Recent Activity
Search BL Rag
About This Site

The BL RAG is dedicated to the idea of free expression, thus we welcome and encourage reader  commentary on current events and issues, music, sports, or other topics of interest, no matter what one's political leanings or worldview.


Site Management:

Front Page Section Editors: Machiavelli, Skinnydipinacid, and Redbeard

Miscellanea Editor: Zoy Clem

Poetry Editor: Lenny

Music Editors: see schedule below


Site Editors: Skinnydipinacid and Zoy Clem

Maintenance Man: Master Admin Dude


Eric Olsen, Fornax, GrayRider, Winston, Jimmmco, and WesMorgan1


KRAG Music Section Schedule:

Sunday - Jgeagle5

Monday - Rhythm & Truth

Tuesday - Machiavelli

Wednesday - GrayRider

Thursday - Skinny

Friday - Fornax

Saturday - Zoy Clem

On-call - Schwabman

Powered by Squarespace



Just Browsing

After seeing the sixty-nine thousand dollar price tag on  the preceding Chevy,  I head over to the Ford dealer to look at automobiles that Henry Ford built for the average person with an average budget.  Henry is long dead, however, and so are his low-cost cars,  as this classic Victoria has a hefty price tag:



Visiting the Dealer

The dealer arrives shortly after I do and promptly introduces me to his mechanics before showing off a car every American man dreams about--a beautiful 1955 Chevy Nomad:



Buy a Buick

Here's another real beauty--the 1954 Buick Eight Special--also in my favorite color:



Backwards Into Time

I've always liked the body style of the '52 Chevy, so for a moment, I'll step back into time and see the car when it was still new:



Still Looking

My little red car, perhaps knowing its days are numbered, has been a model of reliability lately, perhaps trying to beguile me into forgetting my search for a replacement.  Nevertheless, I have still been looking--limiting my search to vehicles previously owned. I stumbled across this 1952 Chevy in my favorite color this morning:


Girl in Ice

Gaius the Archivist followed his drunken friend,  Walter, into the vast chamber and stopped, his mouth open.  There,  up near the ceiling,  like an insect trapped in a garden spider's web, waited Marcie, unconscious, woven into a latticework of ice. Much to his relief, she was not naked, clad instead in a pale shapeless gown that struggled to hide her female form.

"Marcie!" he shouted and then started forward, but Walter grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Let Lilli do her work, young Gaius," he said in a kindly voice. "You do not have the ability to free the girl. The dragon does."

Gaius stopped and nodded, taken aback.  Walter was a man of many emotions, but kindness was a virtue he'd never before revealed.

Walter resumed speaking.  "Now, listen to me,  Gaius---this is important.  There is a door hidden behind the ice. It leads out of this chain of caverns.  Once Lilli frees your girl, the two of you need to go through the passage beyond that door as quickly as you can and get as far away from here as possible. Understand?"

"You need to come with us," Gaius replied.

"No. If I survive this, Lilli and I will go out the way we came."

Gaius looked at him fearfully. "What do you mean by that? If you survive this?"

"Later, Gaius," Walter growled. "Just do what I told you. Lilli, go ahead and free the girl. We don't have much time."


Both Walter and the dragon turned to face Gaius.

"What now?" asked Walter in exasperation.

"Your dragon friend melted stone back in there in the passage we came through. She'll roast poor Marcie alive with those flames."

The dragon stared at him, her eyes revealing laughter. Gaius marveled at the beast, remembering the various artworks depicting her kind--how could a mythical creature be captured on canvas so accurately by thousands of artists over the centuries without actually ever being seen?

That question remained unanswered,  but Lilli the dragon answered Gaius' spoken one.  "Mortal man," she said, "there are fires, and then then are fires." She turned then and faced Marcie frozen in ice, releasing her flames.



What Dreams Are Made Of

I may have come to the car show to look at the autombiles,  but after wandering about and seeing the pretty girls, my dreams take a break from cars and focus on much more important things. Out of respect for such beauty,  the world goes silent around me, and my sense of sight grows sharper, allowing me a much fuller appreciation of what I'm seeing:

I'm still without a replacement car, so I guess the car search will have to resume next week. Have a nice weekend...


Taking a Break

I'm not getting anywhere in my search, so seeing that it is Friday, I think I'll just wander on over to the classic car show and spend a few hours daydreaming while I admire the cars.



Within the Budget

Today I finally found a vehicle I could afford--a 1950 Buick--but the car was anything but a sight for sore eyes:



The Radio Works

The next car I had a chance to examine was a 1947 Studebaker, but seeing the seller busy working on it when I arrived filled me with a sense of unease, my wallet growing thinner at the thought of future repairs.  Nevertheless,  I listened respectfully as he lovingly described the automobile, and later went with him for a test drive:



Not Quite What I Was Looking For

I headed uptown to visit another car dealer, who, in his classified ad, claimed to have a few dozen extra vehicles from the mid-1940s.  When I arrived, the man insisted on showing me some newer models,  before finally getting to an American vehicle built in 1943.  I did not bother taking a test drive--everything the dealer offered was a gas-guzzling tank.



Talking to the Mechanic

Well, if I can afford a classic. That said, the saleswoman wooing me is oblivious to this fact, taking me to see the mechanic, before we step into the car and embark on a test drive...



Back to Automobiles

After a week off attending to the needs of a friend, I return home to face my earlier predicament--the need for a replacement car to succeed the one I own now, a mostly reliable little vehicle which is, sadly, on its last legs (okay...wheels). Heading to the dealer, I find this beauty--a 1940 Ford:



An Archivist's Musings

(Continued from two Sundays ago)

The two men watched in awe as the dragon released its inner fires, melting away the walls of the passage, rivers of red flowing around them.  One such stream began to pool almost at Gaius' feet. He stepped away from the growing puddle, sweat trickling down his forehead from the heat. The walls ahead were glowing.

The dragon finished its work and drew in a fresh breath,  but instead of exhaling another gout of flame,  turned and spoke to Gaius instead. "The way is clear now but stay toward the center of the passage and move quickly, otherwise you will be roasted.  If that happens, I do not believe Walter would be too upset if I ate your charbroiled corpse."

Gaius started to respond,  but thought better of it, instead following old Walter, who had resumed walking. There was much that Gaius had wanted to say---for one, Walter's absurd claim about his parentage deserved a challenge. If it were indeed true, Walter would not just be old---he would be ancient. But then Gaius recalled the bizarre things that happened to him since coming to work for Clovis, and sighed. The museum that employed him was not a storehouse of art, it was, in truth, a mental institution, filled with raving lunatics. Why had Gaius left the university to work there?

"Come on!" Walter said impatiently, as Gaius had fallen behind, lost in his thoughts. The passage walls that the dragon had widened earlier began to darken, rapidly cooling.

Gaius realized then  that he had stopped and started walking again.  Walter too had halted, a few dozen paces ahead of him, waiting. When Gaius rejoined Walter,  he saw that the passage opened into a wide room,  its walls completely covered with artwork,  which seemingly refuted his earlier thoughts on mental institutions and lunatics.  Or did it?  The renderings around him looked to be the efforts of a madman.

"We're almost there," Walter said excitedly, paying the art no mind. Instead he started forward at a brisk pace and exited the room.



Back Next Sunday

It's a short notice, but I will be  taking a break...I need to do something important this week for a woman very dear to me and my heart is simply not up to to writing anything at all, so posting will resume next Sunday.



Girl Friday

I guess I'll need to spend another week looking---perhaps a car from the 1940s or '50s might be more within my price range. But for now, it is time to forget about transportation and focus on a much more important topic--the girls. As a prelude to next week's search, let's spend a couple of minutes perusing these 1940 pin-ups:

Have a nice weekend...



Week-Ending Look

I can't afford this one either, but since I've examined the others, I may as well take a few minutes to admire this 1939 Packard:



Old Chevy

Most of the week has passed by without finding an automobile I can afford.  This 1938 Chevrolet Master Deluxe is almost in range, but with General Motors in the financial state it's in, do I really want to risk buying an old Chevy?



Seventh Life

The year 1937 was a sad year for cartoon fans, as Felix the Cat passed away after three years in mourning, the poor feline pining away to nothing for his creator and owner, Pat Sullivan (1885-1933). Felix's last film, Bold King Cole, was released the year before and was still playing in the theaters when the surreal little cat passed on:

Fortunately for Felix, cats have nine lives, which allowed him to be revived in the 1950s and again in the 1990s.



A Short-Lived Beauty

Heading out to the rural suburbs, I answer an ad for a 1937 Cord 812, a car produced for a very short two-year period beginning in 1936: