I called up my parking app and typed in the meter number, and hit the pay button. It informed me that there was no charge and my parking time would be 12 hours and 57 minutes.

Hmm. Oh: right. Holiday. The problem with this: the app will give me a warning shortly before midnight that my time is about to expire. Not really a problem, of course. But the app, and the computational infrastructure behind it, thinks my car is there. In the records left and never scoured, my car exists in a space it is not. The computers will warn me out of rote duty. The computers will be wrong.

Went online to make a booster appointment, because despite having two pokes and a positive test result I’m probably just waning all over the place. Whole lotta waning going on. I’m no more worried than I was a month or two ago. I am not fretting because I think Big Pharma Propaganda, its inescapable megaphone an inch from my ear, has been screaming about the need for another shot. It has not. I don’t know if the vaccines were oversold a tad, or new information resulted in new recommendations. Whatever. Poke me again, and I’ll take some flu juice too.

And soon it will be over!

Nnnnoooo, I don’t think so. I read a tweet tonight from a co-worker whose wife had trouble getting into the hospital, because there were too many people with COVID. He expressed the firm belief that they should stay home and die. Now. Setting aside the issue of whether these people should have gotten the vax, this belief is not something you turn off and put up on a shelf. What’s more, it comes from a place where These People were already pre-detested for your convenience. You got your mass of lumpen idiots, dismissed but tolerated as long as they keep to their provinces. To be honest, it was always okay if they died, but you kept that to yourself. Now, expressing the desire for them to die is permissible, and in some quarters, applauded.

It’s almost anti-social to say “no, the unvaccinated who end up in the hospital should survive.” At best you’ll get “well OKAY, but they’d BETTER PAY A LOT OF MONEY.”

For some these are satisfying things to say and feel, and when there’s no incentive to turn them off . . . well. There’s no incentive to

Anyway, all the slots were full this week, but I got in the week after. Might try a walk in at Walgreens at the end of the day: hey, you got any of that Pfizer? Jab me baby eight to the bar.


Apologies if someone noted this in the comments. Remember this from last week's postcard show? I said "I know that building!" and then I found the location through newspaper ads, and it was gone.

Well well well.

Now I have to figure out why the newspaper ads had a different address.

About that apartment building down the block:

It's something you can see today, and something the men in the old photo could see as well.



Do you see the little unfinished part of the bracket over the . . . the bulgy part, as we say in the trade? It drives me nuts. It's been like that forever. FINISH IT

A downgraded version of the view from the bridge. You can see how the asymmetry might, for some, be an inexplicable choice.

Thrivent Apartments still going up.


Even if the downtown boom is over, it left a lot of projects that filled up empty lots.


It's always the excessive volunteering of information that does them in.


Then again, if you give information only when asked, that's suspicious. Solution here.







Sometimes a syndicated show will have a music bed for commercials. I don't think that's the case here.

I've never heard a show take this long to get going.





He didn't have to buy a fake moustache. He already had it.

Check out the back cover copy: whooooo boy


You're thinking, so gee-tar legend who had to try some novelty gimmicks to sell records? Nope. He didn't play.

Thomas Lesslie "Snuff" Garrett (July 5, 1938 – December 16, 2015) was an American record producer whose most famous work was during the 1960s and 1970s.

If you're thinking "I'll bet that's Tommy Tedesco from the Wrecking Crew," you're right.

Garrett had an interesting career. Lots of hits.



1975: Get high! But not that type of high.


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





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