The week of meh concludes with this sprightly collection of miscellany, and concludes with the Gallery of Regrettable Food - now in its 23rd year, I think. Or 22. Quite a long time, in any case. The Motels have been going on for almost two decades; I remember working on the site in a hotel room in New York before Daughter was born, driving myself nuts over the stupid system I had for linking one page to the other. I think the pictures were probably about 500 pixels wide, and there must have been, oh, 30 of them. The only place to go on the internet if you wanted annotated motel postcards!

Anyway, I’ve been picking away at a column all day, which is bad. Usually I turn on the spigot and the column comes out and then I turn it off after 900 words, but I got the idea for the piece two days before I had to write it, and that usually leads to the brain thinking the piece is done, when it’s not.

Enough throat-clearing.

Friday means the odds & ends, the things that have piled up in the Misc folder. Some dog for you:

Guess who almost ate a mouse? He was chomping on something in a furtive fashion outside, giving me the stink eye, as if to say, this stinks, and it's mine. Don't even think about it. As I found out today, it was frozen solid. Frustrating.

Those who enjoy bad design will nod with satisfaction here. It's rare to see a big company do something like this.

The one of!

A kind taste of!

In related product news, here's two more of the unending brand extensions from the Needless Oreo Development Sector of the economy:

Note: the Creme is Cream.

I've never been a big fan of carrot cake, becaue the two words just don't seem to belong together. It's like Beet Pie.

'Tis the season. 'Tis always a season.

The creme flavor is "tangy."

Something I saw at the Home Depot the other day. Now, you might think this is an ordinary enough sight, and you'd be right.

What's in the bin? Well, can't be anything interesting, but who knows. Let's take a look -

No, no thank you, no

Finally, to repeat something I tweeted this week:

I hope that floor has a bathoom, and I hope the elevator's swift.

The core continues to rise, a big ugly finger - but that's the second block. The first block is above ground and two stories up.

It's always the worst part of any project.

And now . . .

In 2019 we're doing the proper Lance, not Mumps Lance. This is standing copy, and it goes on to say "Most of these haven't been used here, but if there are a few repeats, I think you'll forgive me. If not, I'll have Tiny work you over in the kidneys with a phone book."

Why is Lance teaching a high school history test?

Solution is here.

We begin the 2019 review of the music at the Blue Note Cafe. Remember Casey? Flashgun Casey, the guy we met on Monday? There was a fairly successful radio show based on the character, and for a while the producers popped for a lot of orchestrated sound cues.

Every show began the same way, at least during its heyday. The theme, a piano glissando down to the melody playing in the background of the bar, and some fourth-wall breaking with Ethelbert the bartender, Caset the Crime Photographer, and Tony Marvin, the shill.

		And then this: introducing the Ace Cameraman who's in a City. then a custom cue and a really, really evocative description of the setting.

		Here's the Inspector, who naturally appreciates the constant input of a newspaper photographer. Do you think this ep had an . . . academic setting?

		Music for Elgar's funeral, perhaps.

Over the next 10 months we'll explore the way this formula was used again, and again - with a few embellishments, the introduction of a tiresome aphorism-spouting sister for the bartender, some novel background piano improv, and the rest.

It's not a great show. There were worse.

2019 returns to the bins, and the records dumped back into the world when someone dies and the kids give the contents of Mom and Dad's entertainment system to the Goodwill.

There was a time when everyone looked forward to hearing some vibes instead of feeling them, and he was the best.

		It's just a joy to hear.

		From 1959: a South African cigarette commercial. Nine out of Ten Federation rebels prefer them!

That'll do - see you Monday. If you made it this far, you can get a head-start on next week's fundraiser by hitting the support button! Note: all money (Minus ten percent for site costs) goes to Natalie's college.