The Monster Storm, the last insult, the final punch, the dying blast - three-day winter storm was predicted. Planes were going to be dropping from the sky, so laden with ice they could not struggle another inch. Restaurants closed. Much toilet paper and bread and water was procured.

We survived.

Well, it's one devil of a week coming up. Everything out of joint with doubled deadlines. Six pieces due. We'll be here as usual with the usual usuals, so don't worry about that. AND I think I've fixed the comments. Oh - speaking of which, I'm very sorry about the Lance screwup. The page now goes to the proper answer.

Went to the grocery store on Saturday, in case we were hit, and noticed two things I wanted to pass along.

You have to appreciate the effort. But that's the saddest Easter Bunny meeting area I've ever seen. You can imagine some dissolute guy with a painted face and mangy fake ears sprawled on the sofa, knees level with his sternum, smoking a cigarette, then sighing, stubbing out the butt, and crooking a finger for the next kid. There were a few kids getting their faces painted, and they all looked a little apprehensive.

I paused at the discount items aisle, to see what's unpopular and discontinued. This was a surprise.

Discontinued? We hardly knew thee. Never saw this anywhere. As I said on the Twitter, I've always called this Lutheran Tabasco, so finding they've bumped up the flavor profile seemed inconsistent with its target market. If you want 57 you have made a conscious decision to move away from heat, and towards savory.

I had to buy it. The UPC was scratched out, so I had to call over an attendant. She was not happy about it. I laughed ha ha and said look what they did to 57 sauce, had to try it, here's the price, two dollars, promise I didn't write that. She swiped a card and tapped the screen. You'd think they'd leave a good thing along! Okay sorry thank you and she wandered away, utterly done with everyone on earth who needed her to swipe and tap.

At Lundsenbyerlys, which this most certainly was not, the attendant for the self-check area stands at a little podium like someone who may be needed to deliver a sermon at a moment's notice. They always say thank you when you leave. When they come over to help they are always a bit apologetic, as if the system has failed you, not because you entered PERTATERS in the text box when trying to buy some russet nodes.

Tried some with the Saturday hamburger. Since the Saturday hamburger is so good it needs no condiments whatsoever, I just daubed a dab, for research purposes.

It doesn't really work.

You're expecting a bite, and it's there, but it's like going to see an old friend, and there's someone at his house you've never met before, and the new person makes sarcastic unfunny asides about your conversation with your old friend, completely missing the context and backstory of the chat, adding nothing of value.

As for the label - yes, jalapenos are red, if they're allowed to fully ripen. So says wikipedia. "Allowed." The rest are cut down without mercy in their youth. Most are green because they get hotter as they ripen, and the market has decided that the particular heat level of a gereen jalapeno is what we we want. This is fine. You want something hotter, get something hotter. Habanero. Serrano. Ghost. Scorpion. Reaper.

I like hot food, and have been known to ingest vindaloo at levels that produce a soaked head, tears, and the occasional gasp. Not any more, though. I want it hot enough so I know I'm alive but not so hot that I wish for death.

BTW, I only buy jalapenos at Lunds, not sad CUfB with its miserable Easter Bunny setup, because the scales at Lunds can detect a single jalapeno, and the CUfB ones do not - which requires the unhappy lady to wander over, swipe, tap, and wander off. I would make an extra trip to another store than put them through that.

Our new Monday feature! The Gazettes provide a look at the commercial vernacular from 90 years ago. Sometimes they look forward, and just as often as not they reach back decades for a familiar look.

Are any of these brands still around? We'll find out.

Luke McGluke! He's thrrrrrifty. McGluke was a character created, or least drawn by, Carl Ed in the early 10s; he'd go on to create Harold Teen. (Source.) So this was an established character. The name also appears in a 1936 comic as an incompetent fireman. BUT it's a march from 1910.

As for Morris & Lewis & Sons, well . . . they'd go on to something much lovelier than Luke.

It's the last Monday of the week, so that means . . . .

Not the DC comic, or recent TV show:

Let’s see . . . where are we so far?

As one does. Hot on the trail:

It’s good we’re getting the car-over-the-cliff out of the way soon. This isn’t the cliffhanger resolution you want to pull in the seventh ep. Everyone expects it at some point.

Tracy sits down with the Secret Council of Industrials and Civic Leaders, who are worried about The Ghost. I should note that a staple of the genre is thinking that one of the members of these organizations is, in fact, the Ghost. Or a confederate. And so:

He sounds like John Fiedler run through Howard McNear.

Anyway, I was fooled before by that “maybe one of the council dudes is the bad guy thing” so I’m not going to spend much time on it. Back to the action:

OH

So the Ghost gets into the office to get the shipping manifest, and there’s lots of “invisible guy" trickery. Tracy hears that the Ghost got the stuff, so they speed off to the train junction where they hope to head the Ghost off at the pass.

I seem to remember some train stuff from another serial. Will we have a boxcar chase and train-top hats-on fistfight?

Not the biggest train you’ll see today.

Well, some hats on.

Tracy is handcuffed to the boxcar, and the henches light some dynamite. Good thing there’s a moon-buggy tank in close pursuit. Tracy is saved, the bomb is thrown away, and they get the train under control. This takes 30 seconds. The Ghost is not deterred; he vows to get the equipment - WHATEVER THE HELL IT IS - while it docks.

But! The Ghost’s henches steal some uniforms so they can intercept the boat! But! A valiant swabby phones in this news so Tracy knows what’s up! So! Tracy takes to the sky, looking for the patrol boat with the fake harbor agents! They’re headed for the docks - in a boat driven by mannikins, loaded with . . .

Well, it’s just powder. Could be for the face. But just in case, Tracy jumps from the plane to the boat to stop it from blowing up the docks. And so:

I'm sure he's fine.

Oh . . . one more thing.