Today's winnowing: the cupboard over the master bath commode. I'm of the opinion that it should have the Scott tissue and the square boxes of Kleenex as the primary occupant. My wife agrees, but over the years has added a few more things. I think she bought a multi-pack of Q-tips at Costco, and while I'm sure the price was great, we had 3,750 Qtips in there. I'm serious. I figured we can resite them without causing any panic.

I have also repositioned a great deal of soap, and dental floss. There was enough floss to braid a rope capable of hoisting the anchor for the USS Eisenhower.

Today I took more pictures in places I was not supposed to take pictures, so I can't show you this.

Or this.

The article is about the lost art of elevator doors. We had a meeting today about Google and Search Engine Optimization, which was long and complex and, I fear, irrelevant to my work. No one is going to search for Minneapolis Elevator Door Art of the pre-war era. I'm of the old dead school that thinks "build a reputation for having a wide array of interesting topics, well-written and attractively presented, and build an audience that returns again and again to be surprised, informed, and enlightened."

I know, I know, I should work for some place that stamps little marks on clay tablets and delivers them to people's houses.

I've been watching a TV series about a crusading dad who wants to bring to justice the Libyans who brought down a jet over Lockerbie, Scotland. His daughter was killed in the terrorist act. The series has begun to take the side of one of the persons convicted of the crime, since it is a sympathetic portrait of the father. It loses momentum after Gadaffi shows up and glowers impassively in that special way he had. I mention this only because I just called up an ep, and the screen says, in the usual format, S1E4.

I don't think there will be a second season, unless the fellow loses another child to an airplane accident. Perhaps it would be a sunken ship. Stricken look on his face as he cannot believe this has happened again. Cameo from Liam Neeson, who says "tell me about it."

Don't think I'll go on. Anything else I abandoned a long time ago . . . oh! Mr. Mercedes, based on a Stephen King novel. There are three seasons. Each has nine episodes. That's about five too many. The Golden Age of Streaming has completely ruined the need to boil things down.

At first they noticed, and were worried:

Then their concerns curdled to frothing fury:

A meeting was convened.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem."

(Slaps up a slide)

"They’re on to us."

(Mutterings of dismay around the room; shouts of “Fie” and “Calumny to the Hussy!”)

"Yes. The thing we feared has happened. Our opinion about this - this woman has gotten out, and everyone knows we have set our cap against her. Just to recap the situation, we’ve had our eye on this woman for a while. At first her rapid financial ascent was of minor interest; it happens, and we’re happy when it does, since it gives the lesser orders the illusion that prosperity and upward mobility is possible."

(Low chuckle around the room)

"I said, the illusion. We all know it’s not, because, well, if anyone could make a million dollars, eventually we wouldn’t be billionaires. And why is that?"

“The pie!” Shouts a man in the back. “The pie!” Cries another.

“That’s correct. In fact I think this would be a good time to remind ourselves of our devotion and commitment.” He presses a small button on the podium, and the curtains on the wall behind him part, revealing a stunning Old-Masters-style picture of a pie.

“There it is, and there it shall always be, fixed, eternal, its circumference a constant through all time.”

“HAIL THE PIE”

“So. As I said, we were watching, but not concerned. But now it appears that the situation has changed. She has gone public with her weird trick to make money. If indeed it becomes known to all, the staggering amount of wealth it produces will necessarily detract for our own possessions. The Pie is Just, but the Pie cares not for any of us. We know this. We accept this. But this does not mean we let anyone plunge in the knife and claim a slice for themselves at our expense.”

(Murmurs, shouts of “save the Pie” and “Protect the pie”)

"Her scheme is ingenious. It involves setting up review sites for various products. Here is her review of the Samsung 4F-367a 51” flatscreen."

“‘It is a great TV for watching Netflix!!! The stand is easy to attach and the remote has all the buttons you need. Great for binging your favorite shows. Heads up: needs electricity, so make sure there’s an outlet nearby.’”

“She has cleverly leveraged this expertise in the following way: if someone clicks on a link in her review, and purchases the television, she gets a percentage.”

(Cries of dismay; a man in the back shouts “this cannot be legal”)

“Our projections show that if 67% of the North American population purchased a TV with an average cost of $1,799 through links from her site, and she invested the money in a diverse portfolio that included Bitcoin, by 2057, it is possible she would have a net worth of 1.1 million dollars. And we all know what happens when you enter the millionaire class. It is but a hop, skip, and a jump to demanding a slice of . . . the Pie. Gentlemen, our projections show she could be a billionaire by 2197. If 37% of the nation takes her advice, there will be 86 new billionaires by 2103. We, of course, will be dead. But our children will be facing the cold hard reality of the Pie, and will be forced to share it with this new class. Any question? Bill there, in the back.”

“Are we sure this is actually true?”

		“Bill. Look at the ad. Do you see where it comes from? Verified Breaking. This means that this news is fresh and new, and that it has been vetted and confirmed. Yes, Jeff, what is it?”

“Why assume the pie is static in its dimensions? I’ve never gotten an answer about that.”

(Shocked intake of breath, tremulous silence)

"Jeff, I cannot believe you'd -"

“Just kidding, chief. So, are we going to have her knocked off by drone, or an exploding Cybertruck?”

It’s 1912. Could be taken as a threat, I suppose: I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a newspaper have a single byline on the masthead. And here’s proof of the paper's motto. The entire front page consists of ads, and comings-and-goings. It has happened! It is seen!       Nothing escapes the panopticon of Mr. Varner.     Page 2 is a big ad for a store, and you’re advised that it’s worth it to drive 25 miles for these bargains. WE NEED THE MONEY But where is the store? Maybe everyone knew where it was.       BREAKING: Fire did not happen           Cautionary tale from over in Sterling. You suspect this happened a lot.     That's about all I could glean. For reasons I cannot recall, I skipped ahead and snipped this tale, from 1932. It tells a tangled tale.       It just gets worse and worse for these guys.     Then I went forward three decades to see how the paper had changed. It hadn't. That'll do, my friends. We begin our long stroll through the decades today, starting with the 20s. The Substack, up around 11ish, concertains outtakes, but has a long disquisition on the Uncomfortable Pauses of Dragmet, complete with video. Sign up! Pay up! Do something! Anyway, thanks, I'll see you tomorrow.