Three things happened today of note, and each made the day far better than I’d thought it would be. Breathing a bit easier. First of all - once again, it was warm. I know this sounds like a silly little thing to keep mentioning, but it’s November, and it’s decent. It’s light-jacket weather, and the world is right at the point where the last hues of autumn are almost uniformly gold.

When it's like this and it's warm . . . it's heaven.

That's downtown, outside my office.

Second: I put the old sofa out on the boulevard, intending to put a message on the local boards for a CURB ALERT! Which is what people do when they want to get rid of something. Someone always takes it. Well, I got busy at work right away, and forgot to put the message on the boards, and winced when I was heading home - ahh, wife will see the message, note the time, and give me a wifely look. Why did you wait so long?

But when I drove up the sofa was gone. They left the cushions, shredded by puppy Scout, but took the sofa. In a matter of hours. Vanished. This made me happy, and even I had enough happiness left after I drove over the box the UPS guy put in the driveway. He couldn’t be arsed to go up the stairs, so he left it by the garage, and it blended in with the leaves. Drove right over a shipment of cigars. Great. Called UPS and they said there was nothing they could do - why, they’d put on the website a note where it was left.

Because everyone checks the website before they drive home to see if the UPS driver deviated from the 99-out-of-100-times procedure.

I stunk up Twitter about it, and UPS contacted me and wants information so they can make it right. So that’s good.

The highlight was a photoshoot with Fancy Ray, local force-of-nature, comedian, and pitchman. Criminey, can he testify. It’s for a piece I’m doing on ad men, and I mocked up a fake box for him to hold - marking the first time some of my graphic work will make it into the paper. A small thing, but it pleases me.

Oh, we had fun:


And that was today, and it was all good.

Now the usual Friday stuff, and we’re done.


The Kraus-Anderson block from another angle - the long low line of stores and offices.

From up the block: do you know what they're doing here?

Right: it's the official blessing of the Concrete Stork.



Back to music cues for "The Little Things in Life," Peg Lynch's last continuously running sitcom. The cues run from substandard 60s cues to cringingly 70s, and I'm surprised at how few there were. I think I'm already repeating what I previously played. In fact I know I'm already repeating the fact that I think I'm repeating myself, but on we go: this is the sound of narrative radio in its strange last gasp.

Elegy for a small drunk sailor:




Adult music from the 70s; flutes for the fern bar.


Sideburns and jazz combos.


From 1960, a jokey ad from the new style of affectionte parody.




Man, that announcer is so . . . wonderfully typical. Hard shell finish indeed.

Thanks to the low bitrate of some of these encodes, the entire show is sometimes smaller than some of the standalone bits.



The whole thing! 59.08.18




Damned straight. Or is that heteronormative? Anyway, from the days when no one knew what that word meant: Western story music is the best.

I met Ed Ames once, but it was before I found this album. This song sounds like it should be a TV show.


Well, they would call him that, if was making that sound all the time.


Was he called that because it was actually his name?

Glad this week is done. Next week? MORE OF THE SAME.

And that's a promise.


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