Charlie Brown Farm was every bit as cluttered and chaotic as the website suggests.

What a collection of random bulls**t. Well, actually bobcat s**t.



Thank god it's from California. I hear the stuff from Nevada stinks.

Something there reminded me of my father, I couldn't figure out what...



Emu eggs. The size of softballs.



Entire cadavers of bunnies.



In case you like pet carcasses to have a more processed, manufactured look.



The brand is Pel-Freez, but it looks like Pet-Freez in the photo above photo, doesn't it? This photo from their website is so disturbing to me because Amanda strikes a pose just like that bunny on the plate when she's in self-cleaning mode. I'll get a photo some time.





Then there was the room devoted to the world's most tragic cartoon character.



Betty is about five feet tall. The room was full of figurines of her. It freaked me out to think that someone would actually want to own anything like this. Especially if they owned it without a sense of irony.

That's the thing about kitsch; the world has two types of people, those who like velvet Elvis paintings ironically and those who like velvet Elvis paintings without any irony.  Like all the Nazi  and Confederate paraphernalia at Charlie Browns, someone is buying that stuff for it's actual meaning, without any sarcasm.

Some pervert finds Betty Boop to be the ideal of a perfect woman, and some woman identifies herself so completely with Boop that she has a five foot tall figurine of her in her bedroom. Both ideas make me want to cry myself to sleep.

It makes me glad that the world still has barbecue to give it redeeming value.
 


That's brisket fat glistening back at ya on lower left. Man that was smoky, tangy, and good.

But then there are times when you find grossly demeaning racial stereotypes in life-size reality.



The guy in the background is wearing a slot machine instead of warrior armor. I hope this is a social statement of some sort and that the artist is Native American. Otherwise, this is a bunch of Nevada bobcat scat.

And for those who idolize Laura Bush and the less famous woman that JFK slept with.



It's kind of funny, like even the Laura doll is upstaged and jealous of J O-K, yet stilled too awed by her presence to keep from looking.

There was a Winston Churchill doll, which is destined to be my muse when I get a big, manly home office like this one day.



Couple of dumb gorillas.