Perfect day. The last of the year. Oh, it’ll be sunny again. There will be another day where the colors are lovely. But it was 81, and we shan’t see that for a long time.
I was out in the backyard throwing the stick to Birch in the waning light. Usual dog routine: you must throw the stick. Now I have the stick. You cannot have the stick. But you must throw the stick. I hurled it high, and he ran - but he lost it in the dim light, and I couldn’t follow its trajectory to its conclusion. I thought I’d thrown it too hard, over the fence, so I went to look because it’s his favorite stick. He’s been working on it for months. It’s a really good one: thick but not too thick, hard but not unyielding to the tooth. And now I lost it. I felt bad. He was confused, sniffing around, racing back and forth along the fence.
It wasn’t on the other side of the fence, but it was hard to tell; leaves, hostas, lots of room to hide. Then I spied it up in the tree, and I congratulate myself for that: it is not easy to find a stick in the branches of a tree. It tends to blend in, as you might expect. Got out a rake and knocked it down, and all was well.
He had a nervous day, since there were workmen in the house. The first came very early. He was an electrician, come to work on the new fireplace. He did what he could but the installers didn’t show up, so he left. (The installers had never called me to tell me they were coming.) Eventually the installers came, removed the old dead fireplace, and got to work on the gas hookup. Of course, there were problems, but wouldn’t you know it, they were solved.
How’s the new fireplace? You ask. Damned if I know. They have to get the gas line inspected by the city. When will that happen? We don’t know; we have a call in. I got a call later from the installer, who said that the inspector had been on vacation so he had a lot of backed-up requests. Oh. I know how that goes. I get busy with things, forget to pay my taxes, but they always understand. Anyway, he’ll be here next week, after which they will finish the installation.
Why . . . why not make an appointment with the inspector in advance, for the day you install the fireplace?
Well, we don’t do that.
Oh! Okay, got it.
I’m going to unwind from PayPal, because - well, you know. This will not affect any ongoing subscriptions for many months, but Jeebus Crow, this terms-of-service nonsense is ridiculous. I have my ideas about how it happened, though.
They’re not sitting around thinking “how do we shut down the voices of everyone who stands in our way?”
I don’t think they’re not that self-aware.
It’s more like “we are the smart and correct people whose beliefs are good and true and settled, and there are no good-faith rebuttals. Disagreement can only come from a bad place. No reasonable or good person can defend hate.”
Hmm. Hate.
Okay, well, I think you may have gleaned over the years that I hate fatuous anti-human abstract architecture that destroys the historical fabric of settled, established communities.
Does that count? Why not? It’s hate. It’s grounded in a series of defensible aesthetic opinions, but it could be defined in the end as hate.
No, of course not, that’s not what we’re talking about!
Okay, well, I hate Putin. Does that count?
No, that’s good hate, and good hate isn’t hate hate. Besides, if we banned good hate we’d have to ban all sorts of people with strong opinions about things that don’t matter.
Why not? If hate is the defining term, do they not understand how this could be applied in the broadest possible fashion? I you fail to apply it in the broadest possible fashion, then you might seem, oh, what’s the word, selective?
Before the flap and the walkback, the terms also included a prohibition on misinformation, another smashingly precise term. Would this cover . . election deniers? Those guys are a threat to Our Democracy. And also maybe . . . COVID misinformation spreaders? Those guys are a threat to our public health. And maybe also Gender Affirmation deniers, because they are abetting suicide and transphobia?
No company would want to be associated with any of those people. Of course a socially responsible company would take a stand, even if it had nothing to do with its business. Not weighing in on everything is a sign you're part of the problem. Subway Sandwiches must make everyone sign a form that testifies they're not using the food for a brunch where people blame climate change on solar activity and marine-generated methane instead of human activity. Otherwise Subway is complicit in mass death.
Subway might say "but we're going to accept Paypal, doesn't that show we care?" Hah! It's not even a start.
It’s 1930.
Apparently the region just abounded with Grotons, so you had to narrow it down.
There’s no break in the line to indicate which story is attached to the hed. None are.
Horrible story. You wonder why Mr. Cormier did the ID, and why the men were under police guard. Perhaps because they were sauced, and would be arrested upon recovery.
Nowadays the story would be much longer, with interviews and memorials.
This is a fairly detailed account, as if the writer was there. “Harassed by a sunken berm.”
They always gave the addresses, as if this was an important part of the public's right to know.
Elsewhere in internal combustion engine news, Calvin almost had his head taken off . . .
And Pierce Miller expired from automotive causes.
"Pierce Miller" sounds like a 1910s brand of car.
Be still my beeting heart
Remember, this is the front page.
Car-assisted calf comparison!
Curtains for Legs?
Nope. Wikipedia:
A bootlegger and close associate of gambler Arnold Rothstein, Diamond survived a number of attempts on his life between 1916 and 1931, causing him to be known as the "clay pigeon of the underworld". In 1930, Diamond's nemesis Dutch Schultz remarked to his own gang, "Ain't there nobody that can shoot this guy so he don't bounce back?”
He’d get plugged again in April 1931, and recovered. And then:
On December 18, 1931, Diamond's enemies finally caught up with him. Diamond had been staying in a rooming house in Albany, New York, while on trial in Troy, New York, on kidnapping charges. On December 17, Diamond was acquitted. That night, Diamond and his family and friends were at a restaurant. At 1 a.m., Diamond went to visit his mistress, Marion "Kiki" Roberts. At 4:30 a.m., Diamond went back to the rooming house and passed out on his bed. Two gunmen entered his room around an hour later. One man held Diamond down while the other shot him three times in the back of the head.
Because he would’ve survived two. Speculation says “Democratic Party Chairman Dan O'Connell, who ran the local political machine, ordered Diamond's execution, which was carried out by the Albany Police.”
Good times.
Oh, I never thought copper hardening was a lost art.
But somehow it made the leap to the screen. Louise Brooks, of all people is in it. Career trajectory not optimal at the time. She’d declare bankruptcy the next year.
There’s something else about these opening credits.
Do you see what they're not telling the public?
That'll do! Enjoy your midweek moments. 1955 smoke ads await.
