Seriously folks. Maybe this place used to be super cool, etc. But right now, it rivals Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, Underground Atlanta (back in the heyday), and Fisherman's Wharf in sheer tackiness. We went yesterday in a fit of spontaneaity (never, btw, a good idea with small children in tow). It was hot and the kids were incredibly cranky. Even ice cream didn't do much to calm them down. However instead of doing the sane thing--hopping immediately back into our cars and heading straight home--we (Mike) thought it would be a fabulous idea to drive another ten miles out into the middle of nowhere to visit Michael Jackson's Ranch.
Don't ask.
We did finally make it home after an agonizing trip during which Z and M alternated whining, moaning, and screaming for 40 minutes straight. Never again my friends.
And here's the photographic evidence:
K and M at an "authentic" windmill in Solvang.
The drive to MJs ranch
Some kind soul decided to place port-a-potties just outside the ranch.
Lots of news vehicles parked along the road.
The white boards upon which people were writing various sentiments. And which, I suspect, were promptly erased and stored away at the end of the day.
Somewhere beyond this throng of people (and man selling $4 bottles of water) were the main gates.
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