My mom just emailed me this image of a postcard she bought on eBay. The photo was taken about 1900 and it shows a hotel and resort on a mountaintop above Altoona, PA. The narrow guage railroad in the shot would bring weekend picnicers from the grimy machine shops in Juniata or wealthy railroad execs to the hotel for ballroom dancing and general revelry.
The connection to me is that the house I grew up in now sits directly between the train and the building in that picture. That hotel burnt down in 1903 and I’m possibly possessed by the ghost of the surly Irish bartender who would occasionally go on drunken murder binges beneath the full moon. It would explain a lot.
Thanks, mom.
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Site of the Day: Bush is a German Groper. He’s like that dude in high school who got caught picking his nose or wetting himself and then turns into a persona non gratis. Everything he does is dorky, by definition, because he is doing it.