Quote:
Originally Posted by BobK
You all have seen the picture of the Shriner carrying the little girl and her crutches. I used to work with the photographer who took that now famous picture. He was the photo editor at the Kentucky Post for awhile. Nice guy, good shooter and editor. The picture was a spur-of-the-moment type thing at the end of the day. He was walking back to his car to go home, saw the scene and just snapped the shot. It just said everything without a word.
|
I got photographed one time at a "Cubs' Day" Boy Scout camp back in the 60s...it ended up on a United Way Campaign Brochure...
Our "pack" had been sent over to the archery range and while we all sat and listened to the ranger officer explain the dos and don'ts of arrows, kids and soft tissue wounds, there was some guy running around shooting pics of us kids...I didn't even pay attention to the guy 'cause I'm thinking I'm about to shoot 5 arrows with real tips at real targets...
My turn comes up along with 4 others from my "den" - we all get up on line, when all of a sudden, this strange guy comes up to me and starts "acting" like I need some sort of help nocking the arrow and getting ready to draw and shoot...he's reaching in on my hands like I'm some uncoordinated 8yo and I'm trying to shoot my 5 arrows with this dorkus in my face and on my back...
My "den" gets their 5 arrows off and I'm still trying to get this creep off from me, when I see this photographer off to the right of me, shooting away and I still have this hands-on creep on my back and trying to mimic my movements like I need some help to pull a 25# draw bow.
Short story getting shortened...I end up getting only ONE F***ING ARROW "off" (about 10' from me) and then we (the "den") have the bows and material taken from us, then we end up heading back to the "pack area" - and I'm pissed like no one knew!!!
I had no idea who sent "Mr. Hands" in towards me for "help" that I didn't need and I'm just steaming mad about the whole situation, but I had no idea who to complain to...and besides, since it was the end of the day, I knew they weren't going to go back to the range just to let me shoot off 4 more arrows...so I gave up being pissed....
Then, about 6 months later...
I'm walking into my class room when all of a sudden, the teachers are out in the hall, then a few come in the classroom and they're looking at/for me...they spy me in the back and instead of saying anything...a few of them start laughing and saying stuff like "He looks just like the picture..."
HUH??? WTFLOCK???
Then, it comes....
The tri-fold brochure for the Fall '66 United Way Campaign, complete with a 6-picture color montage on the front fold featuring various examples of the goods works that the United Way provides funding for...including local Cub Scout groups...and as an example of the local Cub Scouts...little ol' me...8yo, armed and pissed, cottonball in my right ear (I had just finished having middle ear surgery that spring...so the other thing I COULDN'T F'ING DO WAS SWIM THAT SUMMER!!!! (ALSO, ANOTHER NON-EVENT FOR ME AT "CUB DAY" THAT PARTICULAR DAY!!!!)) and some MOFO hanging on me like a wet blanket...I ended up being a poster-boy for some organization I never heard of and I'm willing to bet that that freak that was hanging on me was some member of the UW Organization.
That SOB is lucky he never knew how close he was to being the newly-found representative for the good works United Way provides for arrow-blinded nimrods who piss off 8yos!!
When my mother found out, she went out and got about 30 or 40 of these "brochures" to hand out to friends and neighbors...she didn't even know what had happened...I was so pissed about the incident, I didn't even mention it to her and anyone else, so my mom's going around like this is the greatest thing to happen...
My mother's so proud and all and I'm like "Hey! They pissed me off! Why are you so happy?"
Maybe that's why everyone needs to have "releases" signed before folks go using your image on advertising and such...I don't remember signing anything, but I know I wanted to carve something into the chests of "Mr. Hands" and his photographer-friend...
Ahhh...I feel better....
Now I know why I have these adverse feelings towards the United Way...
Time to see a therapist...
