It's something of a relief to be done with the Presidential campaign so early out. To just let it go and watch the parade from a distance. Oh, I'll be writing about it here and there, but as with most of the people at the publication for which I write twice a month, it's from the perspective of Cicero at the villa after Augustus takes over. Not to say we're Cicero. But when you have a presidential candidate saying someone shouldn't be allowed to say that, you do look at your hands and wonder how long they'll be attached. Metaphorically, of course.

Elsewhere on Ricochet I saw the news that Cruz - who was never my guy; never liked his mannered style, his incessant high-school-drama recitations - had closed up shop, and this paragraph came out. Overripe but what the hell.

Now begins the parade of up-sucking, the long line of supplicants, the ring-kissers, the apple-polishers, the catamites eager for a taste of liver-spotted hand, and all the other intellectually flexible party stalwarts looking to climb on the painted horse and look like they've been on the carousel all along. Here comes the Establishment, to fasten on Trump like a suit of remoras. He'll twist and turn before the mirror and conclude it looks pretty damn good. It's what winners wear.

Well, at least it's beautiful outside.

That's the suburbs - in particular, the view from the Traders Joe lot. Below, the Government Plaza park. You can see a bit of the building in the upper left-hand corner to remind you it's the city.

This spring would be great if there wasn't such madness in the air.

Annnnnd that's all I got today. Except for everything else.

Do Camels help this man consume nutrients without pain or vomiting? They do! They do!

Wasn't that the name of the hero of "Saturday Night Fever"? Well, different Tony. This fellow won a lot, and then retired; seems to have lived 40 more years after he left the professional circuit. What did he do?

Golfed a lot, probably.

This week in the adventure of the Scientist with an Undefined Speciality vs. the Guy in an Ugly Mask:

But? That was sort of a given.

When last we saw him he was unconscious, and the lab blew up. Guts everywhere! Bone fragments embedded in the rock walls!

Of course, no.

They can always shake it off pretty easily. Back at Science Central, the remaining eggheads convene to discuss why the Ghost might want heavy water. To build a huge Cyclotrode, of course. Also, he has a glove he ripped off Crimsy's hand, and plans to dust all the lab wreckage for a fingerprint.

One of the scientists stands. Remember, one of these guys could be the Crimson Ghost. COULD IT BE HIM?

After everyone's left the room, we cut to the underlit office where the . Shadowy Quisling makes a call to Ashe to tell him to stop Duncan. Could it be the scientist who stood up? Or is this just clever misdirection?

In the car Duncan tells All-Purpose Gal that the "fingerprint story" is just bait to get him to show up at the warehouse to stop them. Ashe heads into the countryside to take out Duncan with a fargin' Elephant gun.

He used gas grenade! It's not very effective. So we have a gun battle in the hills; Ashe runs out of bullets and runs away. Duncan's car is disabled, so they run to the warehouse, a mere half-mile away.

This is the warehouse.

I seem to remember a serial that had a truck going through the back of a warehouse on the pier. (Remember, I write these as I watch them.) The Quisling Professor is in the warehouse, and insists he can explain everything. But is he the Crimson Ghost? Of course not.

This could have been staged and edited a bit better. But there's my favorite kind of fist-fight after that: hats securely on, empty boxes stacked up for scatterin':

The attention paid to dropped guns is off the charts here. Elsewhere the fight continues, sans hats - and you know what I love about this?

It's about the tenth time these guys have had a fist-fight in the last 72 hours, and they're starting to develop a coordinated routine.

But finally: Duncan remembers the lessons of Indiana Jones.

Man, what took you so long. Alas, the Crimson Ghost found the dropped gun, and fires back at Duncan because that's all this whole thing is about, really.

All-Purpose Gal wakes up, gets in the truck, and yes: I was correct.

I wonder if anyone in the theater remembered that from previous serials.

I wonder if we'll see it again in another one.

Thinking: no, and yes.

That will have to do; see you around - although there's fun to be had with the Middletons at the World's Fair below. It's progress versus . . . Bolshevism!