Daughter came downtown to the office, just for a change of pace, and to see what it looks like when no one’s around.

It looks like no one’s around, is what it looks like.

She sat in the upstairs common area, and I made a pot of coffee. The beans are probably from March. Don’t know the last time someone made a pot. The “Northwoods” roast slot of the grinder was empty; had to do with “Cafe Java.” The vending coolers have some sodas, but no sandwiches. I’ve bought stuff now and then, and have duly beeped the bar codes and paid, even though I don’t think someone’s going to review security tapes from the last six months when everything gets back up to speed. It’s the right thing to do, that’s all.

She’s working on her novel. I’m finishing a column. It’s a good day. Take them one at a time and be grateful the lawn repair guy showed up at 6:42 AM and the dog went nuts, because it woke me up after 5 hours of sleep and gave me more day to enjoy!

Actually, I went back to sleep. Yay! And had the worst dream. Boo. I had to pick up something at the office, except this was a duplicate facility for the StarTrib; somehow I expected that the item at my desk would be at the mirror location. (I did not run into myself with a beard.) It was not a mirror, though - more like a decayed industrial location with elevators that did not go to the right floor, disused equipment everywhere.

There were also lots of children running around, because some Strib employees had shown up to clean. My inability to get where I wanted to go built a sense of confusion and panic, culminating in trying to get out of an elevator just as it began to rise, pinning me in that nightmare scenario where you're bisected by the floor - I had excellent clarity about the gravity of the situation, and was prepared to meet my doom, but it stopped, and I tumbled out, knocking over a bottle of cleaning solution the Strib employees had set out.

I looked down at the spilled pool, and thought FABULOSO, and was about to help clean it up when the alarm jerked me awake. I've never felt so exhausted in my life.

Fabuloso. It's damned odd how brands you never use get filed away for use in dreams, as the stage manager handing the impromptu drama reaches for everything on the prop shelf.

I usually hate dream sequences in movies and TV shows, because they never capture the essence of the experience. Why? Why must everything be SPECIFICALLY SYMBOLIC, and then oddly stilted, with people saying cryptic things? I've never seen a dream sequence that captures the calamity and frustration of those manic brain explosions, the ones where you are trying to run but you're too slow, the sudden appearance of impossible spaces.

In the dream I realized I was taking more time to perform this task than I had anticipated, and since I had left Daughter in the car (which was behind a berm at the end of the parking lot) I texted her to say I was coming soon, but before I sent it she sent a text:

FATHER

And then I sent my text, pleased that it looked as if I was responding with utmost alacrity. When I told this to Daughter IRL she laughed, because that is just the text she would have sent when I was gone too long and she was wondering what was up.

"Sounds right," she said.

This was later, when we went to Chick-Gil-A, as I wrote when I texted the dinner suggestion.

HYBRID CHICKEN-FISH SANDWICH she had texted back. We ate in the car, sitting in the Cursed Spot.

But that's something for Monday.

Okay, tons of junk now.

Let's make fun of the miserable link chum that infests the internet, this page included. We will laugh and point. The medical ones are some of the worst, because they rely on the Unexpected Symptom.

   
  Uh oh! I've fallen asleep on the sofa? Could I have it?
   
  Uh oh! I woke up in Downtown Julie' Brown's body! I might have psoriasis!
   
  Uh oh! I've had itchy feet - this could be the reason! Then again, I don't paint my nails, so maybe I'm safe.
     

There are a million of these. My favorite is the one for lung cancer that shows someone with a backache. I hate them. It's probably on this site.

   
 

I had to click on this one, of course. Tell me! Tell me which one! If I hadn't manipuated the URL, it would have taken 30 clicks to get to . . .

   
 

. . . to get to the fact that the link had lied. A City in Minnesota did not top the list.

Clickbait lied! I know, I know - who the hell can you trust these days?

From my vast collection of things with almost no monetary value whatsover, I bring you this week's entry.

   
 

It's a question of which word is "pike," right?

It's the first one.

   

Dense as a neutron star.

The weekly 5 second sweep, from RBC to the new apartment tower going up on the other side of Hennepin.

Note: the facade is already going up.

A closer look:

Sheets of pre-fab pseudo-bricks.

Eh.

Sure, a girl. Sure. He said something mean and I scratched him!

I love these cut-to-the-chase ones more than anything. Three panels, and in the third he's walking the last mile.

Solution is here.

 

 

 

   

It's another of the "Escape" or "Chase" shows, except the theme is almost hilariously incompetent.

 

 

   

 

 

 

Black of the Yard!

 

     

 

 

 

Dehner's great, but this is not a good show.

I think it takes a bit too long to get going, no?

I hate this stuff. Your mileage may vary

   

 

 
   

ROYAL + CANADA + MINSTRELRY

Okay.

   

 

 
Or you could drink a stiff Scotch like a man
   

That'll have to hold you until Monday, when it all starts up again for some reason. See you then.

 

 

 
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