Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
“Oh look, Junior! The nice lady took a picture of pretty flowers! Aren’t they pretty? Now tell the nice lady thank you for taking the picture of the pretty flowers, Junior.”
“Thanks for the flower picture, nice lady.”
“You’re welcome, Junior. Do you like photos of flowers?”
“No.”
“Oh. Well, what do you like pictures of?”
“I like pictures of car accidents.”
“Ah, urh, well, how nice.”
“And I like pictures of road kill.”
“Uh, uhm, well…”
“If there’s a critter by the side of the road, I scream real loud so that Mama swerves and hits it.”
“Well, isn’t that, ah, well…”
“It’s fresher then.”
“Is it? How, um, creative of you.”
“And I like to look at pictures of industrial accident victims.”
“You like to look at, what was it again, honey?”
“Industrial accident victims. You know, people cut up, and people…”
“That’s all right! You don’t need to tell me anymore!”
“I also like pictures from war. People shot, and people blowed up, and people …”
“Yes, Yes! I think I understand! You know, Junior, you’re kind of a sick little boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s what my Daddy says. But he says boys will be boys, and I’m only going through a phase. So, you want I should tell you what other pictures I like?”
“No, no! That’s all right! I think I’ve got a fairly good idea of what kind of pictures you like! Tell me, with all this interest in photography, do you want to be a photographer when you grow up?”
“No. I want to be President of the United States. And I want to work for world peace. Just like my Dad.”
