I went to the State Fair, because it opened today and that is what I do. I got to the State Fair. That will be Monday’s Bleat, and it will have somewhat less anguish than last year, since I don’t have to do shows on the stage every - damned - day. It was odd and bittersweet. The whole day was askew, in a not unpleasant way, and I felt as if I sleepwalked through it all. Like I’m on rails. It’s a good thing I’ve got buckets of stuff to give you, and I hope one or two items appeal.

If not, well, we can always pin our hopes on Monday, right? With a new Bleat Ban that might last the week. If you’re wondering why I switched in midweek - and I suspect that kept a lot of you up at night, tossing - it’s just because it was a summer image, and I wanted to post it before summer ends.

But what makes it summer? Might it not stand for some romantic bygone 60s-California dream of life? I suppose. I don't think there's anyone in America immune to that vision. For that matter, it's global - last night Daughter was telling me about how her Brazillian friends looked to America, wanted to come here, work, create, flourish in ways that were walled off at home, and not because they didn't belong to the proper class. They did! But up here, so much, so many open doors, so much space, so many chances.

They follow our culture, our memes, our bounteous production of ideas. Daughter described the thrill that ran through the audience when she saw "Avengers: Endgame," and Captain America said "Avengers . . . assemble" in Portuguese.

Anyway, that's another Bleat.


But why? What compelled to me to keep any of this crap? Because it peeved or amused in that joyless-internet-amusement way.

This ad . . . well, I don't know what to do with it. Obviously the most recent opportunity to bring in something London-related has passed. Do I keep it in a top folder for another year, or consign it to the depths of the digital archives?

I think you know why I can't keep it around, but why it's oddly compelling: she's real, and he isn't.

He was horribly maimed in the war and wears a cellophane mask.

Let's see what else is in the bin. . .

  No one has a "Stranger Things"-shaped hole in their heart but they might possibly overestimate the relationship they have with celebrities

Anything else?

Can't wait to read this because I'm sure after I do the six things I'll be forgiven for ever and ever and safe from accusations!

Finally: the food trucks outside my office are wrapped with top-notch professional graphics.

All but one, that is.



The exciting dual service cores of the new Public Service Building!


Remember, these boring early shots are for context, so you can say with smug pleasure "I saw that one go up. We're old friends."



This one's stalled for a bit; most of the work in the building on the right will be interior work.

The one on the right is better than it might seem. It looks suburban, yes, and I suppose it is but the color and type of glass give it a transparency that's quite nice.

Meanwhile, in Uptown, the housing block on the Sons of Norway block is topped off and ready for its "brick" facade:

The crown will be impressive and solid! But we'll remember that it was naught but wood.


You fancy doctors with your book learnin' and all

Hunch-wise, you go with Lance. Solution is here.



Something different this week, thank heavens.


It's our old friend. Note: he probably doesn't think of us in the same terms.






It's a CBS show called - well, you know, you just heard it.


This is more uncollected incidental music, just sitting in these old shows, waiting for someone to do something with them.


It's a grim account of a dead soldier.


. . . telling his story from the grave.




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.


Wikipedia: "Burns carefully hid his homosexuality throughout his life." Obviously not carefully enough, if they can say that.



The song is dedicated to a city in Greece, inhabited since the 26th century BC, according to Wikipedia. If I said more the copyright police would be on me.

It's a fair cop.





For people of a certain time period, the opening notes tell you exactly what's coming, and who will be saying it.


That'll do - see you Monday!



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