It's a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack.

Friday, December 4, 2015

It's been queer

I have enjoyed keeping this little blog going since January of last year, but I find that my academic duties -- a recent promotion, thank you for asking -- and other personal projects now demand more time, leaving me less leisure to maintain this site with appropriate regularity. You probably have noticed that posts have become more and more infrequent. This is not because the world has become any less queer, FSM* knows! [I assume you have been following the political campaign in the US of A.] It reflects instead the reality of my limited time.

I hope the handful of folks who dropped by from time to time have found some amusement here and perhaps some necessary distractions from the queer things in our world that are disturbing and that are covered ad nauseum in the "mainstream" media.

At any rate, Daniel and I were discussing several things lately and have agreed that this is an appropriate time for us both to let go of our blogs. 

Thank you for looking in on my queer little world. I hope you find your own to be a delightfully queer place, too.

Your queer friend,
Damien F. Malachy

*FSM refers to the Flying Spaghetti Monster. For more information, see this post.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Not naughty, just nought


Nothing There

Pictured above is Nothing. Yes, there’s some sand or dirt. And a tree or two and some various shrubs. And yes, there’s a sign there, which technically is “something,” but if you look closely the sign says “Nothing.” Nothing isn’t nowhere. It’s somewhere. It’s actually just 22 miles (36 km) southwest of Bagdad.

Here’s a map.
  



The first thing you’ll notice is that Nothing is in Arizona. (You'll also probably notice that the Bagdad it’s close to is spelled differently than the one in Iraq.) It’s a ghost town -- appropriately, no one lives in Nothing. It was founded in 1977 and while its history is unclear, local legend (per Wikipedia) claims that it was named by “a bunch of drunks” which seems about accurate given the jokey name and the similarly jokey welcome sign (below, larger version here) that used to greet visitors. 
 

The next thing you’ll note about Nothing is that there is, actually, something in Nothing. Or, there used to be something -- there was once a gas station which, on its sign, advertised “Nothing Towing.” But nothing lasts forever.

The failure of Nothing shouldn’t be all that surprising, as the town’s name accurately describes what is there insofar as infrastructure is concerned. Nothing isn’t connected the region’s power grid. There is no sewer system nor any sort of municipal water, either. (And given that Nothing is surrounded by federally-owned desert, that last part is a big problem.) But despite these difficulties, Nothing isn't quite in the middle of nowhere. It's off of U.S. Route 93, which connects Las Vegas, Nevada to Phoenix, Arizona; if you're making that relatively-reasonable four and a half hour drive, you're going to pass by Nothing. Combined with the natural tourist attraction that the town's name provides, it seems like there’s alway someone who is trying to make something out of Nothing.

But in general, nothing's doing. The most recent attempt came in 2009, when an entrepreneur restaurateur named Mike Jensen bought the town -- all six acres of it -- and tried to establish a wind and propane-powered pizza joint. (The pizza place should have used the slogan “you’ve tried pizza with nothing on it, now try Nothing with pizza on it!” but alas, I wasn’t consulted.) Unfortunately, Jensen’s plans failed; he estimated that he had to make about $500 a day in Nothing in order to keep the business afloat, but he made closer to nothing.

Today, Nothing is a barren wasteland of dilapidated buildings and, well, nothing else.


Source: The ever-entertaining (and not necessarily queer) Now I Know