I’m pleased to announce that I have extended a three-day painting / repair job into an actual month, thereby giving the impression that it is much more work than it is. But it’s something to do! Step one: think about what needs to be done tomorrow, and go buy the materials so I can get right to it in the morning. Step two: spend the morning fixing the 60s site, because it is a mess; all the typefaces are too small. Batch search-and-replace. Check links - gah. Well, who cares. I mean, obviously, I do, but it’s not the end of the world. Finish site, check for more 60s updates in the 2021 to do folder (which would be uploaded in 2022) - no. Move to the lileks.com complete folder, which is the Gold Standard, the finished version, the ultimate website. There are instructions in my papers to upload it should I be struck by lightning.

Step three: lunch

Step four: go down to the tunnel, look at the old water leakage from who knows when, something that came in via the garage. Hasn’t leaked in te years. Remove the paint. Spray half of the area with the stuff I used to touch up spots on the tunnel. Well, we’d better let that dry and see how it looks tomorrow!

Step five: sit on the steps reading something on the phone for half an hour so it looks like I’m really doing something down here

Step six: emerge from basement, ready for accolades; no accolades to be had, since wife hadn’t noticed the spot at all. It’s infuriating, but I understand: when she passes through the tunnel she is, or was, either on her way to work and already thinking about the job, or late for tennis. In either case she is not scanning for problems in that particularly female way, and it’s my luck that the one unscanned thing at Jasperwood is the thing I’ve decided to fix.

Sunday: Football. Without a crowd. Back at the Giant Swede’s house, as is the tradition. The Crazy Uke blows in like an RPG, as is the tradition. Oaths are muttered, expressions of triumph: kapusta! Football! It has begun again!

Is it the same?

It's like this.

It felt irrelevent. It was fun to watch, but there wasn't any feeling that the season had begun. It was a thing that was on.



Remember this one?


Brougt to you by . .

It begins with a rather remarkable commercial: the host reads an editorial from the Masland house organ, The Shovel.

So, what's the calendar look like?

If you were a kid, or a sci-fi geek, you lived for stuff like this on your TV.

They’re on Mars, with a pup tent, smoking cigarettes. The guy on the right is one of the most recognizable voices of radio sci-fi from the 50s, but that’s not saying a lot. William Renfield, whose most famous role might have been in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

Leslie Nielsen has just brought out the beer.


Then there’s this guy, complaining about the fact that Mars has no people:

Quite the crew. Well, they’re looking for minerals for the company that sent them, and you know what they find? URANIUM!

Eight minutes into it, and you suspect you know the ending. They’re picking up the traces of an ancient nuclear war! That was only the plot of 3,943,620 stories.

Or not; Brian Keith starts to get morose and distracted, then says he has a headache and starts yelling at everyone. So maybe he’s been infected with the madness that made the Martians kill each other?

Renfield and Keith just have the yips something bad. It’s this planet! It’s getting on their nerves!

I won’t spoil it for you: see if you can figure out how it ends.

I didn’t.

That'll do; Matches await.



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