More loveliness from the U of M. You can spy a bit of the ancient wall that keeps drunken students from falling over into the railroad trench, which is quite deep and frequently visited by, well, trains. On the extreme right, there's a bridge built a decade or so ago. It shaves five minutes off your walk.

It's a beautiful place; wish Daughter was going there. Maybe she will.

This is a normal thing from the seventh decade of the previous century.

And here's why I bring it up.

Asked Daughter what they did in TOK, which is the Theory of Knowledge class. Great teacher: his goal is to teach the students how to think, and he explores everything that shades and contorts and straightens your ability to apprehend the world in a clear, dependable, empirical fashion. They were talking about intuition as it applies to math.

“We talked about the Monty Hall Problem. Do you know what that is?”

Oh yes. And I don’t like it. I know, I know, math and proof and all that, but I don’t like it.

“Your parents,” said Wife, “actually wasted their summers watching Monty Hall.”

All these years and I never knew my wife watched “Let’s Make a Deal.” Hard-charging A student / after-school job / cheerleader, and she watched game shows? That was my summer. My loser summer.

“It came on at 12:30,” I said. “If you were watching TV when it was done you were really wasting the summer. I watched it with my Mom, though. I think she had a crush on Monty Hall.”

I’ve said this here before, but who remembers? I mean, for heaven’s sake, 21 years, five days a week. Anyway: my Mom said that Monty Hall seemed like he would be fun at parties, and that opened up a whole big world of speculation; I could see the party my Mom imagined - civilized, classy, full of laughs, everyone enjoying Mr. Hall’s bon mots and clever skill at bringing all the other party guests into the conversation.

He had hellaciously good patter, but that’s what the job required. Not all of them - your basics, your Winks, they stood at the podium and moved the show along, but Monty was a throwback to the local hosts who had to interview all sorts of people and keep the show moving.

What do I recall?

Dicker and Dicker (you know from where)

Jay, bringing something down the steps on a tray

The distinctive sound of the band, which seemed to have a combination of instruments unknown to any other game show

The sadness you felt when you saw someone in costume up in the seats that were separated from the contestant area. Someone showed up in full hardy-har mufti and was stuck up there.

The Lovely Carol Merrill

Watching some of the clips, I remember how he would walk past people, make a deal, hand out cash, and you thought: man, that’s it, they’ll never get another chance. Over, just like that. From the perspective of a sometimes broadcaster, I have to tell you that Monty Hall is amazing. The show has contestants, but it’s all Hall. He’s like a combination auctioneer - square-dance caller with a radio man’s sense of the clock.

My stars and bars, just looked at the time it’s 1:00 and I’ve been watching these videos for half an hour. Everything happens again.

There's no ghoul like an old ghoul - oh stop, you're killing me!

Never ever, ever are ghoulish puns funny. We have suffered through the cliches for our entire lives, all because of Raymond. Before Raymond the hosts were witches or old Crowley-types holding stupid seances in damp caves, but with Raymond came the insinuating puns and double-entendres made enjoyable only by his delivery and insinuating laugh.

But we'll get to him on Friday. Anyway, in case you're just joining us:

Marvel had a regrettable monster phase in the early 70s, and made tiresome comics with that old 60s staple, repurposed publicity / news photos. The ones I've chosen reference common cliches that everyone knew, until everyone didn't.

Anyone under 20 who gets this is a history PhD.

We're currently enjoying . . .

Indeed he does. Well, the Hornet was up in an airplane fighting Barlett, the flying-school owner y who knew something; there was smoke and gas. Kato watched in horror. Was this the end of the Green Hornet, his crime-fighting career over before he was well-known enough so he didn’t have to hand out buttons to explain himself?

He bailed out with the guy with whom he was fighting, and rifled through his pockets; they found a receipt from a mechanic shop, and that tied in to . . . something everyone had forgotten, since it had been a week since they saw the last episode.

They find evidence showing how the pilot-training school was rigging its planes to explode for the insurance because that’s great for business. Get this to the district attorney! the Hornet barks, because there’s nothing like chain-of-evidence in this world.

So they go right to the District Attorney, who says “Green Hornet!” Ah, so his name is getting around. Also, he has a hornet on his face.

He lays out the case against Bartlett and says “prosecute him, Mr. District Attorney! The DA says “suppose you’re trying to eliminate a rival,” and the Hornet says “Maybe.” Because he wants that outlaw image, I guess. The DA summons cops to his mansion - DAs always live in huge expensive houses, you know - and they get the drop on our hero. He gets away, but in the shootout . . . .

Bartlett SLAIN. People are only SLAIN in newspapers.

Cops plugged him. Justice done.

And . . . that’s the end of the story. Episode Four, and it’s over. Back at the Green Hornet’s office, where he’s the newspaper publisher, he says he’s been getting letters asking the paper to investigate other rackets. City’s lousy with them. Like the Parking Lot Gas Siphon Racket.

So the publisher decides to do some personal crusading, and goes to the Meadows Parking Lot. Turns out it’s connected to the other story, so the story isn’t done. The Big Boss calls on the scary-robot speaker phone . . .

. . . and tells his underlings to put out a $5,000 contract on the Hornet.

Ah, the good old days:

Once Britt (who is in reality, etc) drops off his car, it’s promptly stolen by one of the shady lot operators. And . . . car chase! A little inadvertent documentary of lost bygone LA:

And an interesting look at old parking garages, probably built in the 20s:

The garage guys are crooks, of course, so the Hornet goes back at night to investigate.

He’s really getting into this.

Well, there’s a fistfight, and like all the others, it’s short: this serial is more about driving fast in the Black Beauty while the theme song plays.

The Hornet jumps from his car to the bad guy’s car, and this proves to be . . . unwise.

So he's DEAD! Or maybe not.

That'll do; see you around.