Some Fridays feel earned, some feel like a rote reiteration of the last, some feel like a combination of the two. I think I was happiest this week about the things I am planning to do, which of course will end in tears unless I actually start doing them. Which I did. I’m two episodes into Season 2 (hah!) Of the Ramble podcast, which is just that: babbling. On a particular subject. Talk until done.

The second project is also a podcast, and I have to strike hard and fast on this one or it will overwhelm. If I can get two eps in, the story will feed on itself. I have no idea where it’s going, except exactly how it ends, and in between there will be lots of old, odd, wonderfully peculiar music from other eras. I’m ready. I always said I never go back there until I want to, and I’ve no idea what drives me back there. But back I want to go.

Anyway. Friday, so let’s get to the usual desultory obligations.

I gather the Internet yesterday was all about the price of a gallon of milk. It was one of the Three Things that usually constitute the Discourse. It’s odd to encounter people who don’t know the cost of things, if you ask me, but I would say that, since I do the shopping. We should also talk about the price of cheese, which has leaped up a whole dollar in all its forms and permutations.

There are three kids of block cheese. National Brand, Local Brand, Store Brand. At the local chain that has the price-friendly reputation, customers probably have no loyalty to any brand, and go with the BOGOFs. National will be $2.89, local will be 2 for $5 when it’s on sale, Store brand will come in under $2.50. You go with Local, because the packaging is nicer and only costs, oh, 30 cents more.

But now it’s all jumped up. National is $3.59, the local is 2 for $6.

Pasta is holding steady, but I wonder if it’s been moved into a loss-leader category. Aren’t many of those.

Read a tweet today from someone who said that the pundits are talking about inflation because they have to talk about something, and maybe after a decade of no inflation, a little uptick isn’t a bad thing. It’s like saying the poor neighborhood in town hasn’t had a tornado for ten years, so maybe a twister or two isn’t a big deal.

Detritus? I suppose.

I’ve been staring at this ad on my Spotify app for a few minutes. It’s for “Salesforce,” and the copy says Reach your customer from anywhere with Customer 360 and Slack.

So . . . you can reach your customer about the parachute when she is . . . not using it, but plunging to her death, because she's distracted by a Slack notification? Also, cute CGI character because he's in the TV ads and surveys show he tests well among people who remember him! (Which is 3%, but nevermind) Also, BIRD that looks like a logo but who knows. ALSO, our campaign is working! Something people absolutely say in sincerity and everyone else is happy about it, 100! Four of them 100!

Something in the bush in the hotel parking lot I cross daily:

At first I thought it was DeeDee from Dexter's Laboratory, but it's from the Hey Arnold thing.

Brand new; some poor kid left it behind after a family trip to the Mall of America.

Or, it's a warning.

 

I tried to get into the Thrivent building to look around yesterday, but skyway access is blocked. Card only. This feels as if it violates some understanding we all used to have. But the building hangs on the periphery of the system, and there’s no other destination beyond it. I wonder if I can get into the lobby, or if that’s private as well.

If so, that’s also a violation. Not of a law or ordinance, but just an expectation. Buildings have public spaces. They’re controlled and defined and come with rules, and if you haven’t any business there, you’d best move along. You can loiter all day in the larger public spaces, but not the elevator lobby. You have a place to be, and this isn’t it. What’s the place you’re supposed to be? Up to you. It’s just not here.

The skyway to the library isn’t open yet. It’s finished, but blocked off. I went through the library on the ground floor, masking up because that’s the law again. Law? No, rule. There’s a statue from the old library, a symbol of beauty, learning, contemplation. She’s masked. Anyway. The view from the area by the blocked skyway.

Hey, RBC, I'm doing my best to make you look good here.

The view from behind the library, aka: the Weekly Sweep.

 

You have no idea how many jewels were stolen at fancy dress balls in those days.

 

Can you imagine the sequence of events? I did. Solution here.

(Note: I was wrong.)

 

 

 

   

 

Another cue from the "Thirteenth Juror" show. You have to feel bad for the composer; he obviously has to write to the action. If he's not going to be heard but absorbed as part of the scene, why give if your best?

 

 

   

 

"Who? Oh."

 
   

Ah, the marvelous warm bath of a 60s arrangement. Then that C&W piano, and tremulous, overemoting.

     

   

We all knew him, and liked him, but . . . motion picture's most important stars?

   

   
  Thank your for your visits this week. Back on Monday!
   

 

 

 

 

 
blog comments powered by Disqus