Another 1960s ad gently upscaled by AI. I set the sliders (originally wrote "I slide the setters") all the way to the left, to the setting that should be "Abjure Hijinx" to ensure it just enhances. As far as I can tell it hasn't changed anything. This is the picture. It looks unnatural because we're accustomed to seeing the era in lo-fi. If the picture was less sharp, and had some color defects, it would be so real you could smell the Winstons.

I just got a call from, I think, Neil, who said he was from the Church of Latter Day Saints, and would like to say a prayer for me if that was all right. I said he was certainly welcome to do so, thank you, and God bless. How did you get this number?

"From a list."

"Ah. And where did you get the list?"

"I don't know."

"All right, well, thank you and good night."

"Is there anything you would like me to pray for you about?"

I don't know, my suspicious nature? I thanked him and ended the call. Odd. Cold-calling for praying. Should've said "my guy is Pastor Kurt, and I asked if he was around at the church today when I dropped off two grocery bags of hygeine items for the charity drive, one-third of which consisted of excess Q-tips my wife bought at Costco and forgot about, all of which I'd repositioned to a storage drawer a year and two months ago when she went to Arizona for four weeks in a strange prefiguring of the life to come = are you getting this all down?"

After the church trip I drove to distant Fridley - friendly Fridley - to drop off two crutches and some foot-surgery boots. Current had asked me to make the 25-minute journey, and I was happy because it got me out of the house while the realtor photographers did their work. I had two boxes of books from Zork Storage, too - I'd meant to take them to Half-Price to sell them, but had forgotten. Well, no time like the present. As usual, they said it would be an hour, and they wanted me to be "in-store." I said I intended to nip down to Bogart's for a donut, and I'd be back in ten.

"Be back as soon as you can," said the clerk, who had the humorless officiousness of a librarian who takes up the trade so they can boss people about late fees. I wanted to say "An hour's wait, you say, but you want me to cram down a glazed as quickly as possible and hot foot it back here so I can wander around the stacks, which are comprised entirely of books other people did not want to keep." But I agreed that I would indeed conclude my donut business with the greatest possible speed.

The shop was spare, and had five donuts available for purchase. I gather that the morning hours bring the most traffic. There were three glazed; I requested one. It was fresh, sticky, and big, producing the usual donut response: immediate rapture turning to self-disgust after three bites. My hands now had the adhesive properties of painter's tape, and I looked around for napkins. None to be had. I asked the clerk if they had any, and he pointed to a sad stack of small square napkins, white, sitting on the end of the white counter, like a jungle creature that survived by its camoflauge skills.

I went back to the bookstore, fighting the impulse up to go to the counter and say "I only ate half, fearful you might call my name 55 minutes earlier than expected," but no. Wandered around and read some things. Had a phone conversation with the realtor. Waited. In the end it was an hour and a half.

An afternoon of chores, and they all had the same theme: divestiture. Except, I suppose, for the donut calories I gained.

Here's one of the ads I selected in my daily prowl through the Architectural Records. I'm on the 80s now.

It made me realize we've lost something since the 80s:

A downtown shopping mall forest & fountain. Those are mostly dead, for reasons, but they all had fountains and greenery. It was expected! Falling water, that certain ionized zing in the air, the plosh and splash.

Looking for some updates on this mall, I found a Reddit site, but:

What? There was nothing NSFW about it. When I finally got through, the comments were what you'd expect: yeah I remember that it was awesome when they had lots of stores but I went there recently and there weren't any. One also noted that the fountain had been ripped out long ago, and he'd seen the site as it was dismantled. Horrible gunk from years of neglect.

There might not have been a fountain in this biuilding, but there certainly was music. Or Muzak:

I love this building and I love Muzak. Ah to have strolled through its lobby to do some Important Banking with the swank sounds of easy listening trickling from the monophonic speakers above. The text, if you're curious:

Second tallest structure on the Minneapolis skyline is the First National Bank Building. This progressive organization selected Music by Muzak to complement its modern approach to banking. With its handsome facade of gleaming metal and glass, the 28-story First National headquarters structure provides an extraordinarily attractive addition to downtown Minneapolis. At the same time, it combines all banking services and administrative facilities in one efficiently-designed location.

Music by Muzak plays an important role in First National's operations. Scientifically arranged and recorded Muzak selections are heard on all banking floors. Never blaring or distracting, Music by Muzak is a valuable First National asset, providing a pleasant and stimulating atmosphere for both employees and customers.

Music by Muzak stands alone as the only music service tested and proven as an aid to worker productivity. Also used by First National as a versatile communications tool, the Muzak system is adaptable for paging, signaling and emergency warnings.

Like head to the shelters, perhaps. Rooskie nukes en route.

Another interesting ad from the Arch Records mag:

I didn't know shower makers hired Orion slave girls for their models. The original is here, larger, if you wish. It's obviously a parody of women's magazine fiction, something that was a much larger piece of the culture in the 60s. The women's mags had tons of fiction. Until they didn't.

There: just gave you three things that used to be common: indoor shopping-mall fountains and greenery, swank Muzak, and a plethora of middle-class women's fiction. Common no more.

What were the replacements?

Were they better?

I had shaved off half my hair for some reason. It had been a joke, and I’d forgotten all about it, then looked in the mirror and was duly appalled. Well, I could comb it over, a bit. Then I went back to some social gathering I was attending with a famous Hollywood actress. I was taking pictures of her. She was in a funk, insisting that she just wasn’t pretty, and I had to reassure her that was nonsense, when I knew it was true. She was a star for her comedic abiilities, not her looks. But I showed her a recent picture to cheer her up, and it worked, for a while.

This has the sound of a one-hit wonder. All the sounds of 1986! The synths, the drums, the effects.

Wikipedia:

Back to the World is the second solo album by Dennis DeYoung, released in 1986  on A&M Records. The album reached No. 108 on the Billboard 200 chart. "Call Me" reached No. 5 on the Adult Contemporary chart and No. 54 on the Billboard Hot 100, while "This Is the Time" peaked at No. 93.

Styx had its moment in the sun, but I'm not sure the nation as crying out for a DeYoung solo career.

That will do. Last weekend before the sale coming up. It will be brutal. Also, a blizzard. On the positive side, closer to losing my beloved home forever, so I got that going for me, as the man said.