat was too hard, the ground too bumpy and the butt meat too thin to properly cushion those pointy butt bones. My butt was terribly sore the rest of the day and would not shut up, even bringing up that time I took it horseback riding in Sequoia, the prat fall on the log while hiking, and the time I left it out in the sun to get burned to a crisp while up in the mountains at the old swimming hole. Now he has a right to complain, but man, his breath stinks!
50 Years
 *
Lost Wages NV. I am an animal rights activist with a difference. While the spoiled Hollywood elite are sitting in their spas sipping fine wine and bragging about the cute little kitten faced minks they have donated money for, I am in the trenches doing the actual dirty work. I don't just provide funds for adorable, precious little critters that would perch on Ellie May Clampet's shoulders. I sacrifice my own body to provide crucial habitat for nature's uglier and less popular but equally endangered species. The entire lower half of my face has been donated as a federally protected natural wildlife reserve for such tragically endangered species as the Boggy Creek Leper Tick, the European Plague Flea, the Blood Feeding Spider Mite, the two headed Louisiana King Leech, and the Lesser Pan-Siberian Scunge Louse. Every night I drift off to sleep to the mating calls and lustful wrestlings of these wonderful, but lesser loved of God's wild kingdom.
51 Years
 *
Balboa Park, San Diego CA. Back in the 60's I did a lot of really stupid things to my brain. Stupid things that continue to haunt me to this day.


52 Years

 *

Miranda, CA. There is so much you could learn from me. You should take my advise and learn from my mistakes. Never ever ever take a sea turtle with you on a visit to the coast redwoods unless you are OK with it wanting to sneak itself into every shot. The only thing worse would be to take a 52 year old guy, with creepy long hair no less, who tries to get into every shot. Well my wife sure learned from my advise, last time she went on vacation she ditched the both of us. That's her on the right, I'm holding her hand. I DID ask for her hand in marriage. You gotta be careful what you ask for, and one last bit of advice for future reference, try not to be so specific.

53 Years
 *

Wild Animal Park, San Diego CA. You want to know what bugs me? I mean what really bugs me? I'm not talking about a little bugged. I'm talking about big time bugged. Something that not only gets me up in arms, but something that causes me to bare arms?? I'll tell you what it is, I'll tell you all right! Gosh, I'm just so darned agitated by this that I can hardly type. YES, I'll tell you what really REALLY REALLY bugs me!!!


54 Years

 *

Agate Fossil Beds, Harrison NE. Wow, talk about nostalgia. Recently I went back to my old house from when I was a kid. It was a real blast to the past seeing all the old sights of years gone by. You can imagine my amazement when I found, stuck in a crack where it was blown to by the wind and forgotten since childhood, an old arithmetic homework assignment of mine! With a tear in my eye, I stood in front of my childhood home and held it up with pride while my wife captured the moment on film.


55 Years

 *

King Canyon National Park, CA. Here I am sporting wood. It's huge, it's long, it's fat, it's hard as a fence post. It's about as big as they get as a matter of fact. Not the biggest, I don't mean to brag. But dang, simply stated... It was so impressive my wife made me stand there so she could take a picture of it. It barely fit in the photograph!


56 Years

 *

Charcoal Kilns, Death Valley , CA. Here I am reinacting the event of my birth. You see according to family lore, at one time, I was a bun in my mother's oven much like this giant charcoal kiln. I remember the warmth and the darkness, but man I could have sworn it was more crowded than this. I don't remember feeling so sardonic either.

New
57 Years
*
San Bernardino National Forest, San Bernardino Mountains, CA - Intrigued with all this "environment brohoohaw" I chartered one of Al Gore's many giant private jets and burned 300,000 pounds of fuel to visit a nearby forest to hug a tree. Bound and determined to commune with the Earth Mother I set out immediately in my SUV through the brush and over creeks to find a suitable tree to hug. We managed to chainsaw a clearing around the tree we had selected. I attempted to hug the tree, but frustrated by my repeated failure, I cut the damn thing down and burned it for firewood that night to cook some Northern Spotted Owl comfort food.
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