The White Buffalo...

Today, while wasting time wasting time looking at i09.com, I was reminded of this amazing piece of taxidermy found at that the Montana Historical Society in Helena.

So a quick few things about White Buffalo, I don't recall all of the history of this particular animal, nor do I recall all of the folklore behind white buffalo in Native American culture, but pop culture has their birth to be a sign of either omen or change. X-files taught me that. 

However, one must note that this isn't an "albino buffalo." Or at least not from the taxidermy mount displayed. Instead it is most likely a melanistic representation of the animal. The difference between albinism and melansim has to do with genetics mutations and phenotype expressions. Basically, that every once in a while you may see a squirrel with a darker color fur or a black bear that really looks brown or an Japanese man such as myself that looks like he could be from Mexico, Iran, India, The Rez, or any place other than Japan. Simply put, sometimes animals will appear white but not be true albinos. The truth is in the pink of their eyes…True albinism will lead to the classic pink-hued irises we see in lab rats, bunnies, and those really strange looking gold (well not really gold) fish. 

And yes, some geneticist or other biologist will probably come along and correct all of the above writings…But it doesn't really matter. Because, you know what? The real meat of this post is about one thing.

GIANT EFFING BUFFALO KILLING PEOPLE!!!

So yeah…

Is this bronze skull from one of these mega beasts? I am convinced that things are actually bigger in Montana than they are in North Dakota, so logic therefore leads to one conclusion.

Yes.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: What is the Miracle of America?

What is the Miracle of America?

Good question? One that I have often asked myself since learning my basic American history about how the first Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, escaping evil tyranny in England. Yes, we all know that the first thing they declared their right not not pay taxes to high ranking wealthy officials named George, declared their right to own all the weapons in the world because they could, and then have Thanksgiving.

But how miraculous is that? Not very if you ask me…

You see, I look for modern day miracles...Like that finding that potato chip that looks like Alf when every other chip is crumbled in the bag. Or when they decide to do remakes of classic television shows like Small Wonder.

But in Polson, MT, you can experience your own tiny bit of the Miracle of America, and its true meaning tied to the history of this country by straddling a bomb and re-inacting scenes from Dr. Strangelove.

Now that is a miracle that even the Pope can't explain.

Go West...

I am not big reader of poetry, but every time I look at these photos of Thunder Jack, I can't help but think of the following few words by the British poets collectively known as the Pet Shop Boys.

"Go West...
Life is peaceful there...
Go West...

In the open air...

Go West...
Where the skies are blue...

Go West...

This is what we're gonna do..."

I'm convinced that song is about America and its pioneer spirit. But the song might be about the hard working men of America...the men who need a break after a long day laboring at the various toils of manly duties out there in the manly world....

 

Men like police officers keeping the peace with their nigh sticks...
Men like bikers in shiny black leather cruising the streets late at night...

Men like cowboys riding bareback in lonely territory, a lariat at their side, longing for conversation.

Men like the chiseled construction worker unafraid to work with his shirt off on while riveting steel.

Men like the proud native warrior, who wrestled a bear once by himself and lived to tell the tail...
Men like our proud sailors and soldiers,  with a salute and a "Yes Sir," they do this country proud...

So perhaps the song is a bit of both...Maybe it is a tribute to America and maybe it is a tribute to our hard working men. I mean, it's not like the men above are all going to sit around a hot tub talking about the Golden Girls. These are real men here. Real American Men. Men who embody the spirit of the Pioneer West.

So Go West, young man. Go West...maybe to San Francisco. 

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: But not with Walt

While normally I would climb on any piece of statuary available, climbing on this awkwardly creepy statue of Walt Whitman just seemed, well icky. I think it is his hollow cold copper eyes. So I can't really do much other than sick and feel kind of dirty next to America's second favorite gay poet.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Taming Spirit the MSU Bobcat

The wild beast sits in the plaza, much like a gargantuan mockery of a Maurice Sendak monster, waiting to pounce.

And pounce it does.  Striking me with its bronze paw of furry fury. For Spirit, as the Bozemanian people like to call him, does not want to be tamed.

But this Great Yellow Rider of Bronze Statuary, yes, that is how I shall now refer to myself, will not be laughed at. For I shall conquer this hollow metal beast.

And like other great bobcat whisperers, like, ummmm....Bobcat Goldthwait. No really, there aren't any others greater than him. Maybe, the guy who played the chainsaw in the band Jackyl (remember the lumberjack song?), but, that was it. 

Thus tamed, Spirit and I, headed for further adventures with my menagerie of bronze animals. When we meet those Ghost Riders in the Sky the radio keeps on singing about, we are sooooo going to kick their asses.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: The Trash Eating Goat

This is not Bozeman...
This is Spokane.
Though I may be pointing toward Bozeman, if I knew my the orientation of this sculpture and had any sense of direction. But let's just say, I am pointing to...the infinite.

Spokane is a magical land of brick where the statues eat garbage.

And after five hours of driving, there is nothing better than to get out of a car, stretch your legs, and to crawl upon a trash eating statue of a goat, and point to the infinite...

Yes people, this is what Spokane has to offer. 

Brick and statues that eat trash. Kind of poetic if you ask me. 

Something Bozeman related will be up soon. Once I figure out what that might be...

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Retro Edition

Riding the Bronze Buffalo is a long standing tradition. These images from my sprite-like youth, when I was not soured by the temptations of modern man and the bitterness that accompanies such sirens, were taken at the Oregon Zoo.

But back in those halcyon moments, we knew of the zoo as the Washington Park Zoological Gardens.

I don't recall seeing the warthog or the donkey at the zoo on my last visit. They had been replaced by the lions which I rode on my last visit. Other pieces of statuary are absent from the zoo, a marble hippo, appropriate for a toddler to straddle was also gone. Gone the way of the tapir. 

Somewhere out there, these sculptures probably still exist, that is unless some meth-addicted penguin got out of its enclosure and hacked it up and tried to sell it off at a scrap yard. But that is unlikely because penguins don't have much on organizational skills, let alone skilled use of hacksaws. There is probably a statue graveyard somewhere in Washington Park...I propose a treasure hunt!

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Ride the Bronze Mountain Goat

After a long adventure through the Rockies, and deciding that my own feet were too weak to support my own weight, I decided that I should ride the way the true mountain men do when venturing in the higher elevations.

And so I rode the bronze mountain goat, to my final destination...a place called, home. A place that few people reach in this day and age. For as I found myself in cradling the young goat offspring, I knew that I was a contented voyager. And that my trusted steed had carried me well.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Tame the Bronze Lion

After many hours of trying to wrestle the wild beast away from the frightened children to no avail. I needed to regroup and draw on the assistance of my peers.

I there made a desperate plea for my comrade to assist, and that he did. 

'Twas then that Master Soden, mightiest of of Lion Boxers, came and told that lion, "Bitch, You're Mine," and swiftly dealt him a fist full of remorse. We ventured off of the concrete plain, feeling like mighty hunters. Now we civilize the masses...of Gresham.

One...Two...Three...

This is the immortal Harry Caray, famed announcer for the Chicago Cubs baseball franchise. He is not to be confused with harakiri, the Japanese form of ritual suicide in which an individual slices open their stomach. However, because Americans can't pronounce foreign tongues with any form of dignity, people mistake the two words.

These are Harry Caray's fans... emerging like odd tumors out of the thigh of this great announcer. Fans of old horror movies might recall Freddy Krueger's chest of souls, the screaming faces of all of his victims affixed to his torso, well, this is kind of like that. Except that here, we have happy cubs fans popping out of Mr. Caray's thighs.

So this is Harry Caray--not ritual suicide and not a demonic dream-lord with countless souls in his thighs. Just an icon who popularized thick glasses before hipster kids came along. 

It is a little known fact that if you find yourself drunk at Wrigley Field and pass out underneath the statue of Harry Caray during a World Series Game, every time you hear the song "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" you will ejaculate diamonds and the first child sired from such emissions will be born with pure white hair.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Ride the Bronze Trout

Westward young trout...

Westward...

We will swim to fast and swiftly through the rapids and into the hallowed clear waters of the Bitterroot River. 
Swim strongly, young trout...
Swim like a porpoise...ummmm...I mean like a salmon...or like a bigger trout.

We shall dodge bear and anglers. And dine on caddis fly...

When we reach the spawning grounds, we shall rest and die. For that is what the brave trout do...For freedom.


And to think, people spent like twenty dollars a pop to go see some blue alien ride some dragon in Avatar...Hell, I climbed on a bronze statue in Montana and I think I got just about the same experience. Then again, I haven't seen that movie yet, so what the hell am I talking about anyway.


As always, if you have a picture of yourself riding a bronze animal, please send me a message. You will be forever immortalized in the "Ride the Bronze Buffalo" section of the Wonderful World of Clutter riding a bronze statue of an animal.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Ride the Bronze Dog

Sometimes statues are meant to be mounted like a noble steed. Sometimes those bronze statues are those of dogs. How this Bronze dog sculpture near Children's Hospital up on Pill Hill manages to balance rocks on his nose, I am not certain. Well...I am certain, they are welded to his snout.

This reminds me of what by chance might be the coolest of the most odd comic book heroes ever created--The Dog Welder. But this character is best left for a second post at another date.

Remember, if you have a picture of yourself riding a bronze statue of an animal, please send it along. Somewhere on this page is a place to send me a message.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Ride the Exalted Ruler

The elk is a majestic beast. There is no better animal to represent the Pacific Northwest than this massive animal...

And continuing a long absent started tradition on this blog: I present "Ride the Bronze Elk."

There are probably a bunch of people who mightfind meclimbing on a bronze statue a little disrespectful, but we truly do love the Elk.

For the elk provides us with jerky. And everyone loves jerky.

Other things considered, I probably could have done something more productive with my day after Thanksgiving. But when you conquer a statue, you find some form of reward.

So once again the offer stands, if you have a photograph of you riding a bronze statue of an animal, please send it to me. I will post it on the page. You will be memorialized on the Ride the Bronze Buffalo page.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo: Reader Contribution

About a month ago, I put out for photographs with the following instructions:

Find a bronze statue of an animal. 

Climb upon the statue.

Have a friend take a picture of you riding the bronze wonder.

Fin.

Well, this week I received my first addition to this project.




This image is from my friend Tara. The image is of her riding a bronze dog in Central Park, NY City. If memory serves correctly this is actually a memorial to Balto, a dog, that in reality did not talk but lived in Alaska.


So I extend the request once again. If you have a picture of yourself riding a bronze animal sculpture, send it along. You can join my Wonderful World of Clutter.

Ride the Bronze Buffalo

America is dotted with bronze statues.

When speaking with a friend a few months back, we came about the idea of a great photo essay project simply titled, "Ride the Bronze Buffalo."

The premise of this project is very simple.

1. Find a bronze statue of an animal. 
2. Climb upon the statue.
   
3. Have a friend take a picture of you riding the bronze wonder.
4. Fin.

At this point, there is only the one photo of me riding a single bronze Buffalo. However, I am hoping for this to change. There is a giant bronze eagle at the Seven Feathers Casino in Canyonville, OR, which must be tamed...