Remember, this is sorta-kinda a hiatus week, with all expectations adjusted downwards.

I was off today, so of course I went to the office. Won’t be going tomorrow for the usual Wednesday habits - the lobby pizza, the walk around to check new construction. So Tuesday was Lobby Pizza day.

Let’s just say I had my choice of slices.

Maybe it’s the holiday week, but downtown has felt even more depopulated. Saw one guy on the street, and he braced me for a smoke in an abrasive tone. Usually I’d shrug and say don’t have any. I might have my tin of small cigars, but that's none of his business. He started yelling, and made a few steps as if to follow me into the building. In normal times when there are many people around, no big deal. Now the sidewalks seem either bereft, or instantly brittle and electric.

The pizza joint is complying. Meet the new mandate, same as the old mandate:

Had my slice at my desk and got to work finishing up some stuff for the site. The Below-The-Fold features are now finished through April of 2021.

That’s a load off my mind.

Highlight of the day: Daughter and I attempted to replicate the Dishoom Experience. It’s a group of Indian restaurants in London. It’s our destination, one of the absolutely-have-to-do things. The menus are different at each locale, and I haven’t any idea what I’m eating, except that it’s unbelievably good. The waitress - sorry, the SERVER UNIT just picks out some stuff and a half-dozen small plates and bowls appear and you eat until you die of bliss.

No Dishoom this year. Who knows what 2021 will - I almost said bring, but the correct term is permit. So tonight we split four Traders Joe frozen Indian entries in ascending order of hotness. DON’T LAUGH. Okay go ahead, I guess. But it was fun to pretend. I asked the Echo Panopticon Device to play “Indian music,” just to see what would come up. The actual playlist at Dishoom is more modern, and you’ll hear 60s Indian pop to go along with the 60s travel posters and magazine covers. The Echo came up with the obligatory sitar, then settled into some piece that was literally a group of women singing the same note for about five minutes, like someone put John Cage’s brain in Brian Eno’s skull.

Highlight of the day, as I said. Then a walk in the autumnal mist with the dog, thinking: did I do enough today? Did I fix something, create something, go somewhere, see things, work on something due today and due some far-flung day? I did. Did I blow off a few things I should have done?

I've a bad habit of screenshotting odd or revelatory tweets. They tend to pile up. For the rest of the year on Wednesday we'll tour some piquant things said by folks great and small. These are mostly from one side of the aisle, since progressive absurdities are all over the road and masked in Logic and Science and Justice and Decency, and right-wing absurdities are usually short, employ "libtard" lingo, and end with all-caps hashtags. They're not as interesting.

This could just be a result of who I follow, or who retweets what. You can't quite get the full flavor of anything on Twitter unless it's something that everyone hates, and then the entire community rallies as one.

I'd put the "Wednesday Review of Modern Thought" logo here, but something screwed up the code on this page and I can't get the fix to stay, and have given up trying.

		I'm pro-mask, inasmuch as i wear one because I figure it provides a certain amount of protection about worrying what would happen if I didn't want one. But this is just a bit much, no? THIS IS MY FACE MASK, THIS IS MY GUN ONE IS FOR SIGNALLING, ONE IS FOR FUN
		I wonder if they have wead-out seshions at the copy-editer auditions
		After another iteration of pointless property damage by Antifa, the mayor Strongly Disapproved, and was quickly rebuked. You ridiculous people with your preposterous definitions of "Violence." Did the buildings say "OW"? No? Then it was not violence. Moreover, words are violence, and the system is systemically violence. Please try to keep up
		This is just golden. Toronto Sun writer chastizes restaurant owners for selling food that does not align with their skin color. As many pointed out, she culturally appropriated American / Southern culture terms to express her dismay, as if her identity as a Marginalized Canadian entitles her to use AAEV whenver she wishes.
		It hurts. I mean damn she tryna, y'all. Also, she legit threw out food cos white kids made fun of it all day. I don't mean to challege her lived experience, but what was it about Canadian culture and its innate cruelty that produced such relentless taunting? I'm sorry she had to eat Ass Turkey, let alone dry Ass Turkey. Also HELLA which is completely not appropriated culture.
		Oh gosh imma hella not
		Chalk one up for strict racial categories on who is allowed to operate certain types of businesses involving racially-related foodstuffs!
		Meanwhile, down in Australia, an exasperated woman has to appeal to the police to keep her husband from doing something dangerous and foolish. I remember when Australians were regarded as raw-boned individualists who had Convict Blood coursing through their veins.

The tweet was followed by lots of earnest Aussies quite proud of their compliance. It's not about walking your dog, it's about everyone staying safe!

Yes but I'm just walking the dog, outside. How is this unsafe?

#allinthistogether #stayhome #staysafe

Okay great, you stuck a tiny tic-tac-toe grid in front of rote bromides. I will readjust my notions of individual liberty accordingly.

It's 1915.

It’s a usual example of the times; a man had to clear his schedule and settle down for some serious reading.

When cars are few and small-town news is scant, you really, really, really dive deep into the particulars of a car accident.

		Thank you, Mr. Public-Spirited Citizen Who Has Done Well! It’s still there, and still the local library. Mr. Taylor was one of the original White settlers in the early 1870s.

		Let’s check in on the town of Barney, and see what news beams forth. O D SHEETZ

Not a lot in Barney. Here’s the technical description:

And the reality:

The Home Ventilator! It works by . . . throwing lines all over the place.

So, no ducts? Just grates?

		Red Pep burned down the entire main street when his unattended cigar fell into the waste bin

		Cheerful news! I think the word “is” might have been swapped out with something else.

You’ve never heard of the arctic sea cow! And now they’re gone.

That'll do! See you around.