A perfect day, which doesn’t explain my testy mood this evening. It came on suddenly, at the Apple Store. I asked a clerk if he could tell me what the educational discount was on a Macbook, and he said he could get someone to help. What was my name? Okay, just wait over there, and someone will be with you in ten minutes.

What? No. The place wasn’t even busy. I went over to the laptop section and found the answer in a minute, then told the guy “one hundred bucks” and left. Showed him! Also imparted useful information for future reference! Later at Macy’s a nice clerk complimented me on my ability to find the pair of pants I wanted in the size I preferred, as if I’d just stood on a stage in a sailor suit and recited a poem. Now, now, I thought, turn this into a fun conversation. Don't be owly. So I did.

The mood passed. It was a perfect day - worked from home, had Daughter here, enjoyed the weather and sun, not a care. So hoorah! It's Friday. Let’s get to work here.

The conclusion of the Family Bible story. This was tucked in the front.

O father I am glad you are home instead of vomiting into a cuspidor

Reasons given: #4 is where many a fellow winced, because there's no way out of this one.


It's beautiful, though. And as you noted right away, no one signed it.


This one caught me by surprise:

A few years ago this area was all parking lots; now it’s . . . not parking lots.

The building going up:

This is right where I park, so there will be many updates, I’m afraid to say.

Related: the NYT ran a story about people in a Chelsea condo who pooled their money to buy the air rights to an adjacent package, so the developer wouldn’t block their views and sun. They paid about a million each. People took out loans. I understand why you’d want to do that, if you had the scratch, but it is something of a 1% problem, isn’t it? If you don’t see the indisputable charms of living in New York, it might not seem the most judicious application of resources, but to each his own.

Times comment:


Those of us who don’t live in dense loud cities with leaky subways are, for the most part, indifferent to those who chose to live in this places. Fine! You like it? Great! My choice is superior for me because of what I want, and you’re entitled to think the same of yours. But it doesn’t work that way. You have the people with single-family homes amused by people who spent huge amounts of money for tiny places, and people who spend huge amounts of money for tiny places ethically and morally contemptuous of those who want some space and lower mortgages.

If they could make us live like them, many would. If we could make them live like us, most wouldn’t.

The very definition of an unwise move:

Tiny has choice cells. To be fair, he seems a bit startled by the news.

Solution is here.




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


You know, I'm starting to detect a pattern.






Relax. You know why?


That's the last one. (NOTE: I have reviewed the upcoming month's folders. It is not, in fact, the last.)

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.


Just like Paris! Why, it is Paris! Okay it's New York.

But the orchestra leader sounds French, no?





1958 Tokyo? On toast?


That'll do - see you Monday!



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