The walls and ceilings of the saloon in Tortilla Flat are papered with autographed dollar bills and yellowing business cards. The heads of stuffed animals placed in strategic locations incongruously punctuate the décor – in this case a mountain lion bares its fangs at me from the rafters. Everything I include here is incongruous, and by limiting my frame to just a small fraction of the astonishing available clutter, I make this place seem even more bizarre.