MJ Maccardini (trailerfullofpix)'s photos with the keyword: scan

At a service station on HIghway 12 outside Delano, Minnesota. On the way to see the biggest ball of twine (made by one man). www.roadsideamerica.com/tips/getAttraction.php?tip_Attrac... See where this picture was taken. [?]

It was Elvis day at the fair. These guys were contestants in the lip sync contest. See where this picture was taken. [?]

Somewhere on Highway 15 in southern Minnesota, after visiting the world's biggest ball of twine (made by one man) in Darwin. See where this picture was taken. [?]

In the sculpture garden at the Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, Minnesota. See where this picture was taken. [?]

Although rare, these creatures still live on the American plains. There's also a European breed that lives in Bavaria, or possibly Belgravia.

This one has shed his antlers. Last seen in 1934, the jackalopus gigantus is now extinct.

This corny postcard was sent to me by healthyrage (an Iowa girl through and through) in 2002.

Over the passageway to the left of St Mary at Hill Church, on the St Mary at Hill Street side of the church, as opposed to the Lovat Lane side and definitely not on Monument Street where Google thinks it is. I initially thought this pediment belonged to the building next to the church, but it turns out to be a part of the church itself. Originally posted to Guess Where London group. See where this picture was taken. [?]

This postcard was sent to me from Arizona in 1976, before the climate change, so global warming doesn't explain this strange mutation. And Photoshop didn't exist back then. My theory is that radiation may have caused the grasshoppers to grow like this, what with all those secret atomic test sites in the southwest deserts.

Many, many years ago -- eons, probably -- this species of mountain trout developed a fur coat to take a bit of the chill off the icy streams in which it lives. Now, global warming has caused the temperature of those streams to rise. Will the trout adapt to its environment once again by shedding its fur coat? Will it swim north to Canada, where it runs the risk of death by boredom? Or will it go the way of the dino and the dodo?

Molly took this photo as Spooner explained the piss trough to me. The center course of bricks fills a space that was once an open sewer. People used to dump their slop buckets into it from the windows and balconies above. That's the Lovat Lane facade of St Mary at Hill just beyond the bicycle on the right. See where this picture was taken. [?]

Back of postcard reads: Nicknamed "Little Miss Sure Shot," Annie traveled many years with Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. Her accuracy with rifle and pistol astounded thousands who flocked to see the show. She once shot a cigarette from the mouth of Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany.

ScribeGirl sent this one to me from Cape Cod in 1999.

Back of postcard reads: Martha Jane Canarray was born in Princeton, Mo. The hard drinking woman wore men's clothing, used their bawdy language, chewed tobacco and was handy with a gun. She traveled from Arizona through the Dakota territories during her rough life. At her death, the "White Devil of the Yellowstone" was remembered as a saint by the citizens of Deadwood, where she helped nurse the sick during a smallpox plague. She is buried near Wild Bill Hickok at Deadwood, S.D.

In the days before television or Photoshop, the farmers in Idaho made their own amusement by challenging each other to grow the juiciest watermelon, the sweetest pear, or the orangest pumpkin. In 1946, Farmer Homer Smith took up the challenge to grow the biggest potato. He spent the long winter in solitary contemplation of this conundrum, and in the spring he put his half-baked theory to the test, employing a combination of careful cross fertilization and liberal application of organic material obtained from the dairy farmer down the road. To the amazement of all, he harvested this whopper in the fall. Being both illiterate and furtive, Farmer Smith neither wrote nor spoke of the details of this fantastic accomplishment, and he took the formula with him to the grave. For a brief time, his cousin Arthur, an insurance agent with a keen eye for a growth industry, had his own success selling potato damage insurance to local homeowners who feared what one of these big guys could do if it rolled off a flatbed truck and into their front parlor. Alas, a potato this big has never been grown again.

"My ceiling the sky, my carpet the grass."