Dinner tonight at Mr. & Mrs. Crazy Uke. Hence the image above, a colorized screen grab from a commercial in which women hallucinate the appearance of perfect cracker-and-cheese plates. Or rather hallucinate them appearing at the edge of their peripheral vision. I don't know why she's so impressed. It's rather basic.

It took a while to get to their place, since it's across town, and traffic was thick. Rush hour. All the lines on the map were red. I took "surface streets," the term that seems to imply the existence of Jetson - Doc Brown routes above for flying cars. The old familiar route I used to use between Jasperwood and StarTribune World HQ, a drive that was part of my daily life for decades until ping! it wasn't. It was a showplace of Minneapolis aggravations. Block after block of road repair, narrowed lanes. You got to crawl past George Floyd Square at 5 PM so you could take in the vibrant vibrancy of the site. There was bridge construction that narrowed the lanes to one, although there was a big wide dedicatd bus lane painted red we could've used. No! The buses must roll! Keep 'em rolling! Even if they come once every 20 minutes, we can't let cars use the lane. They'll get the wrong idea. Once the sanctity of the dedicated lane is disturbed, people will no longer respect it.

Of course I am describing a society that unraveled a while ago. People were driving on the bus lane, then trying to barge in at the front. They should be dragged from their cars and beaten with rods, pour encourager les autres.

LIGHTS UPDATE I was outside with Birch, because of course I was, I do that ten times a day, when I saw a party from the front office walking towards the machinery I'll call "The noisy boxes that roar sometimes and other times are silent." You HVAC and facilities-management guys will know what I mean. The gal from the front office saw me and said "There's the guy who told us about it," and then, to me, "And here's the guy who fixed it." She introduced me to the electrician who had brought the lights back on. We shook hands like men who worked on a crucial operation during the war - one of us in the field, the other back behind lines working on plans and logistics. He explained that something indeed burned out when the power came back and surged.

I wanted to ask him about 1988 telecommunications infrastructure, but I forgot. Here's why. As noted yesterday, I'm watching a good solid docudrama about Lockerbie. Here's a scene that made me sit up and point at the screen:

 

I know. I know, right? Do they think we're STUPID?

 

 

tHiS shOw iS seT iN 1988!

Sure, dude. Sure. Well let me give your location scout the cold sweats, and make him replay the moment when he said "oh no one will notice, who's going to care."

WELL LOOK AT THIS, RIGHT AT THE FRED

 

 

I will be crushed if someone says "actually no, Channell tower-style enclosures looked like that in 1988 as well - you'll notice that the one you have has the bottom rectangle on the second-from-last line, whereas anyone familiar with these knows the rectangle was on the bottom in 1988."

It's possible. We're probably looking at a Channell SPH1420 here, or its predecessor. I just think it's amusing that both have the aspect of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

My instant recognition of the Signature Pedestal Housing, or SPH, is a testament to the amount of time I spend walking around here, and to the fact that it was, for a week, Birch's favorite thing to pee upon.

Speaking of whom:

 

 

He had a good day. Aside from being alone for a while, of course. We had a long walk when I got home and I let him go anywhere. Then I went back upstairs to the balcony and had a cup of coffee and looked at the sunset and listened to some music from the Before Times. Daughter rang, and we talked for an hour.

Better day, for which I'm grateful. To Daughter, to friends who had me over, to Birch for his company, to the guy I dragged out of the car and thrashed with a rod, because he said "I absolutely deserved that." Nice guy, really. We might have coffee next week.

 

 

 

 

It’s 1892.

A rare 19th century Sunday paper!

 

 

  Blaine button, you say.
     
  Heeeeere's Blaine.

 

Who he was:

James Gillespie Blaine (January 31, 1830 – January 27, 1893) was an American statesman and Republican politician who represented Maine in the United States House of Representatives from 1863 to 1876, serving as speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives from 1869 to 1875, and then in the United States Senate from 1876 to 1881. Blaine twice served as Secretary of State, first in 1881 under President James A. Garfield and Chester A. Arthur, and then from 1889 to 1892 under President Benjamin Harrison. He is one of only two U.S. Secretaries of State to hold the position under three separate presidents, the other being Daniel Webster.

Blaine unsuccessfully sought the Republican nomination for President in 1876 and 1880 before being nominated in 1884. In the 1884 general election, he was narrowly defeated by Democratic nominee Grover Cleveland. Blaine was one of the late 19th century's leading Republicans and a champion of the party's moderate reformist faction, later known as the "Half-Breeds".

 

It takes a lot of force for it to be unrecognizable.

It’s hard work and it’s dangerous work. A loose sleeve, an augur: you’ve one less arm.

 

 

This one takes an unexpected turn.

I wonder if she went home, and what happened.

 

 

In most cases we avoid the snake oil and patent medicine ads, but this one really does attain new heights.

 

 

    
 

You really didn't need to hyphenate that word, you know

Surprise! It works!

 

Everyone benefited from it!

 

 

Peculiar:

Hood’s Sarsaparilla was marketed to purify the blood and cure various disorders, including heart disease, rheumatism, and edema. The product was inspired in part by the success of Ayers’ Sarsaparilla. Hood’s Sarsaparilla contained sarsaparilla root, dandelion, juniper berries, and 18% alcohol among other ingredients. The C.I. Hood and Company was an industry leader in pharmaceutical advertising during the 19th century, producing a variety of visually striking and unique trade cards such as the one shown as well as posters, calendars, and even cookbooks. At the time, Hood’s Sarsaparilla laboratory was touted as one of the largest of such facilities in the world.

You couldn't buy it today due the illegality of safrole-free sassafras in sarsaparilla.

 

Well, now that the storm’s passed, I’d best head out and clean up, and AHHHHHHHHHH

 

 

Corydon was a ways away from Longansport - it's a four-hour drive by car now.
 

 

Finally, the appeal of these columns made plain. YOUR NAME IN PRINT. What a novelty!

 


I’m including another ad to highlight something we saw in the Hoods color ad.

 

 

I think the word underwent a change in meaning. It was used with such certainty, and used over and over. I wonder if the Bull Durham boys took it from Hood, or vice versa.

That will do for this edition of mad red meat tossed to my ravening base of reaving Zionist incel lunatics! See you around.