Finally took the king-hell fall. There’s always one big tumble in the winter. Last year - year before? They blend, they seep, they weave together - I was rounding the corner by the back steps and introduced my hip to the ice with remarkable speed. Nothing broken, so get up, shake it off, apply some Icy-Hot. It’s the salve that confuses your nervous system so it doesn’t concentrate on pain! It’s like slapping the mailman while he’s still coming up the steps.

This one was fantastic, though. I was going down the steps with the leash in one hand, and a bag of garbage in the other. I heard dogs barking; Birch pulled. I tried to make it down the steps with a bit more alacrity, since the direction of this particular incident seemed obvious to all. The dogs came across the street and up to the steps, and Birch lunged. As I went down I thought: I might hit my head on that last step.

I did not. The arm holding the leash had been yanked in an unnatural way, but I still had the leash. I was still holding on to the garbage bag. My AirPods were still in, and that’s one heck of a commercial, right there. They say they’re going to bring them out in black, and that’s a good idea. Every time I go for a walk I think I’m going to fall, and the AirPod will go in a snowbank, and I’ll never find it.

Well, scratch that worry off the list!

I could hear someone across the street saying something, so I got out my phone and hit mute.

YOU CAN DO THAT WITH YOUR AIRPODS, DUDE someone is shouting. I know. I wanted to make a show of turning off my phone, so he knew my previous unresponsiveness was due to my temporary impersonation of Mr. Assover T. Kettel.

Turns out it was the neighbor across the street; he was shoveling out a spot for the garbage cans, and had left his gate open. The dogs were still running around.

“You okay?” he said.

“Fine.” I grunted. I rarely see the fellow, and while I can’t blame him for my fall, or the months spent listening to the construction project, a month of which seemed to involve pounding huge steel beams into the wall along the hill to brace it up, after which came another 7 or 8 or 9 months of whining buzz saws and vehicles that beeped when they backed up, I didn’t feel like saying “never better! Enjoy your night.”

It was, in a way, neighbor karma. I have a service that shovels the walk, because there’s a lot of it. It’s a corner lot, and when I say corner lot I mean a lot of corner. Next year I am getting a snowblower because I am tired of waiting for them to show up, and they often come in the middle of the night and Birch barks his head off. Last night they came at 11:45.

This isn’t bad. But they brought the big snowblowers. And they brought a snowblower up the steps and did the backyard path, which I’m sure just delighted the heck out of my neighbors. I went out and had a conversation with the fellow operating the machine, and had more sympathy for Basil Fawlty than I have ever had in my life.

Now I’m sure they hate me. I don’t blame them; it’s a bitch of a site. I sent a note to the company, asking nicely if we could, going forward, in the future, not run loud snowblowers at 11:45, and yes I know I’ve already requested that they not show up before 5:30 AM, so I’m that guy with lots of niggling complaints, can’t satisfy this one.

Anyway, neighbor-wise, it all evens out.

No Detritus; didn’t save any. No construction. No Natalie in Brazil because hey guess what she hasn’t answered texts since Tue about the Thank Yous and College and Housing and all that. Thrilled to death, I am. Next week.

You’ll be here next week, right? So will I! Unless I fall again.

Not sure how this fits into a policeman's day. Maybe Lance is stepping out on Lori.

It says something about the assumptions of the cultural literacy of a comic-page reader, doesn't it? Solution is here.




We return tothe 2019 review of the music at the Blue Note Cafe.


The opening, which combined the characters with the sponsors - and did it as poorly as possible, I think.






Ace Camerman who takes no pictures. How will Tony set the scene this time, painting his word pictures?


Almost the end of Mahler's 6th.


A rather grim end for a light-hearted show.

It was never mentioned again.




2019 returns to the bins, and the records dumped back into the world when someone dies and the kids give the contents of Mom and Dad's entertainment system to the Goodwill.



"Come Fly With Me" wasn't one of them.

That was Frank's.






This was the dominant vitamin for decades.

That, and Geritol.



That'll do - see you Monday!



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