EL DORADO MOTEL

I got up off my lazy ass one Friday morning and went hunting...hunting photos, that is, along Fort Worth's seedy ol' Highway 80, which was renamed Camp Bowie West by the powers that be to rid it of a bad rep even though the joints along the highway still have bad reps, and found the El Dorado Motel --- a motel with a perfect look and location for some teenage horror psycho killer slasher flick.

I hadn't been down Highway 80, the part of it on the west side of Loop 820, in quite some time and was surprised to see that the motel was still there and still open for business. As I pulled into a business strip to park and get out and walk over and take this photo I thought to myself, "DAMN! That old ass place is still there? I got to go get a photo of that place before it's torn down."

Sometimes getting off your lazy ass and going outside into the bad, bad world pays off. It did for me the day I rediscovered this classic motel.

White Trash Photo Shows

Here's two video slideshows I put together using my photos, and those of some others, of my white trash redneck friends from over the past decade or so, living the low life while drinking Miller's High Life and listening to rock 'n roll like Molly Hatchet's Flirtin' With Disaster and Gary Glitter's classic arena rock anthem Rock 'N Roll, Part 2. You can also see these videos at my YouTube page. All of us somehow surviving divorces,needy friends, fucked up friends, the ups, the downs, the all-arounds, tales from Fred's Texas Cafe, cold ass beer, cheap booze, soul crushing shit jobs, pieces of shit cars, break downs --- mental and otherwise --- shopping for threads and footwear at thrift stores & flea markets, meeting all sorts of fucked up losers, freaks, weirdos and what the fucks?, suicidal depression driving us to near insanity, meandering through headbanging mid-life crisis's, doing the SSDD (same shit different day) routine, facing SNAFUs, barely making it through FUBARs, spending nights at dive bars with fellow barflies, reading Bukowski to make sense of it all, inhaling the bud, surviving chrushing thuds and and all sorts of crud.

Fuck it. Hell, yeah.

NOTE: The Anti-HeroArt.com website is no more.