The snow wasn’t that bad. Thick and heavy, but the dreaded dump didn’t happen. Miserable wind, though. Fine gritty ice propelled into your face at jet-engine velocity. But the general mood around town seems to be: eh, whatever, you’ll be dead next week. Knock yourself out.

Just got a text form my wife, who’s at tennis: record CSI quickly please

So I opened up my iPad to call up the DVR, and realized I hadn’t used it since I changed my password, and of course that’s not at the tip of my fingers, so I’ll have to go alllll the way downstairs to take a look. I ran through the network listings: no CSI. Did a search: there it was, on a cable network, not playing right now. Okay, well, I did my best.

When she got home she said it was airing tonight, at 8, according to the email she’d gotten and just remembered because she saw the person who sent it at tennis, her daughter was in the show.

I said CSI wasn’t on. She looked at L&A: SVU and thought it might be that. Perhaps, but L&A: SVU is quite different from CSI, in number and variety of letters. She tried to find the original email, but it wasn’t in trash - eventually she found it, and the show was NCIS. And it was last Tuesday - no Tuesday of last week! Dang.

Did a search, came up with the series, scrolled back a week, and called it up.

She was amazed - how did you find it? I should have shrugged and toed the dirt and said shucks t’warn’t nuthin’ ma’am but I had to point out that it was mere child’s play to find the show ONCE I KNEW THE NAME.

But - but how did I get it from last week?

Because this isn’t 1972! We’re no longer living in a dark ages where a show is broadcast and then vanishes until the summer rerun section! Gah!

All said with good cheer, of course.


Well, we're short today, because it's a column day. Sorry. At least the redirect works! (Crosses fingers)

UPDATE: from downstairs - "I have to watch commercials?"




As I prepare the next batch of Motel Postcards - the 2020 update, I mean, he said preeningly - I come across too many sad examples of fine old motels gone to seed. I can't say this is one, although the original Holiday Inn cool has been scrubbed from the lobby.

What I enjoy are the reviews that get the management hopping into the Googleplex and telling people they're full of BS.

Buzzfeed - yes, yes, I know - had a story about the Internet DRAGGING someone but there was CLAPPING BACK. They were concerned over the woman's tattoo, which said Eff Off or something like that.

Does any era you can remember have worse celebrities? Classless, boorish, vulgar, cheap people?


It's been a few weeks. Rather than bore you with shots from the same site, let's go blocks away and look at half the project from a different perspective:

That's the Edition, which was built on my old parking lot. This wasn't here four years ago. This entire vista, save the building in the waaaay back, was empty.


Whoa - a subject of which Lance has only the barest of knowledge, but yet it's enough to trip up someone who's been running the con for years.

The guy's face is absolutely melting with dismay. Solution is here.



We continue our 2019 review of the music at the Blue Note Cafe.


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, the Casey Chord, and then custom music. Oh crap it's going to be swami stuff with people talking in accents, isn't it




Get out the tannis leaves


Meet Edna, She Of the Busted Aphorisms.



For a while every show ended with Ethelbert quote-unquoting Edna, until the writers got sick of the bit or the audience was glimpsed holding their noses.

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.


Did anyone ask where they'd been? Perhaps; they'd been reasonably popular in the 50s, but disbanded in 1958. This is from their cash-grab - er, reunion in 1960.

Wall-to-wall stereo - FIFING like you've NEVER heard it before.


This is what Dad listened to on his stereo, relaxing with a high ball while the kids listened to that damned rock and roll on the transistor.




Who isn't?


That'll do - see you Monday!

And remember, Bleat+ members - three pages of updates. If you haven't gotten your credentials, send me an email - my last name @ icloud dot com - with the subject line DILLWEED. (I believe I got everyone from last week by now. Some stuff goes to the "Junk" email box, but it's still my fault.) I appreciate your contribution and want to make sure everyone gets to experience the most exciting site on the Internet.


Oh - and for some reason I do not understand, previewing the page shows the REDIRECT DOES NOT WORK.


Also, it's here.



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