We were supposed to get 8 - 10 inches of snow. We did not. At the last minute the storm nudged north, but this didn’t mean we were spared. Two to four, that was the prescription. The snowblower, of course, did not start. Why would it start? So I had to shovel snow while it was snowing, or order to make the second pass easier.

At this point in the season I am resigned to a dead snowblower. I should get some fluid and pour it over the engine and set it on fire, which I think is how you revive them, or perhaps put it on a hoist during a lightning storm then winch it down and shout IT’S ALIVE. It does make me think differently of my neighbors who have a very small patch of sidewalk, but have a snowblower. I mean, I would too, I suppose, but if I can shovel this long walk - both sides, since Jasperwood is on a corner - then, well, c’mon. My neighbor snowplows part of my walk, sort of an unspoken reward for his kids using the hill to sled. Which is fine by me. No waivers need be signed. No legal agreements about responsibility need to be drawn up and notarized. If anything did happen I would be content to take it before Judge Judy.

Did you ask his permission?

No, but -

Uh uh uh, no but. You did not ask his permission, is what I want to know

Your honor it was understood -

I don’t care what you understood! You didn’t have permission!

Your honor he has seen the kids slide and never complained so I assumed -

I don’t care what you assumed! You took your kids sliding on a hill that wasn’t yours, and you got hurt! Are you going to sue Isaac Newton? (Aside, to the bailiff: “does anyone remember who that is anymore?” “I do, judge.” “Yeah, but you’re old. Not as old as me but you’re old.”) Your case is ridiculous. I am dismissing it and awarding you [dramatic goose-egg gesture] zero. I hate to think what your kids will learn from you. We’re done.

I would not have a counterclaim for pain and suffering.

The trademarks of a 100 years ago is our theme this year. Apparently it took a while to approve them, because Mr. Sexton et al had been waiting for two years for this:

Even the Quaker towns had a village idiot, I guess:

Claims use since 1911, but they're just getting around to it now. Remnants and lore, here.

 

 

No reviews. Just pictures and places and mugs.

Now that’s a combo.

Great theme by Skinner, which could be any theme of the era - which says something about the era.

Just in case you’re settling in for an hour and 20 minutes of warmth and joy:

Oh yes, we are in the land of Noir:

Hey, look who!

Always a pleasure to see Marshal Dillon, even if he's fat, pie-eyed, and larcenous.

The simplest of shots tell you we’re in capable hands: Ida Lupino is directing.

We learn in 3 minutes that the guys are crooks, a job was just pulled, Conrad took a slug, Dan’s the boss, the gal is slinky and foreign, and she’s in love with the gang’s resident doctor, and isn’t happy about it.

Three minutes.

The doctor:

As it turns out, he has a plan: Dan has a headache, so he gives him some pills - then tells them they’re poison, and he’ll die in two hours, unless he lets Doc and Girlfriend escape together, after which he’ll tell him where the antidote is. Doc and the Girlfriend vamoose.

We are 12 minutes into the movie. I mean. That’s crisp work.

A little inadvertent documentary . . .

Star Theater on the left, General American Insurance Building on the right, but not the 1949 structure. Nothing looks right in the modern view.

I'd love to drive here on a warm June night and pull over somewhere for hamburgers.

POV, unforunately, is a member of the gang in the backseat, and he pulls a gun - but James Mason kills him in a fight. FOURTEEN MINUTES IN. I’ll leave out a blow-by-blow of Dan killing one of his guys, the doc and gal getting into a car crash, buying a car and having a romantic moment at a gas station, then hiring a plane and landing in Mexico, which takes us to 22 minutes.

When they get to Mexico it slams to a halt, as we have to deal with Angry Bitter James Mason and a worldly priest and Colorful Villagers with their Folkways, and we realize the rest of the movie will be A) James Mason recovering his humanity while learning to really appreciate the Woman, and also B) Dan tracking them down and then bang-bang.

I mean, this is your sign that we’re in for something of a drought, noir-wise.

But it picks up and works in two locations and ends with a one-two-THREE punch that’s unexpected. Top-notch B. If only they made them like this these days. Perhaps they do. If they do, give me a call, from this booth right here.

If you'd like to see it, well, here it is. Free. A tidy 1:18.

That will do. I wrote the above-the-fold on Saturday. Sunday we got some bad, bad family news. The Bleat will continue this week with pre-written BTF content, at least. I'll have more to say at a later date.