I am on the brink of changing all my internet stuff around, so if there’s nothing tomorrow, that’s why. The fiber is finally live, and this means I’m off the copper for good. Unfortunately, the cable comes in the side of the house, and it’s the exact opposite location from where the copper comes in. My studio now get the mostest internet, thanks to the wires and the direct ethernet connection. Now the TV and the kitchen will get the most internet via wifi, and my studio - at the uppermost part of the house - is the farthest away.

So. What to do? Get an extender? I have one, but it’s weak sauce. There are several competing systems, Ooorbi and Eeeero and Ubiiiquitiiii or something, and if you check the review pages on Amazon they’re all AWESOME and WORK PERFECTLY, and the price varies from $999 to $1.49, or so it seems. I need something that can get around my early 20th century walls, which are thick as the ground floor of a 1900 skyscraper. Hooked up some old powerline ethernet units and ran some speed tests; even though I’m supposedly getting 500 googlegigajillabits out of the fiber, by the time it gets through the wiring in the house it’s 1995 AOL speed. I almost expected to see a box that said DOWNLOADING ART.

Once I get the network firm and robust, I can cancel the phone service. The only people who ever call the landline are telemarketers and my mother-in-law. That’s. It. Oh, a few other stragglers, but they can be persuaded to switch to cell numbers. My wife won’t like it, because it means she has to keep her phone on, but she’ll adopt.

Then everything will be upgraded and high-tech and crisp and up-to-date!

And life will be exactly the same as before.

A bit more Chicago. I came across a building I’d only known from pictures - no doubt walked past it before, but I saw a brochure a few years ago, and suddenly all the wires connected. The Chicago Motor Club building.



Motorists entering its light-filled, barrel-vaulted lobby would line up at counters to get road maps and travel advice. Across the lobby was a grandly scaled mural map by artist John Warner Norton. The map's sleek geometric lines picked up where those of the building left off. Its calm naturalistic palette suggested that drivers wouldn't be conquering nature; they'd be immersing themselves in it. This artful diagram was an invitation to travel, not a confusing labyrinth.

It's about six inches wide. A shot of the building when it first opened:

  The balcony now has a car; otherwise it's all the same. The logo on the left, and the details below. It was difficult to straighten them out from a shot taken from below; did the best I could.


The map is beautiful, and completely restored:

A few Moderne details - a light fixture and some trim in the archway.


More on the building here, if you wish.


That can't be comfortable.

Why is she painting the pumpkin? Well, these things matter not. What matters is the hubba factor. Bio:

June Preisser (June 26, 1920 – September 19, 1984) was an American actress, briefly popular in musical films during the late 1930s and early 1940s, many of which capitalized on her skills as an acrobat.

She made a few movies in the laste 30s. Then . . .

She continued to appear in musical comedies over the next few years, and played the character "Dodie Rogers" in seven "high school" comedy films with Frankie Darro and Noel Neill from 1946 to 1948. Her final film was Music Man (1948), and after appearing in a Los Angeles theater production of Annie Get Your Gun, Preisser retired from acting.

She divorced not long after, and taught dancing and acrobatics in Los Angeles, before moving with her son to Florida. They were both killed in a car accident during a severe storm on September 19, 1984 in Florida.

Here's a minute. It's worth it.

Comment on the video: "To think these guys were probably starving seeing as it was 1930"

There's a good chance he's serious.





Five thousand souls. A town built on tobaccy.

If I wanted to be unfair about a town, I'd start with this picture. But I don't want to be unfair.

But yet I am starting here.

Something always bereft about a closed fast-food restaurant. How can you fail selling french fries?

Because the locals haven't the scratch to buy them? Well, let's amble downtown, and see what we have.

I'm always curious about the buildings whose previous life and function isn't clear. What was that? A shop window? A garage door? I'll bet it used to be a grocery store, though. Can you tell why?

Old grocery stores had a door for going in and a door for going out.

A beautiful example of an original building - preserved, perhaps, because it had been covered up by modernization. Or just because it was left alone.

They were confident his name would always be relevant:

It has a Wikipedia entry:

It was built about 1914 for the Rasor and Clardy Company, and is a two-story, brick commercial building. The building features metalwork, stained glass and glass tile, mosaic tiles at the entranceways, wooden coffered ceilings in the display windows, and pressed metal interior cornices and ceilings. It is considered the most intact early-20th century commercial building remaining in Mullins.

As well it should be. That's probably the original door grate.

A small town 5 & 10 in its finest postwar incarnation:

Gone, but not gone.

Belk, Inc., a private department store company based in Charlotte, N.C., is the home of Modern. Southern. Style. with 293 Belk stores located in 16 Southern states and a growing digital presence.

Maybe 292 now?

The sign and the color diverts you from the curious matter of the upper floor. That type of window doesn't go with that type of brickwork.


Does the Google car always go through town on a Sunday morning?

Or is there just a scant chance of finding someone on the street?

And I hope it's not called H:


They stopped the fight after the tenth round:

Note the poured-concrete / faux-brick sidewalk. Part of a renewal effort, I'm sure. Shop Historic Downtown!

Nice little brickwork, blinded windows, Buckaroo Revival awning . . . and a few little holes and metal poles to suggest perpendicular signage.

Wonder how often that trash can fills up.

Ah! Here's something official. Laws or money, it's one or the other.


Somehow Anderson Brothers Bank doesn't sound like an ordinary financial institution.

Okay, guess what it was:

I thought: could that small window be for the projectionist? That got me searching for its previous life as a theater, and sure enough: it was . . . THE ANDERSON.

There's that name again.



Same place. Trick of the Google Street View camera; it's next door. The whole thing was the theater, I gather.

Taking applications for what? This guy looks like he's filled one out but can't find anyone to take it.

Turnkey property! Ready for business.




And finally . . .


If they wanted to trap and eat PC users, perhaps a trail of Doritos leading to the door would be less obvious.

Almost Friday! It's been a fine week. Motels await.


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