The internet installer came this morning, and did not install internet. He installed the means by which I will get the internet when the fiber is strung, later this year. The amusing part: right now, the internet comes in a wire in the backyard, directly into my studio, and I broadcast the wifi signal to the rest of the house. The TV is at the absolute opposite part of the house. Now the internet will come in by the TV, and my studio will be the absolute opposite end of the signal. I'll probably go with a powerline ethernet adaptor to get a good signal, but it's just a reminder that nothing ever works the way you want when you're retrofitting old homes for things like this. They can't fish wires through the walls, there's no way they're going to drill through brick or trench a tunnel to get the wire in the right place. You just wish there were boxes on top of every other streetlight blaring out 100 MPS wireless - well, actually, there is. I don't know how fast it is, but there is a wireless network around the city, built a few years ago, and I don't know if anyone uses it but the city. Googling . . .
Ah. Whoa: it has speeds of up to six megabits per second. As of 2010, there were 27,000 customers.
So, no. It's our Minitel. Or Médium interactif par numérisation d'information téléphonique, if you prefer.
Ordinary day, characterized by something you will see below. I have nothing to add except we are, perhaps, three weeks away from the next novel appearing in the Amazon Kindle store. It was an absolute joy to write, and has my favorite character ever. He walked into the novel and just set it on fire. All I can say is this: just don't ask him about Scranton. It's complicated.
It snowed. A lot. It began around noon, and gave everything a storybook aspect. iIt slowed everything down and put a thick pillow over the face of the world and gave the day the character of December, without the duties and imperative pressures of Yule.
It was a nightmare by commute time, of course. But traffic on the way home still left the bike lane alone. They reduced the street from three lanes to two for bikes, of which there are few. We're so well-trained we don't even think of driving in that lane.
I wonder if this will get the site banned or blocked:
Last Thursday a worried grandfather voiced his concerns about the increasing incidents of sexual harassment of young girls on their way to school by migrants in a meeting in the German town of Bad Schlema. His own granddaughter has been victim of sexual harassment and he fears it will be much worse when girls will wear less clothing in the summer or dress for physical education. The mayor's reply angered the over 100 citizens who were present: "It's simple, don't provoke them and don't walk in these areas."
You can imagine how well that went over.
The crowd went furious, some mocked the absurdity of not being able to walk to school in your own town, some demanded he step down immediately. Later the situation escalated and the Mayor threatened to call the police and clear the room because of incitement of hatred (sources below).
He said it's "technically not necessary to walk near the refugee shelters, there are alternative routes."
Now. Simply posting this isn't controversial, is it? The event happened. Assuming the translation is correct, the question and the response are a matter of record. The reaction of the crowd is illustrative, and perhaps a window into larger concerns of the German people. Or at least the good folk of Bad Schlema, a spa town of 5,000 souls. This would seem to be news.
But it's questionable because A) the related videos on the page may go to unsavory places, or at least places with video of unsavory sentiments; B) the point of posting the piece is problematic, because it encourages improper conclusions, and C) it emboldens the wrong kind of people who are motivated by xenophobia or nationalism.
In short, it's not helpful. When you get right down to the truth, no good can come of it, which is probably the intention of anyone who points you to the video. Best to block any site that embeds it. You've no idea what else they might do.
She had famous music hits?
Neil Hefti was a busy, busy man.
I know, that was unfair to Alice. Not only that, it's just plain wrong: "Alice introduced almost twice as many hits in movies (23) as each of her closest competitors: Judy Garland (13), Betty Grable (12), and Doris Day (12)." The story on her career's conclusion usually goes like this:
As Faye's star continued to ascend during the war years, family life became more important to her, especially with the arrival of a second daughter, Phyllis. After her birth, Faye signed a new contract with Fox to make only one picture a year, with the option of a second one, to give Faye a chance to spend more time with her family.
Faye finally accepted the lead role in Fallen Angel, whose title became only too telling, as circumstances turned out. Designed ostensibly as Faye's vehicle, the film all but became her celluloid epitaph when Zanuck, trying to build his new protege Linda Darnell, ordered many Faye scenes cut and Darnell emphasized. When Faye saw a screening of the final product, she wrote a note to Zanuck, went straight to her car, gave her dressing room keys to the studio gate guard, and drove home, vowing never to return to Fox.
She went on to a radio career with her husband, Phil Harris, and the show - unlike so many radio comedies - holds up perfectly today.
From the Disc of Flying Mars, the Man. Chapter Ten:
None of those lovely-dovey weapons this time, pal.
The recap reminds us how little is going on and how little we remembered from last week:
If you recall from last week, Helen - that's her name! - was unconscious while flames licked the floor. The Aerial Torpido puked out some fuel and the motor set it on fire, and like most rocket fuels, it just burned instead of exploding. Well. However will she survive.
I've got to think that's from another serial. One where everyone cared.
Back at the office, where secretary makes a very good point. Hold on - NO, NO, NO, NOT THE RECOLLECTION AND DISSOLVE
It's the dreaded clip show, the recap. C'mon. It's chapter 10. There are only two more after this. If you need to bring anyone up to speed, the time for that was a few episodes back.
They really don't have anything in the tank anymore. But we need a cliffhanger, so after ten minutes of recaps, Kent says he's going to go to the District Attorney and get a search warrant so he can find out if the plant has an atomic bomb.
Because they hand those out to civilians all the time.
Well, the would-be ruler of Earth is sick of his underling's bumblings:
This means that Dr. Quisling has to eeeeliminate Fowler once and for all, so he sends his best hench to find Kent and kill him but good. They come up with a foolproof plan:
A grenade. Powerful enough to kill a man, but not enough to knock off his hat. A gun battle follows. Kent runs out of bullets, and hides in the closet while he takes about half an hour to reload his pistol. And so:
Sigh.
Well, two more to go.
No more of these parsimonious updates - the Thirties section will have eight, nine pages a week. Today: beauty ads. Standards have changed a bit, as you'll see.
