Touch You Last

I get it if you're afraid of Twitter. You think what imaginary space is this trying to fill? We've got Facebook, and blogs, and messenger, and how many damn outlets does a person need to express themselves? I won't get into trying to sell all the merits of it; that's been done by smarter people than me. I just want to share this screenshot. To me, the best part about Twitter is not getting to post my own stuff, but getting to read everyone else's.

This is a picture of my Poppy McLean. I don't know how old this photo is, but I'd guess he's in his mid-twenties. That's a head of hair I never saw in my life. He was all bald and Ziggy-like long before I was born (and you can see a hint of that just starting in the photo). We borrowed this picture from my parents for a little project we're going to be working on (more on that later) and as you can see it wasn't in the best of shape. Rather than hanging on the wall or putting it up on the fireplace mantle, I think someone held it in their balled-up fist for the past sixty years. But then Photoshop came along and smeared awesome all over it. Scroll down to see the cleaned up picture. It wasn't push-button easy, but considering how frigged up the original was I definitely classify this clean up as Not Hard. It basically involved copying non-damaged, similar-looking parts of the photo and painting them overtop damaged parts (working at about 300x zoom). Th...