A Site of Beef by Ann-S-Thesia
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10/29/2000 - 11/04/2000
11/05/2000 - 11/11/2000
11/12/2000 - 11/18/2000
11/19/2000 - 11/25/2000
11/26/2000 - 12/02/2000
12/03/2000 - 12/09/2000
12/10/2000 - 12/16/2000
12/17/2000 - 12/23/2000
12/24/2000 - 12/30/2000
12/31/2000 - 01/06/2001
01/07/2001 - 01/13/2001
01/14/2001 - 01/20/2001
01/21/2001 - 01/27/2001
01/28/2001 - 02/03/2001
02/04/2001 - 02/10/2001
02/11/2001 - 02/17/2001
02/18/2001 - 02/24/2001
02/25/2001 - 03/03/2001
03/04/2001 - 03/10/2001
03/11/2001 - 03/17/2001
03/18/2001 - 03/24/2001
03/25/2001 - 03/31/2001
04/01/2001 - 04/07/2001
04/08/2001 - 04/14/2001
04/15/2001 - 04/21/2001
04/22/2001 - 04/28/2001
04/29/2001 - 05/05/2001
05/06/2001 - 05/12/2001
05/13/2001 - 05/19/2001
05/20/2001 - 05/26/2001
05/27/2001 - 06/02/2001
06/03/2001 - 06/09/2001
06/10/2001 - 06/16/2001
06/17/2001 - 06/23/2001
06/24/2001 - 06/30/2001
07/01/2001 - 07/07/2001
07/08/2001 - 07/14/2001
07/15/2001 - 07/21/2001
07/22/2001 - 07/28/2001
07/29/2001 - 08/04/2001
08/05/2001 - 08/11/2001
08/12/2001 - 08/18/2001
08/19/2001 - 08/25/2001
08/26/2001 - 09/01/2001
09/02/2001 - 09/08/2001
09/09/2001 - 09/15/2001
09/16/2001 - 09/22/2001
09/23/2001 - 09/29/2001
09/30/2001 - 10/06/2001
10/14/2001 - 10/20/2001
10/21/2001 - 10/27/2001
10/28/2001 - 11/03/2001
11/04/2001 - 11/10/2001
11/11/2001 - 11/17/2001
11/18/2001 - 11/24/2001
11/25/2001 - 12/01/2001
12/02/2001 - 12/08/2001
12/09/2001 - 12/15/2001
12/16/2001 - 12/22/2001
Saturday, November 25, 2000
Technology makes me cry. Each time I have a crisis...blank screens at start-up, hard drives not being recognized, inability to successfully install new software, any and all assorted weirdness that I am unable to troubleshoot...I cry. I can take mean people saying mean things. I can take emotional trauma and durress. I've been experienced with enough interpersonal crap that I'm usually able to blow it off. It may leave me scarred, but I usually don't cry. Not so with technology. Technology makes me feel vulnerable in its presence. When it doesn't behave the way I expect, I can't blame it on the fact that its parents abused it. I can't blame it on its recent relationship falling apart. I can't blame it for being a bastard with no manners.
I don't know how to fix it. So I cry.
Tonight I just downloaded Netscape 6 and tested out my sites. They no longer work. Now I don't exactly understand the whys and justifications of why Netscape 6 is unable to read my sites the way its earlier version 4.7 did. I also do not know how on earth to fix my sites to make Netscape work for them.
I wrote the following about Netscape 6's lack of backward compatibility on a message board today. I feel it is worth repeating here, even though I may have mentioned some of the ideas previously:
"Since digital technology has the capability to archive images and data into infinity (no ink that corrodes the paper, not effected by UV light or fading, no fugitive pigments...all the stuff you learn in art school), what is the point of NOT making something backward compatible if at all possible? What good are any of the documents we have created in the VERY SHORT past if they cannot be read five years later? It essentially renders irrelevant all older documents. Why is this necessary? If the technology exists for it to be backward compatible, why the heck can't they make it that way? It just plays into the disposable culture, and right now, Netscape, although once my browser of choice a couple years ago, is now standing for something I find unforgivable: History doesn't matter. Archiving doesn't matter. Documentation doesn't matter. People with less advanced sites do not matter."
Although I stopped using Netscape 4.7 when MSIE 5 came along due to speed issues, I always felt a tad guilty. I liked Netscape. Politically, I disliked Microsoft, so Netscape was my ally. I also wondered why Apple seemed more Buddy Buddy with MSIE, including it as the default browser in recent computer releases. I wonder no longer. With its latest release, Netscape has proven to be a browser for the coder, not for the surfer. It is a device where elitist developers can pick out the sites with improper coding and snicker (although the same coding worked perfectly with its previous releases).
Screw you, Netscape. The internet was once a great equalizer, where geeks and nongeeks alike could show off their talents. If there ever was a tool that would divide the internet into different substrates of the XHTML/CSS capable HAVES and the old fashioned HTML WYSIWYG Editor HAVE NOTS, you have succeeded in creating one. Congratulations in polarizing the internet more than the politicos in Florida.
The new Artmatic Pro is just too irresistible not to upgrade to. I wonder if they're not porting it to a Windows environment on purpose? Maybe it's a neener thing. You know..."neener neener!" (tongue sticking out). Maybe it's because there are a lot of programs out there, although I can't remember their names, that look pretty nifty that are Win only with no intention of ever going to Macs.
Friday, November 24, 2000
Stan just got back from work and told me that he had to get shaving cream so he stopped at Mallatt's (Mallatt's is a local old fashioned style drug store on the west side that also sells great Halloween costume and make-up supplies in the fall.) Yea Stan! We hadn't even discussed "Buy Nothing from Corporations Week" at all. He must have read my mind. He also didn't want to bear the mind-numbing din of a low-end-Mega-Mart with their greedy, shoving, loud customers looking for the latest Fischer Pricey crap when all he needs is a can of whisker-kill.
I was quite hallucinatory last night. I have a bizarre cold or flu where my nose is clear, I have no sore throat, but my ears were and still are clanging with cacaphony and noises are very loud. So maybe this doesn't make sense. Maybe I have a virus that is effecting my brain. But here goes: I was reading a Salon article Wednesday night where Courtney Love speaks out against the music industry, i.e., record companies, and she mentions that she has a 14-year-old niece who now wants to be a Web Designer, not a rock star like she previously wanted to be. Then last night I was watching a Beatles documentary (how many of these have I seen now?) on VH1 and the statement Lennon makes about them being more popular than Jesus sticks in my head. Then I think: "Web Designers. We're more popular than Rock Stars."
Watching a "100 best songs of rock and roll" on VH1 I'm also reminded that when I was in high school I felt my nose was enormous (especially for a teenaged girl in the 70s when two dots for nostrils was "the look") but I took ironic solace in that I would potentially turn out to look like a female version of Pete Townsend. For what that's worth.
I'm so glad I never got a nose job. I'm glad my nose consists of more bone and cartilege than the average double x chromosome nose, and that my nose-structure to nostril-hole ratio is high. I guess I was supposed to be thankful for that yesterday. Yup...we 'mericans have to put one day aside a year for thanks. That's just one more reason I hate holidays...I hate special days for reflection when one should reflect and be contemplative every day.
I am aware of a campaign going on today called "Buy Nothing Day" or something like that. I have mixed feelings about this. I really don't need a day to tell me to buy nothing...I usually buy nothing except for basics like food or socks or newt chow or occasionally a computer hardware or software item when I'm at my wits end trying to use something that's quite outdated by professional standards. I am not a CONSOOOOMER. I don't have the latest digital tecchie gadgets (actually, if you don't count my 'puters, I don't have any digital tecchie gadgets), new expensive dressy clothes or any of the other schtuff that's hyped on teevee. However as a very very small, self-started and self-financed and self-supported business person whose only means of survival is by the digital art items like fonts and graphics that I create, I definitely don't want to support a cause that discourages supporting people like myself, even though I'm sure the spirit of "Buy Nothing Day" is geared more toward boycotting consumption from the big stores and corporations. So how about a compromise? How about a "Buy Nothing from Corporations Week?" For example, if you need an item, like a box of facial tissue (timely, this time of year), don't go to Walgreens or Target to get it. Buy it at your local family run pharmacy, even though it may cost a little more. You will get friendlier service, avoid long lines of screaming kids and pushy parents. Shop for groceries at your local cooperative health food store instead of Safeway. Eat out at a local ethnic restaurant that is unique to your town...not at Olive Garden or Applebee's. Do book research at Barnes and Noble and Amazon online, then go out to your locally owned and operated bookstore that's been in town for 50 years and buy it there, or ask them to order it for you. (you KNOW people do this the other way around!) Conversely, don't buy those $9.99 (probably pirated) 2000 font cds from Comp USA...go online and buy the originals from the fontmakers themselves. Remember, the small businesses NEED your business...the big businesses don't. I have nothing against business. I just don't like BIG business.
And mergers...shudder. Coca Cola may be buying Quaker Oats. This is sad. What will happen to Quisp? And what about that poor old Quaker guy on the box of oats? He'll have to become all hipped up...cut his hair...lose the hat. It's sad. We'll be losing an icon. Quaker Oat man made me remember when Tim gave himself a goattee without a mustache and we called the style "Gramish"...a hybrid of Grunge and Amish. Anyway, I digress. I just hate to see smaller companies being bought up by larger companies. I like the diversity of many small companies, not monopolies. I hate seeing formulas of products (like salad dressing, for example) changing their ingredients to taste sweeter so that the overly sugar-addicted mainstream will find it more appealing than the non-sweet former incarnation. Blah. Phillip Morris/Kraft/Oscar Meyer is one of the worst too. (I'm digressing again). Poor Matt had a job that lasted a few days before he quit, working for OM putting together Lunchables! I can't think of a more hideous product line. Ironically, Matt's a vegetarian too.
Thursday, November 23, 2000
I want to get a bumper sticker that says, "Don't Blame Me, I Voted for Nader." But I don't want to get attacked by a bunch of angry testosterone-induced union worker Democrats either. Wouldn't be fair to Stan, since he's the one who usually drives (but I'll be able to drive again once the van is fixed and I get contacts!) and he voted for....um, he won't let me say. He's really into the "who I voted for is none of your business" thing. Although I do know who he voted for but I'm not telling.
Website traffic always drops dramatically on this day. When I first started using hit counters to keep track of visitors in '97 (I don't think I knew about them in '96 when I first started to put up webpages) I thought my tracker was broken. I had no idea that people didn't surf on Thanksgiving. See to me, Thanksgiving is just another day, and there's nothing in my activity that will be any different today than any other day. Actually, this Thanksgiving is a bit unusual because it's Stan's scheduled day off in his shift rotation. Normally he has had to work Thanksgivings at his present job. In fact, I don't think he had a T-Day off since 1995 when he worked at Orchard Hill*. I forgot if it was that year or in 1994 I had the best Thanksgiving when Stan and I went over to Tim's house. Tim got out of going down to see his parents that day because he worked in healthcare at the time, and healthcare work always has the likelihood of having you scheduled on Thanksgiving. I can't remember if Tim was actually working early that day, or if he just told them he had to work so he could get out of family obligations. It doesn't matter. We had a really good turkey that Marilyn, one of Stan and Tim's former co-workers from Orchard Hill, prepared. I can't remember who else was there...maybe some of Tim's roommates. Since everyone in Tim's house worked in healthcare, there were some sterile and unused specimen jars lying around that somehow found their way home with them. Tim discretely put beer in a specimen jar, so it looked like a real specimen, if you know what I mean. It was a scream. I think we had Marilyn, who was pretty drunk by the end of dinner, truly believing Tim and Stan were sipping someone's sample. You had to admit...it looked pretty authentic.
*Orchard Hill was a hybrid facility for the care of the developmentally disabled. It was like a cross between a group home and a mental institution. Personally, as an objective observer, I thought it was an ideal living situation for those people, but due to political problems from the inside and outside, it soon dissolved and became something else. In the process, Stan's job as kitchen manager, and Tim's job as CNA (I think he was a CNA) were eliminated, ironically right as Stan was getting his Master of Fine Arts, which was stressful enough (which I will no doubt expound upon in great detail some day). Stan and Tim and the other people that formerly worked there loved the old Orchard Hill. It was so laid back and hours were flexible and easily accommodated. Tim used to refer to it as his "Welfare with Dignity" partly because the pay wasn't that great and it wasn't like working because they actually had *fun* on the job.
I just love non-conventional Thanksgivings. But then I don't think I ever had a conventional one. As a kid I hated being just with my parents and no other relatives (as I had none). In my naievete, I wanted to be like the Waltons or something, something that was simply impossible to achieve in my relative-less world. But then when I became an adult, I hated the large family affairs that Stan's parents would have on the holidays. Stan hated them too, but he was used to them--I wasn't. We'd usually cloister ourselves away in the back bedroom, or sneak out to go for a drive, looking at all the weird decaying sites of the small little town on the eastern Colorado plains which was such a foreign site to me. We just loved being alone together, away from the hussle and bussle of his extended family, talking about music and art and ideas...an anathema to his relatives who talked about recipes and sports and who in the family was doing what. On the years we had Thanksgiving with my parents it was calmer, for the most part, except for the odd argument that I would inevitably have with my dad. Despite that annual holiday argument, It seems like I got along best with my parents when I was in my 20s, living in the same town, but not with them. After Stan and I moved a thousand miles away, our relationship has been more strained. I've felt more like a rebellious teenager when I'm forced to be around them now. Didn't Jerry Seinfeld have some routine about that, when you go to visit your parents and have to sleep in your old room, you're instantly a teenager again? (I partly overcame that by letting Stan sleep in my former bed and me sleeping on a rollaway cot in the living room...my parents don't have a large bed for both of us to sleep in) I feel there is a broader generation gap now as they're getting older, and after living in Madison for more than a decade, I guess I'm solidifying some seriously "radical" (or so the right-wing media would have you believe) views that weren't as apparent to them when I was younger and didn't think about politics as much. I guess it's harder to be relaxed around people that you only see every year or two. Thankfully, Stan and I can be alone today, as we have been most of the time we've lived out here (But I do miss Tim...he's familying in his hometown today, wishing he was here with us drinking beer out of a specimen jar). But it doesn't matter if it's Thanksgiving. I'd be glad either way if Stan had to work today or if he had the day off. Actually, it would be better if he had to work because then he'd get Time and a Half, plus get to use the holiday off later at a more convenient time. It just doesn't matter that much to me one way or another. I wonder why it's so important to every one else? It's like the American commercial media-driven economy with its Dickensian utopian idealistic family holiday portrayal of normality is oblivious to the fact that other countries don't celebrate today, and that there are a lot of people in this country who ARE working today and not spending time with family. I guess those people don't count, do they? Or at least they don't count to The Man.
You know, if someone bought me an expense-paid trip down to Florida, I'd love to go count ballots today! See a part of the world I'll probably never get to see otherwise, get a little sun, warm up a bit, all in exchange for counting ballots. You know, they really should consider this as an option for all the Floridians who don't want to count ballots because of their family T-Day obligations. Kind of like an exchange program for us family-free people up north who are willing to work on T-Day! Too late. Maybe next time.
Dreams: I was wearing some odd black top (that I think in my dream that I had been wearing for quite some time now, but in reality don't even own) that was partially constructed with lace and fishnet. I wasn't wearing a bra under it and look in a mirror and notice that my nipples are showing through the lace and fishnet areas. I'm in public, so I'm pretty self-conscious and embarrassed and trying to hide.
I was in a crowded room with a bunch of people younger than myself. I wanted to get out of the room, but couldn't find a door. I thought maybe I could escape through a window, so I open one of the windows that's sort of up high. There's a windowsill in front of it with some interesting glass sculptures on it, sort of like candles in shape, but more abstract, like millefiori canes. Then this dumb doofusy oaf type guy starts to exit the window and in the process knocks the sculptures off the sill and they fall outside the window and break. I'm so outraged that someone would do this with so little regard for art. I start yelling at him and telling him what a dumbass he is and how I hate him.
I was at my computer (7500) and someone else was using my G3. They got on the internet and somehow managed to log onto a live cam that they could manipulate to show the interior of a bar. They were keeping tabs on their dad, who was cheating on their mother. They saw their dad in the bar and he was watching football or something, and there was a younger woman with him. I could care less about their little soap opera, I was fascinated that the camera could be manipulated to move 360 around the bar from all angles, and even go outside. I take over this woman's spot on my G3 and start playing with this camera, moving it outside the bar and down the street. I'm wondering how on earth this is possible, but I am loving it because no one knows I'm manipulating it from a computer many miles away. (I'm envisioning this thing looked like that little round killing mechanism from some cheesey horror movie that took place in a mortuary that I saw in the 80s...forgot the name of it.) Then I notice that there's some butterflies in the camera's view, so I'm watching the butterflies because they seem pretty surreal, almost frozen in motion. Then it's almost as if I'm outside instead of behind at my computer. I'm looking up at the trees (which are sort of outside my house) and seeing all these butterflies. Somehow Stan is out there too, talking to some other people. I look up at this big tree and see what appears to be the markings of a frog on it. It's a really HUGE, FAT frog, and I want to catch it. It jumps out of the tree and into the mossy, leaf-covered grass below. I run after it, and it jumps into a window well. I keep trying to catch it, but it's quite fast and slippery. I then put a really tight hold on it to secure it, but then it oozes some nasty pea-green soup type stuff out its butt. I'm freaked out because I thought I killed it, but it's still alive, and I figure it's either poop or some mechanism to scare me off. I want to get rid of this nasty poop, but was unable to in the dream before I woke up or went on to another dream (I don't know if these were in order).
Wednesday, November 22, 2000
Oh my goodness! I just won the CoolSTOP Best of the Cool Award on 11/22/00!! But wait...there's a problem. Oh no! It looks like Kitty won too! What does this mean? It can't be! No! Not another recount! Looks like Joe's going to be counting chads all night long on this one.
Dream: I was lying in bed with Stan this morning (as I actually was) and there was an empty coffee can on the bed (as there wasn't). Inside the can were strange mushroom fungus type things growing in it. Some of them looked like they were growing mold. I also noticed some strange flat, horned beetles. I know I've seen them before, at least in preserved collections if not in real life, and I know Stan has drawn them for his Beetle Fonts. They were small, no bigger than half an inch, and many colored white like the mushrooms. Then one of the beetles got out onto the bed, but it was soon devoured by a lizard that was loose and living on the bed. I kept trying to wake up Stan (in the dream, I hope, not in real life or else he would've thought I lost it) to tell him, "Hey Stan, look! A lizard ate a beetle! Look!" But he didn't wake up.
Tuesday, November 21, 2000
Monday, November 20, 2000
I just recalled more dreamage: I went to my eye doctor and he wanted to hold off on putting me back into contacts. I kept trying to tell him, "The corneal specialist said it was OK! He told me I could wear contacts!" But my regular eye doctor kept resisting. Oh Great Zeus, I hope this isn't another one of my prophetic dreams. Just as things were starting to improve...whammo. September all over again. I think I know what went wrong in September. I cut my hair. Always a bad move. I was looking through some old pictures I took with my tacky-immitation-faux-not-a-real-web-cam. I looked better before I cut my hair. Or maybe just younger. The stresses of September (dog falling down the stairs...eyes falling apart...other bad situations that shall go unnamed...) aged me, I'm afraid.
So I snuck some sourcecode peeks at other sites where I'm sure the webmaster has more technical HTML understanding than I (since I don't think it would be possible to have much less) and not all of them have the !DOCTYPE at the beginning of their documents. I feel much better now. W3 will have to take down the whole stinking lot of us if they decide to take me down!
I just realized I broke one of the promises I made with myself before I put up this blog: No geek speak. Whoops. Sorry.
Phasing out non-compliant html sort of defeats the beauty of digital media, and that is its potential to be archived into infinity, unlike other documents that crumble and fade with age. I guess that's what happens when you have computer geeks defining the standards instead of Historians, Archivists, Aritsts (was permanence of media stressed in college or WHAT!?!) and those other Humanity Major types. Everything is so disposable in this society. It's sad.
I just found out that all my html pages are missing a !DOCTYPE line of code at the top. I didn't even know it needed this. This is not something that PageMill puts in. Yes, go ahead, laugh, geeks, I use PageMill and it's damn easy for un-geeks like me. It's FACILE. It's a no brainer. People ask me all the time what HTML editor I use and when I say "PageMill with a little BBEdit here and there" they're aghast. "You did your site with PageMill?" Yes, I did. Unfortunately, PageMill, despite its ease of use for those non-nerds among us to whom languages are Spanish and French and not C++ and COBOL, and who never took a drop of college math beyond "Practical Business Math for the Humanities Major Expecting to Make $17,000 or Less a Year 101," is not as "compliant" (or whatever the word is) as it has to be in this day and age. So I will have to go in and insert the !DOCTYPE line in all my pages. All my html pages...that's like a thousand pages or something across my three domains. I haven't counted. Cripes. What will happen if I don't? Will the Web Consortium Cops come and confiscate my site? Will they condemn it? Will they fine me like the City of Madison does if my homepage has crumbling siding or peeling paint? I was right to find loathesome the little nerd boys in high school who wore calculators around their belts...the ones who couldn't carry on conversations with me without staring at my shoes the whole time (not even staring at my breasts!). They're probably part of the W3 Consortium snickering at my site right now.
Tim calls these "Special Guest Star" dreams. I call them absurd.
The first part of the dream started out pretty typical...one of those reoccurring dream motifs where I was riding a bike around the west side of Fort Collins on a Sunday, near Shields/Taft Hill and LaPorte. I was riding through an abandonned shopping plaza and the parking lot was covered with overgrowing weeds. I turn into an older, residential area, and think "I've been here before in a dream and did the same exact thing where I turned down a dead end." A lot of the houses are in varying stages of decay. Suddenly the road slopes upward and just ends with an abrupt drop off into a gulley below. I stop and get off my bike. There's a woman there who starts talking to me about how strange it is that the road ends like that. I know her from somewhere, maybe college, and we start talking about the price of housing in Fort Collins, and how the rent on her small house she shares with a roommate is going up to about $2200 a month. I find that absurdly high and tell her that our mortage on our house in Madison isn't anywhere near that, implying she should consider leaving Fort Collins. She takes me to her house and shows it to me. It looks familiar although I know I've never been there before. It has a small loft for a second floor. Then we notice that there are people on the roof, and we look out the window and....it's Michael Douglas! You know...the actor who just got married recently (some big hoopla in the entertainment media about it) I think it odd that Michael Douglas is not at his wedding, or at least a post wedding party, and wonder what the heck he's doing crawling around on a roof with another woman (someone else I think I recognized from graduate school) on a little house in a rural, rundown area of northern Fort Collins. But I didn't pursue the issue. Then Stan and I were in some classroom and we were sitting in the back. I remember a lot of grey. The professor was writing on the chalkboard and concerned that we couldn't see all the way in the back. Then he starts handing out papers and when he hands out a paper to Stan, Stan shakes his hand and tells him he's glad to meet him. I was embarrassed.
Sunday, November 19, 2000
I caught a short few minutes of The Wizard of Oz on cable this evening. It hit me:
Several years ago there was a documentary movie on the making of Apocalypse Now. There is a part in it where the camera focuses on Marlon Brando and he says something like, "I can't think of anything to say right now."
That's how I feel. I know I had dreams, but as soon as I became conscious, I forgot them.
Watched a pretty disturbing documentary movie last night...."Doctor Death." Actually, it's not what it sounds like if you've never heard about it before. It's not violent or anything...probably could even get a "G" rating (I don't know what its rating actually was...as someone with no kids, ratings are of no relevance to me). What was disturbing was the subject, Fred Leuchter, a mousey little man who was involved in the "execution" industry in the capacity of perfecting electric chairs, gallows, gas chambers, etc., and eventually ended up testifying on behalf of Holocaust revisionists, who were claiming that the gas chambers at Auschwitz were not death camps. He just seemed spineless. I mean, if you thought the Nazis were abhorrent (which I suspect he did), wouldn't you tell revisionists to go screw themselves if they wanted to use your "technical expertise" (which is doubtful that he actually had) to support their agenda? I would, and I have. As an employee of Kinko's back in the 1980s working at their Desktop Publishing service, I refused to Mac-typeset a newsletter put out by the white supremacist church that sponsored the assassination of Alan Berg (Denver Talk-Show Host assassinated in his driveway back in the mid 1980s...big news in Colorado...obscure in the rest of the world) even though I could have lost my job by denying service to a customer. Despite its disturbitude, I would definitely recommend this movie as a glimpse into a very strange little mind.
Oh, just great. Now I'm going to get Holocaust Revisionists and White Supremacists coming to this site doing searches on Yahoo Google. Just swell.
Copyright 1996-2001 Ann Stretton. All Rights Reserved. No part of this web log may be copied or reproduced, however text may be quoted if a link is given in return. Permission is not given under any circumstances to use any of the graphics or art on this site, however If you ask first, I may grant permission at my discretion. Please check the link above to my Ann-S-Thesia site for web graphics if that is what you need.