I am glad we're done with these two, and amused how the final manipulation makes it look like Mrs. Spock standing over Toni Blair.

Also, I am so sorry for this week. I have let everyone down. Or, in writing short things and not making you scroll on fast because you really don’t want to sit through 2,000 words of unmediated rambling, I have lived up to your hope. Who knows. Next week will be better; I’ve just been busy.

Took Daughter to the eye exam today at Target, and she was impressed with the new store. I initially typed “with the new sore,” and that brings up the need for contextual autocorrect, because there’s no chance anyone would be impressed with a new sore. That’s one impressive chancre there, Bob. While she was looking around I bought a screen protector for my phone, because I do not want the tiny scratches to fill it up again. I don’t know where they come from. I am always careful. The dog can scrape his claws against the glass of the back door: nothing. I put the phone in a pocket that used to have a dime, but doesn’t any more: three-inch gouge.

I know, I know - when you gouge your iPhone, it’s just turnabout.

She needs glasses, and since it’s been a while since she got a new prescription I wonder if she will put them on and be startled: dad, you aged! I haven’t seen you clearly for five years. What happened? Time’s winged chariot, child. Well, more of a bus. Time’s steadily-moving, non-winged, possibly hybrid powered bus. It’s an odd thing. Doesn’t hit you, just drags you.

In the evening, wife’s cousin came over; he’s also a professional financial adviser, and does our accounts - oh, you inhaled a bit too quickly by reflex, some of you. It’s okay. He’s quite good and has a substantial practice. It’s odd: why would you trust family with MONEY, but really, it’s okay. Apparently I am on a good track to retire, which is odd, since I have no intention of doing so. The very idea is absurd. Ahhh, now I can stop doing what I love, and defines my self-conception - no more writing for me! Staring blankly out the window, that’s the life.

Then I picked up daughter at work, and had that moody-sky / driving playlist / zoom around the lakes moment that makes me love my car, and that was the end of the day. Which was good! Except for some parts that weren’t, but so it goes. And it wasn’t the end of the day, because I have a column to write now, and it’s 10:30 PM. GAH

So forgive me. Next week will be better. (However you define that.)

Can you pinpoint exactly when I started laughing, bitterly?

"To give you the best possible experience, this site sticks as many ads and popups and social media crap as possible on the page, making it impossible to read the piece, and if you do succeed in getting interest, allow this huge ad that lurks behind the copy to completely detail your attention. ALSO BUY INSURANCE WE ARE FARMERS DUM DE DUMDUM DUM

It's like reading a book that has spring-mounted fingers that jump out and give you wet willy.

Don't worry, it's going to get more exciting. But not for this building. I mean it's nice, but it's not exciting.

It didn't look like a suburban office building in the renderings, and I still have hope it will be a sparkly floating object with magical luminescence. We will pinpoint the exact moment when this is dashed for good. Or confirmed! Who knows.

(dashed)

The likelihood today that someone has both bonds and a hollow tiger's head seem a bit low.

If you're planting glass eyes, your life isn't headed in the right direction. Solution is here.

We begin the 2019 review of the music at the Blue Note Cafe, where Casey, Ethelbert the Bartender, and Tony Marvil the pitchmaster ignore the gentle piano playing, as did most of the patrons.

Tony, you sound like you're talking into a big glass bowl.

		An appreciative live audience, no? Anyway, the usual drill - stock open, Casey Chord, custom cue. This one quotes another song you're supposed to know.

		There it is again.

		The Edna bit! Never gets old. Or funny.

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.

In what? Ohhhh, there it is.

You get that HiFi feeling right away, don't you? Put all the other records in the shade.

		1955 Promo for The Big Story.

That'll do - see you Monday!