Inert from a divot of steak with a side of sea bass and chocolate cake carved from a neutron star. The annual dinner usually has the speaker address the crowd after the meal, and everyone gets drowsy with digestion and red wine, but the speaker had to leave early to go IOWA, nudge nudge, so the speech preceded the meal. This is good, I’ve decided, because there’s always questions afterwards, and you're ready to pack it up and get in the valet line, and someone stands up and says “When you look at foreign policy through the lens of events in Constantinope in 1123” and then goes through seven hundred years to get to the point, it can be a bit much.
To my utter surprise I ran into the Dark Chef, my old producer from the Diner. Shouldn’t have been surprised, since he was here last year - wife’s family is a member of the organization that sponsored the event, but I’d forgotten. So we had a brief intense Star Wars conversation, which was hampered by my decision not to watch the whole trailer. As I may have mentioned, it was too good. I wanted to reserve the chills. Nowadays a trailer for “Empire” would have Darth admitting paternity right before a black screen and silence and then a BIG WHOOSH and a hammer blow as the name of the movie slammed on the screen - or perhaps faded in in a irreverent hush, then faded away, leaving only the release date.
All in all, a Presidential day. Four of them came to the office. I walked around the corner and there were these guys.
Another day at the office, sure, but why? Ah: South Dakota tourism promotion. I asked them to line up as they did on Rushmore, then asked them to turn around to give us the view from the other side of the mountain.
Yes, another day at the office, directing foam-headed replicas of the Founding Fathers.
Construction update: the stadium. It gets more awe-inspiring every day.
If you didn't know what it was supposed to look like, you'd have a hard time figuring out where it was going.
Annnnd pupdate; the dog is digesting something immense or considering the perfidy of raccoons.
As usual for Friday, the Music Cues. Of course we begin with the Couple Next Door, with its cheerful soundtrack of the mid-century domestic scene.
CND Cue #538 A new one! I'm thinking . . . clown ballerinas at the circus.
CND Cue #539 This one starts out as if it's lifted from a late-Romantic symphony . . . then it's just all over.
Moving along with the innumerable Gunsmoke cues:
Gunsmoke #76 This would make more sense if they'd been drinking.
Gunsmoke #77 Elegy for a Man Who Sure Has That.
The late-season Johnny Dollar cues, drawn from the library of big bad boss sounds:
Not a cue, but an ad. (Guess the show.) I love the description.
YTJD #27 Really, this stuff just got Bond-cool - and in '62, too.
YTJD #28 Punch it, Bishop!
To round out the radio offerings, another hectoring, earnest PSA.
Slums: it's up to you.
A bit more Billy Mitchell, appearing on the Internet for the first time ever! I think! Probably. It's an obscure shellac I got from the box of ancient records.
A Dootsie Williams tune about a young fellow and his automobile.
Right? I mean, that's what it's about, right?
And that'll do. Sorry about the slightly weak Bleatage, but it usually means I'm doing something, and doing things is good. Unless it's annexing the Polish Corridor, you know. See you around. Friday!