Golf is the Problem

Not only is golf a complete waste of valuable land that ruins the environment from the chemical maintenance of grass upkeep...not only is it a waste of a nice Saturday afternoon walk...it is also one of the most anti-democratic of activities ever devised. The real rulers of this country, the politicians, lobbyists, and CEOs are attracted to the same high-priced country clubs where they can meet, network, socialize, with each other and insulate themselves from the citizens. How expensive are the most exclusive and insulated of these places? Membership at Mar a Lago is now $200,000. Another Trump property where Donald the unready spends a great deal of his time while supposedly working for us, Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, NJ, is $300,000. But, don't worry, if you are of the cheap sort and want to hang out with hoi polloi like Warren Buffett, you can join Augusta national for a measly 5-figures. People like you and me aren't invited, no matter what our handicaps are. These are perfect, isolated places where they can plan on how to screw the rest of us away from prying eyes. (That's a long way from poor Scottish shepherds knocking rocks into gopher holes) Nearly every president since Ike has played golf, of course, but we have reached an entirely new level of golf course oligarchy with a president who owns the damned golf course. It's time to start banning these sprawling threats to democracy and turning them into  public parks. Fuck golf.

A No-Win Scenario

I've been meaning to write this for months but more things keep happening. My dad went into the hospital on labor day with problems. Long story short, they discovered colon cancer. A two-foot section of colon was removed as well as the lymph nodes. Lesions were found on his liver. The lymph nodes and liver were biopsied and tested positive. Dad's condition is getting worse every day. He's dying. Today was our first visit from Hospice.

A family friend who is a gastroenterologist had been telling Dad for years to get a colonoscopy. He never wanted to. This could have been discovered a very long time ago when something could have been done about it. He had already beat prostate cancer and a bump on the head which put him into a coma for a week. He seemed indestructible. I was convinced that he'd live to 100. But, nobody is indestructible.

I'm preaching here, and I don't care. I've had two colonoscopies already. They are inconvenient as fuck, but there is no good excuse not to get one. When your doctor tells you that it's time for one, he's not doing it to torturer you, it will literally save your life. Just fucking do it.

Addendum: Another one of my mom's sister past away suddenly in her sleep two days less than a month after her first sister passed. This is too much for the family to go through, and, I'm at my wit's end now.

Memento Mori

So, one of my Aunts died last week. She was my my mother's youngest sister. She went to take a nap and stopped breathing. Her friend, who is useless in a crisis called my mother before calling emergency services. When I got to the apartment with my mother, we were there about just before the police and 20 or 40 minutes after she had stopped breathing. I spent some time working, along with my father,  in for a funeral home, and so, I noticed that lividity was already setting in. Her friend was on the phone the emergence operator who told us to start CPR. I made him get her off the bed and on to the floor. I let my CPR certification lapse 10 years ago, and I was so nervous about not knowing what I was doing that I was freezing up. I was about to begin comprehensions when the police came in with the fire department and EMTs and paramedics on their heels. The professionals worked on her and pumped her so full of drugs that a slight pulse began. This is when they brought her to the hospital.

I had to leave the hospital and fetch my aunt's living will. When I got back to the ER, her EKG was flatlined, but there was a machine breathing for her. As per directions, the doctor took her off the life support with two sisters, a brother-in-law, a nephew and a friend present. She was suffering with Parkinson's and was in a lot of physical pain for two I am grateful that at least she went to sleep in her own bed in her own home and didn't wake up.

My aunt was an atheist, so we had a nice no-denominational memorial service at the funeral home, the one that my family is familiar with. Extended family, professional friends, and members of her book club were in attendance. Many people stood up to speak and had many lovely words about her. She was personally and professionally admired by so many people that it made me glad. It was a fine service, until the very end when things blew up.

This isn't not the place to go into details, or to try to assign blame. I don't know who is reading this blog. A huge row ensued inside the funeral home over my aunt's ashes. I had to step in physically, like a hockey referee, between one of my aunt's daughters (the one not currently living overseas) and one of my mother's other sisters, to keep them from coming to blows. Language that should not be uttered in a funeral home was used. It was all so white trash, so Real Housewives of New Jersey, that it was embarrassing. My mother, the matriarch of the family was besides herself. Seething, I roared at everyone to stop. After the repast, I called the funeral director's cell phone and personally apologized for my family.

Today, I pinpointed exactly where the confusion started. It was with an innocent misunderstanding on the part on someone other than the daughter and or the aunt. It's all settled now to everyone's satisfaction. But, it should not have devolved into this fury in the first place. I'm not going to have this any more. I'm 47 years old and an elder now. This is the day that I take over as head of the family.

Organizing My web Presence

From now on, my photography geek stuff is going to be on my special photography blog here:

https://jonfairchildphotographyblog.blogspot.com/ ,

which I have linked to my website here:

https://www.jonfairchildphotography.com/

Which is going to be the hub of Jon Fairchild Photography. My next step is going to get myself onto Instagram. That's the really big step that I need to take to get my work out there. 

 I'll still be here on this blog occasionally with more personal stuff. There is something going on that I really need to write about, but, it's going to take some time.

Cheers...

Jon

Changes

After ten years, I've pretty much lot my passion for my day job in the retail coffee industry. I can feel the company sucking the life out of me. It gives me health insurance and retirement benefits and helps pay the bills (barely). I'm looking for a way to get my chosen art for to at least pay for it's self. I'm searching for ways to get my photography seen and sold. I created a main photography site and a fineartamerica store and have them linked to this blog. I'll have more interesting things coming in the next weeks and months.

A dozen definitive Generation X Movies

A word about the word:
Before Douglas Coupland dubbed my generation "Generation X", the term was the title of a photo essay by the great photographer Robert Capa on youth people coming of age just after World War 2, the young people of the 1950s. The term never caught on. This was my parent's generation, ironically. The term could have fit them just as easily. As we stand twixt the Boomers and the Millennials, they stand between the Greatest Generation and The Boomers, they, too are, in the words of Tyler Durden in "Fight Club", the middle children of history. My dad's older brother served in the war, my dad was only 16 in 1945. My dad was in the service during the Korean conflict, at the same time, my mom was in high school with bobby socks and poodle skirts. My dad's older siblings had Glen Miller, my dad had Stan Kenton. My mom's younger siblings had the Beatles, my mom had Tony Bennett. They married in 1956. They saw the civil rights era. My mom's younger sisters went to Woodstock. In 1969, my parents had me.

Just for fun, I created a list of the definitive movies of and about my generation. They are in a semi-chronological order ranging from the seventies to the the end of the nineties.

1: The Bad News Bears

I'm talking about the original one, of course, with Walter Matthau and Tatum O'Neal. In spite of (or because of) all the fighting, and the cursing, and Coach Buttermaker's drinking problem, this movie shows a surprisingly sympathetic look at childhood in the 1970s, even if, like me, you didn't play little league.

2: The Legend of Billie Jean 

First of all, the scene with oh-so-lovely Helen Slater at the swimming hole (right before the jerks started messing with brother Binx's scooter) had my 16 year old adolescent head spinning. I don't think I ever really recovered. H.S.'s Billie Jean Davy goes on to lead a full blown youth rebellion that had us all cheering. Fair is fair!

3: Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Why did I include this popular comedy? They called our generation slackers, and nobody put as much effort and talent into the fine art of slacking as Ferris.

4: The Breakfast Club

Throw a bunch of students from completely different high school cliques together in Saturday detention and they learn that they are all equally outsiders and misfits. Nothing defined Generation X better.

5:  Heathers

Wynona Ryder and Christian Slater team up to kill off the snobby popular kids in school only to see the plan backfire when their victims become even more beloved in death. This very black comedy is a defining movie for a generation characterized by bleak irony and practiced nonchalance.

6: War Games
Thanks to genius boomers such as Bill Gates and Steve Wozniak, we were the first kids to grow up with our own computers (Sorry, millennials, it's true). A cyberpunk thriller before there was a word for it. Mathew Broderick plays a teenage hacker invading pre-internet bulletin boards looking for free games to download, only to inadvertently activate a NORAD war game scenario that nearly begins world war three.

7: Reality Bites
Lives of the overeducated and underemployed in the 1990s. Gen-X queen Wynona Ryder documents the romantic and career troubles of her friends with a camcorder.

8: Slacker
The very title of this movie is that hated word that the Boomers used to define us with. You've seen the "Keep Austin Weird" T-Shirsts. In this series of vignettes, Gen-X director Richard Linlater takes us to Austin, TX and gives us a grand tour of the weird circa 1991.

9: Clerks
Kevin Smith filmed this no-budget flick in black and white at the convenience store where he worked. It gives us a day in the life of no-future 20-somethings in Leonardo, NJ who spend their time doing such things as debating the ethics of blowing up the second Death Star and judging people by the movies that they rent.

10: Grosse Point Blank
A movie about growing up to realize that life doesn't turn out the way you imagined. This film tells it's message using the unlikely scenario of John Cusack as a hit man with an existential crisis going to his 10 year high school reunion.

11: Swingers
Struggling Brooklynite trying to get his shit together as a comedian in LA while sampling the mid-1990's neo-lounge scene. The film has some hilarious scenes for anyone who lived through that time period, the most uncomfortable answering machine scene ever put to film, and a cameo by swing revival band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

12: Fight Club
Rounding off the list, we finish the journey from The Legend of Billie Jean's fantasies of youth rebellion to "the middle children of history" beating the living shit out of each other in order to feel alive for just five minutes.

I'm going to leave this list at a dozen. What movies would you include?

    

So, What's Up?

As you see below, I just posted another camera review. It's been a few months, but, that doesn't mean that I haven't been shooting. I'm posting most of my photos to Flickr now. My day to day activities are typically survival mode (work, sleep, eat, work, sleep, eat). I got tired of complaining about politics and decided to do something about it. I met someone running for congress in my district and will be volunteering for her. My incumbent congressman really has to go. Ever since he rose to party leadership, he lost touch with the people he's supposed to represent. He's become too comfortable to be a good politician. I'll write more on that as things develop.

Olympus Stylus Epic

I was cleaning out my basement when I came across my old Olympic Stylus. This was one of my first favorite cameras. I hadn't seen it in years and thought I had thrown it out or sold it. In short, I thought that it was lost to me forever. Well, there it was, with a dead battery and a 24 exposure roll of Fujicolor Superia 200 in it. The first thing I wanted to do, of course was finish up this old roll of film. I put a new battery in the camera and it started right up.

The Stylus Epic was introduced in 1997 as part of Olympus' popular Stylus line of 35mm cameras. Olympus made some terrific, clever 35mm compact cameras. The stylus cameras from this era had gorgeous, artistic lines and a funky sliding clamshell cover. I've already told you about my Trip 35. Other Stylus models had zoom lenses, but the Epic has a fast and sharp fixed Olympus 35mm f2.8 lens. Not only is it a great lens, but the lack of a zoom mechanism allows the camera to keep it's pocket size. The shape of the body is very attractive and helps you easily slip it into a pocket, but I prefer the leather belt pouch. The plastic body is covered in a nice, creamy gold paint. The shutter button is gold colored. The camera turns on by putting open the clamshell cover and turns off by closing it. The back door has a window to let you know what kind of film you have loaded. The viewfinder is surprisingly clear. When closed, the shell protects everything in the front of the camera, the lens, the viewfinder, and the light and focus sensors.

The camera is very simple. It has a smart multi-point auto focus The controls in the back include buttons for flash modes and a self-timer. It has "quartzdate", which allows the camera to imprint the date on the film, which would show up on one of the lower corners of your prints. This was a thing in the nineties. You don't want to use it.

It has a "panorama" switch, which causes two plastic leaves to block out the top and bottom sections of the film. Film is rewound by pressing a little button with a tip of a pen. And that's all the camera does. No crazy modes, just a simple little pleasant point and shoot which looks really nice.

So, I was shooting a roll of film that was at least ten years out of date and probably more, so I didn't have a clue as to how the pictures would come out. I thought that it would be interesting to surprise myself. The washed out colors of the expired film gave the photos a wonderful vintage look which I love.

Steampunk World's Fair 2017

The 2017 Steampunk World Fair was on the weekend of Friday, May 5-7. It took me a while to settle on what camera I wanted to take, but, I finally decided to dress up my FE2. With a couple of brass pieces, it doesn't look out of place, in fact, most participants who have cameras with them carry around their usual modern black polycarbonate wonders. I wanted my camera to become part of my new steampunk persona, the high-adventuring magazine photographer, Jersey Jack. I didn't do anything permanent to the FE2 and I'm in the process of steampunking a camera that looks a little more worn for Jersey Jack. This is much too pretty.

I took four rolls of Ilford XP2 with me. I brought one lens ( a Nikon 50mm series E), and a Tiffen soft focus filter. The series E lenses were made by Nikon in the late seventies and early eighties for their compact consumer SLRs. The 50mm series E is a bargain today. They are very sharp, and can be found on Ebay for $50 all day.

The theme for this year's SPWF was "The Fires of Inspiration" and steampunk's neo-Victorianism goes perfectly with photography. The 1880's until the turn of the 20th century was a time when photography first began to be taken seriously as a fine art form under giants of the craft like Hoboken native Alfred Stieglitz. The ethereal quality of the work they created is a great source of inspiration for an aspiring photographer.

The SPWF takes place in and around the Radison and Embassy Suites hotels in Piscataway, NJ. This was the view of the atrium my floor in the Embassy. The atrium in the Embassy is one of my favorite spaces, it's a good place for a Victorian promenade.

Eric, one several friends from college who always shows up to this event.

SPWF is a festival with artists and all kids of live acts, one of my favorites is Emperor Norton's Stationary Marching Band. In addition to their scheduled concerts, they are known for their late night dance parties under the hotel car ports. Their arrangements mix funk and carnival music.

In most of the night shots, my shutter speed was way to slow, even when shooting wide open. The motion blur on this one looks semi-interesting, though. If I try this again, I'll experiment with pushing the XP2 up to 800 asa.  

Electric violin and a wearable speaker.

Nicole Py is the photographer from The Devil's Darkroom studio, specializing in wet plate photographs. She hand mixes her chemicals, coats metal or glass photographic plates with silver emulsion, and then develops the exposed plates under the dark tent seen behind her.

Nicole's final ferrotype image of me. I think that next year I will go back for another. Photo credit: Nicole Py, The Devils Darkroom https://www.thedevilsdarkroom.com/

Belly dancer and band.

Stephanie, a paramedic on staff at the event.

Nighttime concert with ENSMB and This Way To The Egress.

She reminded me of the Borg Queen...And speaking of Star Trek...

Inside and outside, there are plenty of vendors where you can purchase top hats, goggles, brass gears, custom leather crafts and other great items.

In line for a hamburger, I met Her Grace, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryan, First of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea,The Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, and Queen of Mereen. I like the arm tattoo.

From the glass elevator, I saw her on the floor of the embassy promenading in her shimmering hoop dress and endeavored to catch up with her.

This kid didn't seem at all interested in what was happening on the stage.

The crazy looking contraption is a vehicle of some sort.

Very Mad Max looking.

And, finally, Steampunk with lightsaber.

Camera for the rest of us review: Pentax P3, a handy little classic

This particular camera has a story. My friends Alan and Mary owned a flower shop where I worked for for 12 years. This was the "shop camera". The portfolio for their wedding work was shot with this camera and a nice off-camera flash gun. Eventually, Al and Mary got tired of the business, Al took online classes to complete his BFA in film and television, and, we all lined up jobs offering health and retirement benefits which this small business couldn't afford. I ended up selling coffee. Alan handed me this camera and the flash when we closed shop back in 2001 or 2002.

The Pentax P3 was a consumer grade film SLR in the 1980s. Unlike the use for three years and throw away DSLRs of today, even the pedestrian camersas of the '70s and '80s were build to last. The bottom plate and the film door are both made of metal. The rest of the body is hard plastic. Not scary-flimsy plastic, though, this camera can take some hard knocks...and it has. It is manual focus only. Exposure is either full-manual or a full-automatic program setting which sets both the aperture and shutter speed for you. The P3 is one of the easiest cameras to shoot manual with. Actual and recommended shutter speeds are matched in the viewfinder by bright, easy to read LEDs. The shutter speed wheel is easily manipulated with just the right index finger without taking the camera from your eye..

The Pentax professional model at the time was the LX, the P3 was aimed at beginners, hobbyists, and snapshooters. ISO is set via the film's DX coding only. there is no override. Also, It has program automatic, but no aperture priority. The lack of aperture priority is no big loss, though, manual exposure is easy to accomplish if you are looking to control depth of field. The shutter speed wheel is easily moved with just the right index finger without taking one's eye off the viewfinder. To set the camera to program, you simply move the aperture ring on the lens until it lock in the "A" position.

I have the kit lens which is the SMC Pentax-A 50mm f/2. Pentax has several fine 50mm lenses, this one got the least respect. Manual focusing with AF lenses is fine, but it's not what they are made for. A real manual focus lens like this 50mm is smooth, accurate and feels really nice to use. Because of the fast aperture of the lens, the bright LEDs in the viewfinder, and the P3's low profile, this is a camera I would not hesitate to put 400 or 800 film in and take out for nighttime street photography.

Features:
Manual Focus
Manual Exposure/Program Autoexposure
Shutter speeds up to 1/100 sec. 1/100 sec flash sync
AE Lock
Depth of field Preview

The Pentax P3 is a small, lightweight, but solid little manual camera. It's not pretty like my Nikons, but, it works well. It's good to throw in a backpack or to take with you when weight and compactness is a priority, which is most of the time for most of us who have no interest in schlepping a professional "on assignment" kit around.

Photos shot on Ilford XP-2 Super 400

The highlights on all of the shots on this roll were very slightly over exposed,. I brought the average exposure down just a little in Photoshop.

These kids were playing 1960s garage rock and some AC/DC. I'm glad to see that good taste in music is not completely lost on the new generation.

GOT overview and Writing Exercise: The Battle of the Bastards" as witnessed by Maester Wylam Crandal who was there.

After much work, we are pleased to announce that the manuscript known as "The Crandal Manuscript" has finally been restored and translated. It was found in surprisingly good condition given it's age, and most of the words have been recovered. It is apparently an eyewitness account of a battle for which we have no other actual history. The author mentions the onset of an unusually brutal winter, so, it is our suggestion to examine know tree ring data for potential dates for this so-called "Battle of the Bastards". There are also some clues in the manuscript which may lead us to the site if we can get funding for a search. I believe recognition is in order for our entire team for their tireless efforts on this project. Enclosed is the full translation.

JCF

Introduction

   To my brothers in knowledge at The Citadel, I have endeavored to write as true an account of the battle outside Winterfell, known in The North as the Battle of the Bastards, as I can manage. My report to you will be based on my own observations as a witness, as well as interviews with the participants. If The Seven give their blessing to my endeavor, in the years to come, when these events have faded into history, we should posses an accurate understanding of what had transpired here.
   The rulers at Winterfell have ordered that no ravens be sent regarding the transfer of power in The North, but, by the time that this correspondence reaches you, it will surely have been preceded by rumors. It took several weeks for this report to be compiled, given my other duties here, and it will take as many months for it to travel the length of the continent and reach you (if you receive it at all). I sent it along with a wandering crow. I stressed to him that this was Citadel business of the greatest import, but, he seemed an unlettered fellow, and I have no doubt that there is an even chance that this document may find use as privy paper before it reaches Oldtown.
   This Night's Watch brother and Lord Jon Snow spoke for a long while, and from their conversation, I garnered some understanding of the recent events at Castle Black. The Lord Snow, advised the brother to bypass King's Landing, go straight on to Oldtown, and, when there, to look up one of their own who is studying at The Citadel. The stated reason for avoiding King's Landing was the unpredictable political situation there, but, I am of the opinion that Jon Snow wishes to control any information about the situation in The North which reaches the Iron Throne.
It saddens me to confirm that Maester Aemon, one of our most respected members, has recently passed on at the age of one hundred and two.

The True Account of the Battle of the Bastards

Prologue

   I, Wylam Crandal, a maester of The Citadel, serving at Bear Island for many years, did go with that tiny force led by lady Lyanna Mormont to Winterfell. House Mormont has been the most loyal Stark banner for a thousand years. My purpose in going with the war party was to attend to the wounded and injured. I had with me my medicines, but, also saws, tourniquets and other ghastly tools of surgical trade.
   How Winterfell, the ancient seat of House Stark, since the age of the First Men came into the possession of House Bolton has been written of by others, and I will not go into that here, but I will touch on what has happened since. Lady Sansa Stark, the elder daughter of Eddard Stark, who was residing in The Eyrie had been given to Roose Bolton's legitimized bastard, Ramsey Bolton, the former Ramsey Snow, in marriage. The marriage was intended to legitimize Bolton rule over The North. Sansa Stark had gone unwillingly into this marriage, and the legendary cruelty of the mad Lord Ramsey finally caused her to escape. She leapt from the high walls of the castle into the deep snow with Ramsey's much abused servant, Theon Greyjoy. This is the same Theon Greyjoy who briefly held Winterfell on behalf of the Ironborn and who was raised with Lady Sansa and her siblings as Lord Eddard's captive and ward. She flew to Castle Black where her kinsman, Jon Snow was the Lord Commander. On Lady Sansa's way to Castle Black, she acquired the services of the famed swordswoman Lady Brienne of Tarth, and her squire Podrick Payne. Theon Greyjoy then left the small party to go back to his home on the isle of Pyke.
   Not much is written about Jon Snow. He was born in the south at the end of Robert's Rebellion. Eddard Stark insisted that the infant Jon Snow was his son, but, the mother's name, country, or even if she was of high birth or low has remained a secret to all including the boy. The babe was was first seen with Lord Eddard shortly after the famous fight at the Tower of Joy. Jon Snow was raised in Winterfell and joined the Night's Watch in the last year of our beloved King Roberts reign. House Stark's tradition of sending it's noble sons to serve at The Wall is as old as The Watch.  Jon Snow served as valet and aide to Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and, he, himself, eventually rose to the position of 998th Lord Commander. Lord Commander Snow was famous, or infamous, for opening the gates of Castle Black to the King Beyond The Wall, Mance Rayder, and his wildlings, recruiting their warriors, and allowing the families to settle in The Gift. He also sent a fleet into Hardhome to evacuate that town before it was over-run by whitewalkers. I, myself, was skeptical of the whitewalker claims, but I have later interviewed enough wildlings to become convinced of the veracity of the tale.

A short note: "King Beyond The Wall" is a bit of a misnomer, since The Freefolk, as the wildlings call themselves, have no true kings in the sense that we know kings. The Freefolk kneel before no man, and they chose to follow who they will based solely on a potential leader's talents, not through force of heredity. I shall continue to use the name Freefolk for these people in the rest of this report.

   In response for bringing the Freefolk south of The Wall, Lord Commander Snow was killed in a mutiny, but was brought back from the dead by a priestess of R'hollor named Melesandre who had some influence on Stannis Baratheon and his queen, and was residing at Castle Black after the loss of the Baratheon army outside Winterfell. Some followers of this strange religion have been known to possess the skill of reviving the dead. I have interviewed Lady Melesandre for this report. She insists that only her god, the Lord of Light is capable of bringing someone back from the dead, and that, as his servant, she is only a means for him to accomplish his will, and if it wasn't the Lord of Light's will, Jon snow would have remained dead in spite of her efforts.
   The conspirators were eventually all hanged, and Jon Snow, using the fact that he technically died at his post claims to be free of his vow to serve the watch for life. I am hard pressed to fault the legality of his logic. The de-facto Lord Commander at Castle Black is presently Eddison (doloruus Edd) Tollett. When Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, and Ser Davos Seaworth (Stannis Baratheon's former hand, and now friend to the Stark cause), arrived on Bear Island, Jon snow was wearing the Valyrian sword Longclaw, which I have seen many times, since it was given to Lord Snow by it former owner, Jeor Mormont.
   The flight of lady Sansa was only the first of several events that made the conflict inevitable. Lord Roose Bolton's lady wife, Walda Frey, gave birth to a son. As Roose Bolton's true born son, the babe's existence threatened Ramsey's inheritance. The abominable Ramsey killed his father with a dagger and sent the unfortunate Walda and the babe into the kennels to be eaten alive by his brutish, man-eating hounds, thus claiming the castle for himself. Smalljohn Umber then arrived at Winterfell and presented Ramsey with the last surviving Prince of Winterfell, Rickon Stark, who had been in hiding at Last Hearth, for the purpose of sealing an alliance against Jon Snow's wildlings, whom he feared. Thus, Ramsey Bolton had in his possession the last true born male heir of House Stark known to still live. With this, Ramsey Bolton sent a message to Jon Snow threatening to attack Castle Black and promising every manner of depravity. No man, lord or king, has ever threatened to attack the Night's Watch before this date.
   If the things that the witnesses to Hardhome say are even half true, then horrors not seen since The Long Winter are close upon us and the realms of the living will need a Warden of the North more sober than Ramsey Bolton. Thus the decision to end Ramsey Bolton's hold on Winterfell was inevitable. The Starks would fight for the honor of their house, the rescue of their brother, and revenge for the red wedding. The Freefolk would fight for nothing less than a land on which to farm and heard, and the very survival of their people.
   Sansa Stark presently sent Lady Brienne to her cousin, Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully, to request his help. The stubborn Blackfish was holding Riverrun against a siege by the Freys and the Lannisters at the time and refused to budge, which kept the Tullys out of the war for The North. Lady Sansa, Lord Jon Snow, and Ser Davvos Seaworth traveled the north lands attempting to raise what remained of House Stark's old banners, which brought the trio to Bear Island. And, thus we found ourselves encamped on the wind swept grass near Winterfell.

The Battle of the Bastards

Brothers, I shall now describe to you the bloody horrors that I witnessed in this grim land where I loyally serve.

The day before the battle, the war leaders of each side met upon their horses on the frozen field between their forces for the required parlay where each side delivers terms that the other cannot accept, but, which must be done for the sake of appearances. With Jon Snow was Lady Sansa Stark, Ser Davos Seaworth, Lady Lyanna Mormont, and the chieftain of the Freefolk, Tormond Giantsbane. With Lord Ramsey were members of houses Umber and Karstark. The banners of Stark and Bolton fluttered in the frozen wind. The words of those individuals involved was reported to me as follows:

   Treacherous Lord Ramsey spoke first, with ringing voice, and he said "My beloved wife, I've missed you terribly. Thank you for returning lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army and declare me the true lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, you don't have Winterfell. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There's no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I'm a man of mercy".
   The white wolf, brave, beleaguered  Lord Jon spoke next, a true northern accent coming forth from his his throat. "You're right, there's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die. Only one of us. Let's end this the old way; you against me."
   Lord Ramsey then replied "I keep hearing stories about you, bastard, The way the people in the North talk about you, you are the greatest swordsman that ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I'd beat you. But, I know that my army will beat yours. I have six thousand men. You have, what, half that? Not even?
   Lord Jon then said "Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you would not fight for them?
   Lord Ramsey pointed and said "He's good, very good", and turning to fiery haired Lady Sansa, said, Would you let your little brother die because you are too proud to surrender?"
   Lady Sansa then spoke and asked "How do we know that you have him?" Smalljohn Umber, hairy and brutish, then reached into a sack tied to a saddle and threw the great head of a black direwolf on the frozen ground. lady Sansa looked at Lord Ramsey with cold, blue eyes and said "You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well". She then turned her horse and rode away.
   Lord Ramsey turned to Lord Jon and said "She's a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed. And you're all fine looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you. I haven't fed them in seven days, they're ravenous. I wonder which parts they'll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We'll find out soon enough. In the morning then, bastard". The heathen, Bolton, and his men then turned their horses toward Winterfell.

   The Stark battle plan was a good one. They were to stay in position and allow the petulant Lord Ramsey to attack, Trenches the Stark forces had dug would direct the Bolton cavalry into a narrow area in the center. The Stark center would then fall back allowing the Bolton cavalry to pursue. The Starks would then envelope the Boltons on three sides. It was a good, solid, classic plan of battle that no-one learned in the arts of war could argue against.
   This was the plan devised at the Stark war council the night before the battle. Lord Jon, Lady Sansa, Ser Davos, and the Giantsbane present. When the council ended and the two siblings were alone, lady Sansa spoke. "You've known him for the span of a single conversation you and your trusted advisers, and you sit around making plans to defeat the man you do not know. I've lived with him. I know the way his mind works. I know how he likes to hurt people. Did it ever once occur to you that I might have some insight.If you think he'll fall into your trap, he won't. He's the one who lays traps. he plays with people, he's far better at it than you. He's been doing it all his life. You don't know him.
   Lord Jon then said. "Alright tell me. What should we do? How do we get Rickon back".
   Lady Sansa, her clear voice lower did say "We'll never get him back. Rickon is Ned Stark's true born son, which makes him a greater threat to Ramsey than you, a bastard, or me, a girl. As long as he lives, Ramsey's claim to Winterfell will be contested, which means he won't live long. Listen to me, please, he want's you to make a mistake. I don't know anything about battles, just don't do what he want's you to do. If Ramsey wins, I'm not going back there alive. Do you understand me?
Jon Said "I won't let him touch you. I will protect you".
   Sansa's last words before exiting the tent were "No one can protect me. No one cans protect anyone". Then she walked out into the cold. As we shall see, Jon Snow should have kept all of  this sisterly advice in mind.

Outside, Ser Davos walked the beyond the camp and came across the remains of a pyre. Amongt the charred wood, he found the remains of a toy stag, which he recognized, for he had carved it himself and given it to Stannis Baratheon's young daughter, Shireen for whom he had fatherly affection. The priestess Melesandre had convinced the proud Lord Stannis (or King Stannis, depending on your point of view) that he was the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, and that his victory was necessary to save the realms of the living from the long night. She also convinced him that victory could only be assured through the sacrifice of royal blood. Thus, Princess Shireen was tied to a stake upon a pyre and her innocent life burned away.

   Thus, the Stark and the Bolton forces would array against each other on the hard, frosted grassland outside the walls of ancient Winterfell. The savage Boltons had left flayed prisoners burning upside down on crosses in the middle of the field. The Stark army numbered just over 2,400 men. The bulk of the army composed of 2,000 Freefolk led by their chieftain Tormund Giantsbane.  Also on the Stark side were 200 men of house Hormwood, 143 men of house Mazin, and 62 ferocious fighting men from house Mormont brought by lady Lyanna. Ser Davos Seaworth served as second-in command.
   With the Freefolk was the giant Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, also known simply as Wun Wun who stood as tall as a weirwood tree and who's chest was as thick as a weirwood's trunk. The old cliche says that there is always some grain of truth in legends There is always some truth to legends Your humble chronicler had believed that giants must have been some ancient hairy, creatures who may be now lost to time, or may even still exist in the deepest forests, but, having no contact with modern men. Thus, they would became larger in men's minds as stories about them were told. Then, I met and spoke with the mighty Wun Wun, and now know the truth that giants are as real and intelligent as you and I.
   The Bolton army numbered 6,000 men. 5,000 men from house Bolton, 500 men from house Karstark commanded by Lord Harold Karstark, and 500 men from house Umber commanded by Lord Smalljohn Umber.
   Missing from the battle were Houses Manderly, Glover, and Cerwyn who refused to raise their armies. Also missing was Lady Brienne of Tarth, who was traveling back north from her failed mission at Riverrun. Ramsey Bolton left his horrible curs out of the battle. Likewise, did Lord Snow leave out his terrifying white direwolf, Ghost.
  Lord Ramsey brought forth young Rickon Stark, cut the ropes holding him and made him run across the field to his brother. Rickon ran as lord Ramsey loosed arrows from his longbow, intending to miss, toying with the young man, and with his brother, at the other end of the field. Jon Snow, brave and foolish, jumped atop his great black steed and charged across the field towards Rickon. When he reached his beloved brother, one of Ramsey's arrows found it's mark and pierced the young man's body and he fell, breathing his last breath on the cold ground.
    Jon Snow found himself alone on the field, equally distant from his own lines and from his enemy's, his choice to charge forth, or retreat back to his army. As the Bolton archers loosed their first volley, he spurred his charger forward. Ser Davos ordered the Stark cavalry and Freefolk to charge, and carefully laid plans blew away in a frigid northern wind. Jon Snow's horse was laid low by an arrow. He arose, and, throwing belt and scabbard aside, drew Longclaw. Ramsey Bolton ordered his light horse to charge therupon.

   From my vantage point a safe distance from the fray, I saw a man standing alone between the two charging armies awaited the fate which the gods had decided for him, when suddenly the forces collided all around him. Bolton arrows continued to rain upon the men as they fought, bringing low men and horses on both sides, as Ramsey Boton sacrificed the lives of his own men for the chance to kill Stark men and Freefolk. Men who had their screaming horses shot from under them continued to fight on foot. I saw Jon Snow in the midst of the chaos, fighting with skill and fury. Once before, as a much younger man, did I see a knight wield a sword in battle with such fury and shadowcat-like prowess, and that knight was no less than Prince Rhegar, himself. Ser Davos, unwilling to shoot his own men as Lord Ramsey, ordered his archers to drop their bows, pick up swords, and charge.
  Like Jon Snow, the great kings and princes of the age fight from the front, so their men can see them and take heart knowing that their lord is at their sides. One such prince was beloved King Robert who, with his great hammer, relished in the fury of battle. With Lord Ramsey, I saw something new and different. He stayed in the back, ordering his forces here and there like a Cyvasse master controlling the board from above. Craven, for sure, but a much more efficient use of a commander's time, for it allowed him to see everything at once, and command with flexibility.
   Arrows from Bolton longbows continued to darken the sky. Bodies of the dead piled up on the field as great, gruesome barrow mounds. Men's blood melted the frosted ground which turned to mud. Lord Ramsey ordered his infantry to enter the battle next. This included the northern screamers of houses Umber and Karstark, and the spearmen of house Botlon who were disciplined solders of a kind rarely seen in the north.with great shields.
   The Bolton spearmen surrounded the Stark banners and the Freefolk, forming a half circle and locked their shields. Jon Snow's men found themselves with a phalanx on three sides and a mountain of the dead to their rear. Men battered themselves against the shield wall in desperation. Wun Wun threw man and shield and spear aside, only to see them replaced. Smalljohn Umber led his northerners over the hill of the dead, attacking Jon Snow's rear. Still living men trapped on this heap moaned ans screamed.
   The Bolton infantry then closed the half-ring of shields and spears tighter. Spearmen moved not as separate men, but as a single wall of steel. It was an alien tactic for this frozen land and seemed borrowed from the ancient armies of Essos.
  Jon Snow's army became a desperate press of men unable to move. With my own eyes, I did see John Snow disappear below the writhing human sea. I am told that in the crush, Tormond Giantsbane and Smalljohn umber found each other and the Giantsbane did put a dagger of sharpened antler through the Smalljohn's neck, his life leaking out of him in a pool of red. The battle was lost. The united cause of the Starks and the Freefolk was perishing with every last man who fought for it in the cold mud outside Winterfell. I then heard the blare of trumpets echo over the rolling hills of the northern plain. The  Knights of the Vale had entered the battle.
   Some weeks earlier, Lady Sansa had sent a raven to Lord Pyter Baelish who was commanding the Arryn forces holding Moat Cailin on behalf of Lady Sansa's cousin, the young Lord Robert Arryn, and, so, Lord Baelish led his men north. The Knights of the Vale rode over the hill in their martial magnificence, their bright eagle and moon banners flying proudly in glorious blue and white against the dreadful grey north sky. The Arryn heavy horse smashed through the Bolton shield wall from the rear. With the collapse of the shield wall, the battle turned quickly. From a distance, I saw the unmistakable red hair of Lady Sansa who sat atop her horse on a hill with Lord Baelish on her right and Lord Yohn Royce on her left.
   Lady Sansa had pleaded repeatedly of her brother not to commit to the battle until he had more men. His reply had always been the same. There are no more men, we fight with the army that we have. I approached the lady some time after the battle and asked her why she did not inform Lord Snow that she had secured these reinforcement and that they were on their way. I did not get an answer.
   The craven Ramsey Bolton retreated behind the great gate of Winterfell with his generals, leaving the men who fought so bravely for him to be slaughtered to the last man like so many bleating sheep. Jon Snow, the mighty Wun Wun and Tormond Giantsbane, and a small band pursued on foot. I followed.
   When I reached the outer ward of the ancient castle, it's gate had been smashed to pieces by the giant who had finally fallen for the last time, feathered by dozens of arrows. Bodies of Bolton men lay strewn throughout the courtyard. Jon Snow dropped Longclaw and lifted a shield decorated with the Mormont bear, and ran towards his enemy who shot arrow after arrow into the shield. Jon Snow broke Ramsey's jaw with the shield and jumped atop him. In a dark rage, he turned the mad lord's face into so much ground mutton with his bare fists.
  What remained of Ramsey Bolton was found the next morning in Winterfell's kennel, eaten alive by his own dogs. It is suggested that it was Lady Sansa who unleashed the starved curs upon him, but no one is sure. What is known is that the line of house Bolton died that day for all time.

Epilogue

  The pyres burned for many days after, the stench of roasting man-flesh invading one's nose and never leaving. Burned were the bodies of wasted men who will never again look into a sweetheart's eyes, or feel soft, tilled soil between their fingers. The common people do suffer so when the higher-born decide to fight to posses this castle or that castle, or to call themselves wardens of one thing or another. The glory of warfare is lost on those who must afterward put together the broken bodies and mumble some philosophical nonsense to men with broken souls.  I busied myself with stitching wounds, sawing limbs, and carrying the arms and legs which I stole to the fires.

   Lady Melesandre was banished from The North for her aforementioned crimes on the day the lords of the great northern houses met in the great hall at Winterfell, including those who stayed out of the war. Lady Lyanna Mormont arose and said these words: 

  "Your son was butchered ad the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly, but you refused the call. You swore Allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need you refused the call. And, you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsey Bolton, still, you refused the call.  But, House Mormont Remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in The North who's name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard, Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king until his last day".

Lord Manderly rose next and said. "Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the young wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause because I didn't want more Manderleys to die for nothing. But, I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is The White Wolf, the King in The North". Harold Glover did rise and with a great oath, did rise next and pledge his fealty and, at that, all the men rose, lifted their swords and shouted greatly. This is how kings rise in this country, not in golden ceremonies with crowns and septons, but raised swords and great shouts of "The King in The North!".

Game of Thrones 6-10 "The Winds of Winter". Review of the season finale.

The Tale of the Rat Cook

One of the long abandoned fortresses lining The Wall is The Nightfort. Long ago, when The Night's Watch still held the Nightfort, the Andal king came to visit with his son. In response to some slight, the cook murdered the king's son and baked him into a pie. He then fed the pie to the king. The king loved the taste of the pie so much, he asked for a second slice. The Old Gods were outraged at the cook. They punished the cook by turning him into a great white rat unable to eat anything but his own young. And he is always famished, doomed to forever eat his own children. The gods did not punish the cook for murder, or for turning the king into a cannibal, but for harming a guest under his own roof. Some say that the Rat Cook still lives at the Nightfort.

This fairie-tale is told to children in the north to teach them never to violate the law of guest-right, which the Northmen hold more sacred than any other law. Arya Stark of Winterfell would have heard this tale many times from her nurse, Old Nan. Thus it was that when Arya Stark arrived at The Twins, she wore the face of a serving girl and cooked the sons of Lord Walder Frey into a pie and served it to him before killing him; for he had murdered the King In the North, who was a guest under his roof.

Meanwhile, Brandon Stark, who is now the last Greenseer, follows Ned Stark into The Tower of Joy, and we follow him, and we finally learn the thing that we thought we knew, but needed to learn for sure...

Which brings us to Jon, who has a long needed family conversation with Sansa on the battlements of Winterfell before meeting his lords bannermen where the surviving great houses of The North pledge themselves to Winterfell. It is here that Lady Mormont rises and says. "I know no king but the King in the North, and his name is Stark". The meeting of the northern lords puts a crimp in Littlefinger's plans to sit on the Iron Throne with Sansa at his side, but those plans will be soon enough be completely dashed by the Targaryan queen sailing from across the sea. 

My first thought upon hearing the cheers of "The King in the North" was, "Oh, shit, he's fucked". But, Jon is more ready than Robb was and has Sansa's hard earned wisdom to turn to, if he will listen to it. When the time comes to marriage, I might suggest doing the safe Targaryan thing and just marrying his cousin to ensure a Stark heir. We already know he likes readheads.

And what of Jon Snow, who's Stark blood comes, not through Eddard, but, lady Lyanna Stark? How does this affect his claim to be the King in the North? With two Stark sons dead, and one a green-seer Winterfell Falls upon either Jon or Sansa, and either one has earned their place. How will Jon learn of his lineage? There are three possibilities. We know from the books that Bran has the ability to communicate with people through the Weirwood tees, and could talk to Jon and Sansa in Winterfell's Godswood. Sam could dig up the true story of of The Tower of Joy at the library in The citadel. Thirdly, there is still one living witness to the Tower of Joy, Lord Howland Reed.

Fun Game of Thrones fact:

On her days off, Lyanna Mormont enjoys making Chuck Norris cry like a baby.

So, how DID Varys return from Dorne to Meereen so quickly? Maybe he didn't, and maybe it wasn't really so quick. To be fair, he may have caught up with the Targaryan fleet any place between Sunspear and Meereen. Also, he amount of time covered by an episode can be very long. We often see journeys of several months contained in a single episode, such as Jon and Sansa's traveling the length and breadth of The North to raise their banners.

Meanwhile, in Kings's Landing:

I know that there is a theory going around that Tyrion is really the son of Aerys II, but if anyone in House Lannister is a Targayan, it has to be Jamie and Cersei. Cersei is just too bonkers not to be one. At Baelor's Sept, Margaery, realizing that the jig is up, says "We all have to leave, Now!", but the High Sparrow, who has been waiting to become a martyr, looks upon her with pity. His look simply said "Poor girl, don't you understand?". Tommen, unable to protect his Margaery,  unable to protect his subjects, unable to cope with his failure as a king, throws himself out his tower window. Cersei gets the power that she always wanted, but, heavy is the head that wears the crown. And Jamie, who took upon himself the title of oathbreaker to keep Areys from using wildfire on the city saw his own sister use it. What must he be thinking? This must be the time when he realizes his relationship with Cersei is poison and refuses to protect her anymore. he didn't look happy to be back.

Camera for the Rest of Us Review: Nikon F3

In a digital world, why would anyone still shoot film anymore? 

Film slows you down. Film may be cheep, but just knowing that you only only have 36 shots inside your camera at a time makes you think differently. You look at the image in your viewfinder the way a painter looks at his canvas, making sure that all the various pieces of the composition are just where you want them to be. You make sure that your exposure is correct, and then you take one shot and move on to another subject.

With manual cameras, the tactile feedback of handling something mechanical with knobs, levers and gears makes you feel like you are communicating with your machine at a personal level.

My F3 with one of my newest lens acquisitions, a used, but almost mint Nikkor 50mm 1.4 AIS.

I was snapping with 110 format instamatics until my first real camera a lovely little Minotla XG series manual SLR, which got me through an undergrad photography course and a trip out west. After college, I traded that in for a Nikon N6006. I thought that the Nikon was amazingly capable, but I also missed the old Minolta.
In the mid 1990s, One of the many things I considered in my lost years fresh out of college was to go pro with my photography, which I never did. I was looking into newspaper careers. I wanted to be Weegee. I was a gearhead, I bought everything, I thought that "real" photographers looked something like Dennis Hopper in "Apocalypse Now".

During this time, the professionals and the amateur gear freaks had been trading in their Nikon F3s for the new F4s for four or five years, so, a lot of used F3s were in the camera stores even while Nikon was still making new ones. They were everywhere, so, I bought one. I also got a motordrive, a lenses, a ridiculous telephoto zoom for taking pictures of birdies from a mile away, and a big press style camera bag to carry all that crap in. My whole kit sent me to the chiropractor on a regular basis. Also, I had a Banana Republic safari vest with a stupid number of pockets to complete the mister photographer guy look. I still have the bag, the vest, and the birdie lens.

The Banana Republic vest was made back in the 1980s when Banana Republic actually sold cool looking safari shit. Hell, they even had pith helmets. Then they were bought out by The Gap who turned the outfit into another mainstream preppy brand. Somebody needs to buck that trend, the world doesn't need more clones of J.Crew, the world needs more people wearing pith helmets.

The F3 was the Nikon flagship pro camera from 1980 to 1988, when it was superseded by the mighty F4. The F3 still remained in production until 2001 when the F5 was being sold. With a 21 year production run there are many, many out there on the used market today for really good prices. Even the ones that look beat up more than likely work just fine. I bought mine used sometime between 1993 and 1995. According to the serial number, it was already a 10 year old camera at the time I bought it and it has been my favorite camera for twenty years since. So, why am I still shooting a camera that is 30 years old?

It's gorgeous. The F3 is a masterpiece of industrial design. To create it, Nikon recruited designer Giorgetto Giugiaro who's portfolio includes a long list of automobiles including the  original Volkswagen Golf, the DeLorean DMC-12 , and the Lotus Eprit.

Nikon hasn't changed it's basic lens mount since 1959, so any Nikon lens between then and now except for (G) lenses will mostly work on the F3.

This is the camera photojournalists used to take into war zones. It was made for people who had to get the shot, get it fast, and then get out of the way of the flying bullets. The body is a hunk of solid metal. The design is modular; an insane number of interchangeable prisms, film doors, and focusing screens were made for it. The film advance lever has ball bearings and is smoother than any other I have ever tried. The electronic shutter is nothing short of reliable, just keep a pair of extra button batteries in your camera bag. You'll need them eventually, but they last a long time.

It has every feature you can imagine you might need in a manual film camera, and everything is done with nice big levers, switches and dials...like a real camera. It has 80 percent center-weighted metering as apposed to the 60 percent on most cameras which makes it easier to pick out what part of the scene you want to meter without having an actual spot meter. Both the DE-2 and DE-3 prisms allow you to see 100% of what ends up on the film, as opposed to the 80 or 90 percent in a typical SLR, and the viewfinder image is absolutely huge. With the depth of field preview, all of this makes the F3 a great tool for fine art photography.

The Camera is only close to perfect, though. The flash sync is only at 1/80, which might be a turn-off for some, but it doesn't bother me, I almost never use flash. The flash shoe is weird, but, more on that later. Your shutter speed and a (+-) exposure guide is read digitally in the viewfinder with a small LCD. In low light, you can press a small, hard to use button to light up the LCD enough to barely read it, or you can just keep it in aperture priority in low light like I do.

The most common prism, the DE-3, or high-eyepoint finder, which is labeled with the letters HP, allows you to see everything while wearing glasses. An F3 sold with the DE-3 was designated the F3HP. With it, you to stay in the middle of the action without having to press the camera into your face and squint hard into the viewfinder. Since I shoot without glasses, I don't find much difference with the older DE-2 prism which lowers the camera's profile slightly. 

When the F3 was designed, Nikon had not yet figured out how to put a regular hotshoe on interchangeable viewfinders, so the F3 has a freaky flash shoe over the rewind crank. TTL flash exposure is provided by the special Nikon SB-12 speedlight. It's a really nice lightweight flash that can be folded flat and put in a coat pocket.

In continuous mode, The MD-4 motordrive burns through a roll of film in the blink of an eye. It also takes 8 AA batteries and makes your camera feel like it weighs about fifty pounds. I don't use it anymore.

All photos: 

Camera: Nikon F3:

Lens: Nikkor 50mm f1.8

Kodak BW400CN 

This one I cropped slightly

This is a re-shoot of a photo I posted earlier

This one had a bright leaf in the top of the frame that I did not like, so I used the burn tool in Photoshop to remove it.