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DPChallenge Forums >> Challenge Results >> K10DGuy ROCKS!!! Post Your K10DGuy comment HERE!!!
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Showing posts 51 - 75 of 155, (reverse)
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 10/09/2008 05:24:29 PM · #51
This isn't about a comment K10DGuy posted on one of my photos, I actually have not had the honor yet. However this is about something he told me, that I will remember for some time, and that I am so very thankful that he took the time to tell me.

Originally posted by K10DGuy:
When you decide, Togtog, that you can offer up a discussion in an unbiased, non-opinionated way, follow up on the arguments and responses with measured, unbiased, non-emotional responses, and find a way to word your responses without making it seem like you're trying to cattle-herd people into a pre-measured belief on the topic, you'll find that you might get the open and positive discussion you claim to be looking for.


I know some people who would have become hurt or offended at such advice. However I took it as a wake up call, as I did not realize before that moment, how I was acting. He gave me a good kick to the head and I am thankful for it. He did so without personal insult and in a polite manner that proved he was more interested in helping me than in being right.

So I thank you again K10DGuy, and I hope you never lose or try to hide that honesty you show so often with a unique angle to life. :)
10/09/2008 05:29:59 PM · #52
Ok, now I'm starting to just get embarrassed. lol.

Thanks Togtog, and thanks NikonJeb. I appreciate the kudos, but I do think it's time to move on for now. heh.

Anyway, time to go vote on some challenges for me!
 10/09/2008 05:31:46 PM · #53


K10DGuy 's comment-- Thanks

Although it was considered amusing at the time, the ritual dance that Jenny had developed during her showers, it became apparent as the years passed that perhaps it wasn't just a funny childhood thing.

On her 20th birthday, when the skies opened up, and hell rained down, nobody was amused at all.
10/09/2008 05:34:53 PM · #54


It was near the end of her sanity that Sara once again appeared in what she'd come to call "The Fireplace Room". While it should have been clear that she was going in circles, the insane don't always realize their folly, and so she crawled out of the frame and entered the fireplace again, desperately seeking a way out.

When her catatonic body was discovered days later, nobody could figure out why she didn't just try the door.
 10/15/2008 01:04:24 AM · #55
I guess I'm with the guy who didn't like his comment - personally I found it condescending and afronting, and unnecessarily discouraging. I was even more annoyed because what he said was so completely wrong, I put a lot of time and effort into the shot in post production, and was tempted to send him the original so he could see how I'd actually done it. But I figured the "6+" remark was made by a man with a massive chip on his shoulder and forgot him. I'd even decided that if I was married to someone like him I'd be arguing with him 24/7, shortly before declaring a re-run of 'war of the roses', lol.
I'm relieved to see there is a great imagination behind K10DGuy, and I think most of the comments in this forum have revealed someone quite remarkable. I just wish I hadn't had this first run in. Thems the breaks I guess, the shot wasn't that great anyway, I knew it.


Put a camera on a tripod. Wait for Sunset/Sunrise. Take a few dozen test shots. Hit "Make it more Pink" button on the insta-matic. Stir. Get a 6+ score.

I guess it helps to be near an ocean too.
10/15/2008 01:07:13 AM · #56
Honest commentary makes another friend. News at 11.
 10/15/2008 01:14:08 AM · #57
Originally posted by violinist123:
Honest commentary makes another friend. News at 11.


Ah, the cynical and sarcastic violinist who resents me for not playing cello any more.....roflmao

Honesty is one thing that I really admire. Its people who hide behind sarcasm that really give me the #$%^s.

Message edited by author 2008-10-15 01:16:13.
 10/15/2008 01:20:18 AM · #58
Originally posted by jettyimages:
Originally posted by violinist123:
Honest commentary makes another friend. News at 11.


Ah, the cynical and sarcastic violinist who resents me for not playing cello any more.....roflmao

Honesty is one thing that I really admire. Its people who hide behind sarcasm that really give me the #$%^s.


I'm sure you're joking about the cello thing. Hope so anyway.
 10/15/2008 09:22:28 PM · #59
Edward looked up from the keyboard to the screen. His faced glowed in the monitor’s dim light. Slowly his hand started to slide along the desktop to grab for the mouse, his hand sticking slightly from the sweat on his palm. I need another drink he thought and he pushed himself back in his wheeled office chair got up and headed to the cabinet to refill his snifter with more Patron. As he sipped the tequila, he sat at his computer and reread his comment. A wave of doubt started to well up within him. Perhaps the recipient wouldn’t appreciate it. Perhaps their sense of humor wouldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Perhaps they couldn’t appreciate his love for literary wordplay. Maybe they would miss the point that was that their photo had made a connection with him. Maybe they'd miss that he was one of the rare ones who believed a photo says a thousand words and he wanted to share a few he had felt with the photographer. But this comment was a little too macabre even for him. Slowly he moved the cursor on the screen from the numbers to vote to the back button banishing his commentary to realm of the unwritten. Never letting the photographer know of the impact of their work.

That's for you Ed! Thanks. I believe you're a rare asset to this sight. Keep it going

Message edited by author 2008-10-22 21:28:06.
 11/08/2008 06:28:10 AM · #60
Originally posted by neophyte:
Edward looked up from the keyboard to the screen. His faced glowed in the monitor’s dim light. Slowly his hand started to slide along the desktop to grab for the mouse, his hand sticking slightly from the sweat on his palm. I need another drink he thought and he pushed himself back in his wheeled office chair got up and headed to the cabinet to refill his snifter with more Patron. As he sipped the tequila, he sat at his computer and reread his comment. A wave of doubt started to well up within him. Perhaps the recipient wouldn’t appreciate it. Perhaps their sense of humor wouldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Perhaps they couldn’t appreciate his love for literary wordplay. Maybe they would miss the point that was that their photo had made a connection with him. Maybe they'd miss that he was one of the rare ones who believed a photo says a thousand words and he wanted to share a few he had felt with the photographer. But this comment was a little too macabre even for him. Slowly he moved the cursor on the screen from the numbers to vote to the back button banishing his commentary to realm of the unwritten. Never letting the photographer know of the impact of their work.

That's for you Ed! Thanks. I believe you're a rare asset to this sight. Keep it going


An awesome, and well-written tribute.
 11/08/2008 06:50:30 AM · #61
Okay, I'm firing this thread back up again 'cause.......well, I think we have something really special on our hands with Ed K10DGuy.

I have *NO* idea what possessed him to go down this path, but I am surely glad he did.

Once again, I'm bowled over by his eerie, and uncanny way to derive a story from a piece of work. What I must do though is to give a little background.

Last month, JulietNN entered this image:


It's a good image, and I even voted on it.....but I didn't really look at it long and hard, or go back and read the comments, one of which was Ed's:

Even after the cataclysm, Steven -- The Last Combine -- wouldn't quit. He would never quit. He could never quit. So, to this day, he wanders the lonely expanses of a never changing land, reaping the grain that only he can reap, to feed the people that only he can feed.

It is life's greatest tragedy that Steven could never realize that there were no people left, and those that he fed were only his imagination.

So we get to this month, and not having Juliet's image really register in my memory, (I'm old and lived through the 60s.), I posted this image:


So.....as luck would have it, this combine is the same series as Juliet's (I know these things, I work in a John Deere dealer.) and Ed posted this:

Centuries later, when the first alien visitors arrived on our planet, they were met only by Steven, The Last Combine. Sadly, he was also the last working relic of human civilization, long since destroyed by their own foolishness.

The alien peoples looked on Steven as a demi-god, and worshiped his never-ending toiling to provide grain for a humanity that only existed in his fevered and tortured mind, and so he toiled for centuries more, and whether or not his work ever ended, was lost to the sands of time.

Well, what can I say other than this is just utterly amazing! Obviously, amongst his other talents, Steve has a pretty good memory, and the fount of creativity will stand another trip to the well.

I'm just blown away!

I'm just wondering now if I, or someone else can come up with anothe 9000 series combine so that Steve may live on!

LOL!!! Ed, you DEFINITELY rock!

P.S. Though this isn't governed by any rules, as OP I would like to state that my intent for initiating this thread was for those who enjoyed and appreciated the comments from K10DGuy to post and share these jewels of creativity.

01/23/2009 11:26:25 AM · #62
just had to share, so awesome! thanks k10dguy!!



He'd trained for this moment from the time he could begin to talk. A few short and measly years, but all his time and energy had gone to preparing for and learning about this one moment.

He stood there, the hope of a nation, the pride of the world. He stood there, the tiny prodigy, a young sorcerer, ready to cast his magic and heal the world.

He stood there, and tossed his reagents into the air and uttered his words of power, and light flared upon the waters, and the wind howled in the sky, and the people gasped and cheered and the dying sun flared to life once more.

With a sigh, his little body collapsed into the sand, exhausted, and he was carried off a hero.
 01/23/2009 12:12:41 PM · #63


She presented it with such feeling, in hands covered with a fabric of a white that was almost unnatural, like it was impossible that they could even be there. Cupped within that brilliance was the object of her offering, a candy apple shade of sparkling wonder, capped with gold and flecked with a texture that grabbed the light and scattered it sparklingly.

As she held it out, her eyes showed a touch of smile, but also poured out in hope and pleading. Would I purchase this thing, so lovingly displayed? Would I help feed her this night, or perhaps give her more coin towards finding a warm place to sleep.

So I smiled and reached into my pocket and produced a handful of coin, and exchanged it for that simple thing, the offering made so seemingly full of innocence and charm, and knew that I was most likely a sucker for doing so, but not caring for that moment. Who was to know her real story? Who was to really say what fate held in store for her, but for that one brief moment I could pretend that I had helped move her towards something better, and the magic of that offering stayed in my heart.
 01/23/2009 12:22:53 PM · #64


And in the darkest of night, where memory has the ability to touch and break your heart, she floats up out of the ether, out from where I thought I had buried the pain and the loss, out from the furthest reaches of my subconcious, to remind me of what we once had.

Our darling, our joy, our taste of the wind and the sea. Her gaze like the gift to us that she was, penetrating our souls. Kindness and laughter and love. Taken from us far too early, but never forgotten.

For in the darkest of night, where memory aches my very foundation, she returns to me. Does she visit my wife as well, on these nocturnal visits? I do not have the strength to ask, but when she comes, I reach out for her, to hold her one last time, to kiss her forehead and tell her that I love her, and that she'll always be with me in my heart.

She lie there so tenderly. Fashioned so slenderly.

Lift her with care, so young and so fair.

So touching and emotive.
 01/23/2009 12:41:20 PM · #65

It began on a warm snowy day in Late March, the promise of spring in the air. Out of all the pregnant mares that year, he was the only one that was successfully brought to term. That successfully emerged alive. It was an unusual thing, but it was blamed on the weather, as things like this quite often are. Brutally cold for longer than usual, and warming up far too fast.

For the next few weeks they watched him carefully, but it seemed like there was nothing wrong. He grew and developed on pace. He seemed happy and lively and energetic.

Then, one day, when they went out to feed him as he ran about the pen, they looked up and gasped. The feed buckets dropping to the ground beside them, forgotten. As he trotted back and forth there, he stared at them, with eyes that had gone the color of ice, and glowed with a malignant cold heat that struck them to their very core.

When he suddenly stopped, and then came charging toward them, an unearthly scream emitting from his throat, their paralyzing shock finally broke, and they turned to run, but it was too late.

It was too late.

This is the second consecutive mean-spirited, depressing and wrong-headed diatribe I've received from Edward. Personally, I don't appreciate the story when it denigrates the image and casts a gloomy pall over an otherwise innocent image. For those of you who received warm, caring or humorous stories, congrats. You are lucky and I hope you continue to be on the receiving end of his charity. Mine have not been a pleasant experience. The little stories have nothing to do with the photography. And, I find them very upsetting when so dreary. I don't take them seriously. I try to find amusement in the contrived anecdotes. But, I've respectfully asked him to stop placing these comments on my images.
 01/23/2009 12:52:22 PM · #66
drama much?
 01/23/2009 01:04:21 PM · #67


He lay there, on his throne (cats don't sit, it is beneath them), and proudly displayed his latest kill. For him, it was a conquest, a trophy that cemented his name and legacy among all the Kings of old. For him, it was a testament to his cunning and strength and prowess. To him, it proved the status of his rulership and set him up for a regency unmatched.

To his subjects, however, secretly snickering behind his back, it was just the latest practical joke that their poor clueless "king" had succumed to. The bumbling fool! They spoke in whispers, Can't even tell a toy mouse from the real thing.

Thus the kingdom went on, with the puppet on the throne lost in self-congratulations while the real masters ran things from the shadows, as ever it had been.
 01/23/2009 01:17:37 PM · #68
Somebody please post the one with the great dane in the wedding veil - it is hilarous.
 01/23/2009 01:32:40 PM · #69
I love the comment Edward wrote on my free study. It made me smile and made me feel a bit melancholic too. Thanks again Edward!!



She sat out on the rooftop, with the city behind her. It was a beautiful day, the air crisp and cleaner than usual. The sun was just right, the sounds of the rat race far below were muted and almost forgettable.

She glanced back at something and smiled a little. The love of her life came out from the doorway and smiled back, and began to walk toward her.

It is days like this that let us remember what it is to be alive. That let us remember why we wish to exist and go on and make our plans and set our goals and work towards our future. It is days like this that make us feel glad and forget the ills and fears and disappointments.

It is days like this that we can almost forgive ourselves for being human.
 01/23/2009 01:36:25 PM · #70
This is a great thread. I loved the comment on this photo - it really moved me for some reason.



Their presence was barely felt as they strolled down that stretch of sodden sand. For most, it would have been like a brush of wind, or a sudden chill, or perhaps even like a breath of warm air on the back of the neck. Not enough to alarm anyone, but certainly enough that the subconscious stopped briefly to wonder just what it was.

So they passed, these three, on their timeless journey that occupied not only that space, but every space in the universe, simultaneously, such was their power. In front of them, an endless nothing. Around them coursed all life and time and happening. Behind them, a decaying of time. Erased as they passed as if it had not happened at all.

They were the fates, the three. The beginning, the now, and the end. All of existence was owed to them, and all of existence was theirs, not to command or control, but to watch over and keep.

Their presence was barely felt as they passed, but their impact was undeniable.
 01/23/2009 01:50:04 PM · #71
Originally posted by hahn23:

It began on a warm snowy day in Late March, the promise of spring in the air. Out of all the pregnant mares that year, he was the only one that was successfully brought to term. That successfully emerged alive. It was an unusual thing, but it was blamed on the weather, as things like this quite often are. Brutally cold for longer than usual, and warming up far too fast.

For the next few weeks they watched him carefully, but it seemed like there was nothing wrong. He grew and developed on pace. He seemed happy and lively and energetic.

Then, one day, when they went out to feed him as he ran about the pen, they looked up and gasped. The feed buckets dropping to the ground beside them, forgotten. As he trotted back and forth there, he stared at them, with eyes that had gone the color of ice, and glowed with a malignant cold heat that struck them to their very core.

When he suddenly stopped, and then came charging toward them, an unearthly scream emitting from his throat, their paralyzing shock finally broke, and they turned to run, but it was too late.

It was too late.

This is the second consecutive mean-spirited, depressing and wrong-headed diatribe I've received from Edward. Personally, I don't appreciate the story when it denigrates the image and casts a gloomy pall over an otherwise innocent image. For those of you who received warm, caring or humorous stories, congrats. You are lucky and I hope you continue to be on the receiving end of his charity. Mine have not been a pleasant experience. The little stories have nothing to do with the photography. And, I find them very upsetting when so dreary. I don't take them seriously. I try to find amusement in the contrived anecdotes. But, I've respectfully asked him to stop placing these comments on my images.


You've been answered. As I said, I can't know whose photos are whose during the challenge. You have a PM detailing what to do for the future. I just want everyone to enjoy DPC as much as they can. Cheers.
 01/23/2009 01:54:01 PM · #72
Originally posted by hahn23:

It began on a warm snowy day in Late March, the promise of spring in the air. Out of all the pregnant mares that year, he was the only one that was successfully brought to term. That successfully emerged alive. It was an unusual thing, but it was blamed on the weather, as things like this quite often are. Brutally cold for longer than usual, and warming up far too fast.

For the next few weeks they watched him carefully, but it seemed like there was nothing wrong. He grew and developed on pace. He seemed happy and lively and energetic.

Then, one day, when they went out to feed him as he ran about the pen, they looked up and gasped. The feed buckets dropping to the ground beside them, forgotten. As he trotted back and forth there, he stared at them, with eyes that had gone the color of ice, and glowed with a malignant cold heat that struck them to their very core.

When he suddenly stopped, and then came charging toward them, an unearthly scream emitting from his throat, their paralyzing shock finally broke, and they turned to run, but it was too late.

It was too late.

This is the second consecutive mean-spirited, depressing and wrong-headed diatribe I've received from Edward. Personally, I don't appreciate the story when it denigrates the image and casts a gloomy pall over an otherwise innocent image. For those of you who received warm, caring or humorous stories, congrats. You are lucky and I hope you continue to be on the receiving end of his charity. Mine have not been a pleasant experience. The little stories have nothing to do with the photography. And, I find them very upsetting when so dreary. I don't take them seriously. I try to find amusement in the contrived anecdotes. But, I've respectfully asked him to stop placing these comments on my images.


too bad..... Genius is never appreciated, much less understood.

Message edited by author 2009-01-23 13:57:18.
 01/23/2009 01:57:33 PM · #73
How is the horsie dealing with this horrible atrocity?
 01/23/2009 01:58:59 PM · #74
I'm very happy that the majority of people like these things. They sure are fun to do (although exhausting as well).

Look forward to January's Free Study!
01/23/2009 02:02:36 PM · #75
Originally posted by K10DGuy:
Originally posted by hahn23:

It began on a warm snowy day in Late March, the promise of spring in the air. Out of all the pregnant mares that year, he was the only one that was successfully brought to term. That successfully emerged alive. It was an unusual thing, but it was blamed on the weather, as things like this quite often are. Brutally cold for longer than usual, and warming up far too fast.

For the next few weeks they watched him carefully, but it seemed like there was nothing wrong. He grew and developed on pace. He seemed happy and lively and energetic.

Then, one day, when they went out to feed him as he ran about the pen, they looked up and gasped. The feed buckets dropping to the ground beside them, forgotten. As he trotted back and forth there, he stared at them, with eyes that had gone the color of ice, and glowed with a malignant cold heat that struck them to their very core.

When he suddenly stopped, and then came charging toward them, an unearthly scream emitting from his throat, their paralyzing shock finally broke, and they turned to run, but it was too late.

It was too late.

This is the second consecutive mean-spirited, depressing and wrong-headed diatribe I've received from Edward. Personally, I don't appreciate the story when it denigrates the image and casts a gloomy pall over an otherwise innocent image. For those of you who received warm, caring or humorous stories, congrats. You are lucky and I hope you continue to be on the receiving end of his charity. Mine have not been a pleasant experience. The little stories have nothing to do with the photography. And, I find them very upsetting when so dreary. I don't take them seriously. I try to find amusement in the contrived anecdotes. But, I've respectfully asked him to stop placing these comments on my images.


You've been answered. As I said, I can't know whose photos are whose during the challenge. You have a PM detailing what to do for the future. I just want everyone to enjoy DPC as much as they can. Cheers.


Your suggestion was to just simply share my image title with you prior to the challenge. Then, you would place it on your "do not comment" list. Are you doing this with others? .... I mean are others sending you titles and images prior to the completion of a challenge? (This is not something which I would participate in, for obvious reasons of rule-breaking collusion.)

I have sent you a response indicating what you should do, and I hope you will comply promptly.

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