This will sound crazy, but hear me out: what if gardening is, like, a metaphor for existence? No stay with me. We plant stuff, and some of it dies, but some of it lives, and some of that stuff flowers for a brief period, and some of it comes back the next year!

I know, right? It’s such a metaphor. Right in front of us the whole time and it just occurred to me. This must be why I’m getting the Meaningful Pulitzer. Today while napping I dreamed that I was in the office, listening to a copy editor explain all the Pulitzer winners fro 2021. They hadn’t been announced yet, and he seemed to know the inside story. I said wait, hold on, you’re making it sound like I won one.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” I said.

“Is it a real Pulitizer?”

“It’s the meaningful Pulitzer,” he replied. As in, the non-flashy one that’s more respected among those who know. Then I saw the statue, and it was an Emmy. I was severely disappointed. I woke and was even more disappointed, because I hadn’t won a Pulitzer.

On the other hand, I would be having stuffed peppers for supper, so the day was still in the plus side.

The whole weekend was on the plus side. I suppose every day is on the plus side, if you view the ground as zero. (If so, then all ground is ground zero.) The stuffed peppers were filled with ground beef, which is a different sort of ground. “Ground Beef” is probably what they’ll call hamburgers made from worms some day. It’s basically hot dish served in a pepper bowl, and reminds you that you don’t have enough hot dish in your life. Mom would make it every other week, maybe every three weeks. Bland as a 1954 Newspaper Editorial about Arbor Day. But still a great sight to see on your plate.

For some reason it was always accompanied by the dreaded Peaches in a Cup, which had a mealy texture and a cloying sweetness. Fine if you’re in Deadwood in 1887, but it gave me the gags.

Anyway. Accomplishments this weekend: repaired an outdoor bench that had gone wobbly. (Not in the Thatcher Admonition sense.) Watered the lawn, when permitted; we’re on even-odd watering, but that means I could do it two days in a row. HOW CAN THAT POSSIBLY BE? It’s like one of those riddles where the uncle is also the son.

Watering rules are plain to see
Even for you, and odd for me
Yet comes the day, the temps still hotter
You cannot, but I can water.

I cleaned out my office, too. This was not based on any desire to neaten or straighten, but because I put my wallet through the wash. Good thing I’ve only a few items in it. Some of the paper items I removed to dry, then couldn’t find them. Oh, minor things - medical insurance card, Apple gift card, and my Walkin’ Dog Loyalty Card, which is one punch away from a free hot dog. Couldn’t find them anywhere, until I did. In the meantime I performed Swedish-Death-Clean level, which meant pulling shelves away from the wall to see if they’d fallen behind. They had not, but there were many needles from pine boughs Friend Wife put in the window, and also a poster I’ve carried around from place to place for the last 40 years.


At the time I knew nothing. I would know nothing now, if not for Wikipedia:

Frank Veloz (1902–1981) and Yolanda Casazza (1911–1995) were a self-taught American ballroom dance team, husband and wife, who became stars in the 1930s and 1940s. They were among the highest paid dance acts during this period.

I recently saw a movie in which they appeared, and had no idea they were in it. I'd even forgotten the name. The poster has been in closets or storage since I bought it. Until today I knew nothing about them.

And now you know too! Do with that what you will. Speaking about filling your head with little bits of trivial info you may never use, like the color combos of 1947, but somehow feel a bit better about knowing:


All assistance is appreciated, and I will endeavor to thank you all through emails. Note: there is a set sum for site expenses. Beyond that, I let the money sit in PayPal for buying things for the site, like fonts, scannable material, and software subscriptions.

Whatever you decide, the site will always be free. And worth every sou!

Arno's back:

This might be the first one that has an actual misdirection.



It’s the return of Ol’ Gill Head!

That’s what we used to say when we would use these slangy terms of endearment for the old movie monsters. Perhaps some people still do. I suspect they’re my age. It was insider slang that let you knew you were among the Faithful, I suppose.

I always thought he was a cool monster, and recall the original playing on afternoon weekend TV, or perhaps Saturday night Monster features. He had style, and an wary intelligence that set him apart from other Monsters.

He also had a leitmotif:


Probably cribbed from elsewhere. Something tells me I’ve heard that elsewhere. Perhaps this was the first incidence.


But I doubt it.

We begin by meeting our principles, who are looking to capture the monster. This is the third in the series, so it’s not bothered by the obligation to repeat the first, and can try a new direction if it pleases. Off into the swamps - with high-tech equipment to find him!

Providing spice and intrigue and tension:

HOT MAMA WHAT LIKES T’ SHOOT UP THE OCEAN!And she swims so artistically:

Eventually they capture him, and for reasons too tiresome or needless to recount, he can live in our world, and indeed makes a rather interesting hospital guest. You might see him driving around Florida with his pants hiked up to his sternum.

He’s like Ben Grimm, in a way. Powerful, ugly, tragic. But also, I'll bet he stinks.

He can’t go back to the water, because Science. Deprived of his liquid milleu, there’s naught to do but stand around outside in his pen, and look at the Tension-Producing Female with confusion and strange emotions:

Nice dissolve.

Anyway, he tires of this, breaks out, breaks bones, goes for the dame - in short, he walks among us. He escapes to the sea he can no longer inhabit.

It’s a rather touching moment, in a way. The impassivity of the Creature conveys no small amount of emotion.

The reviews praise it. I think they’re reading more into it than they might. If you're 14 and it comes on Saturday night after midnight, it's the best thing ever. (See Artistic Scuba Gal, above.)


That will suffice! Now, as ever, the Matchbooks. So much, every day! Such generousity! he said, noting the Support button down to the lower right.