Okay, so maybe it IS just another dorky self-portrait. What are you going to do about it? Sue me? Fly to Nantes and challenge me to a fight? Complain? Well, as my father used to say, “The Complaint Department isn’t open.”
In all my life I have never located the Complaint Department, let alone heard that it was ever open. On a similar subject, I’ve never tasted ends meat, either, even though I’m from Nebraska. I figured it was some kind of end cut on the cow. So it never really made sense to me when my mom would say, “I don’t know how we can make ends meat.” Did we make it or eat it?
But I digress.
Today’s photo, I took yesterday. And it’s important because I’m standing on the finish line at the Nantes racetrack, taking a picture of my reflection in the photo finish mirror. That’s the grandstand of the racetrack in the reflection behind me. I’m smiling because well, the Complaint Department has had no reason to be open, as far as I’m concerned, and if ends meat tastes anything like confit de canard, it’s got to be good.
Now if I can only fit some of that ends meat in my suitcase.