It’s been cool. It’s been nice. A little dip in late July does not foretell the coming of autumn; it’s just a respite. Hot heavy humid August, the Gibraltar of months, is still ahead. I say that every year and every year I know that the month melts away with alarming speed. The other day sitting in the Giant Swede’s backyard I heard the first cicada, and I had to intone my annual line: you always hear the first. You never hear the last.

Except last year, I did. I kept a record. I wanted to know when I heard the last cicada at Jasperwood. When I heard the droning whine I entered it in the Notes app, date and time. I deleted it during the Troubles as a sign of a dead era. You know, the nice life.

I can’t hear them from up here on the seventh floor.

Not much to report: ordinary day. Can't find anything wrong with it. Didn't do as much as I had intended; somehow, that happens. Or rather doesn't. My earlier stated objective was fufilled: I got grape jelly. Or, as Wandy would put it, Gwape Jewwy. Wandy, or Randy, was a shambolic savant who frequented the Valli, notable for his dishabille style, loud speech - he would demand GWAPE JEWWY of the staff when served his toast. Notable lack of social graces. Nowadays you would say he was on the spectrum; back then we just had him pegged as peculiar. He wasn't simple. He hung around with Dime-a-Time, the mysterious academic, rail thin, bald, grey beard, bad leg, curt to all the staff,notable for his dime tip and goat-strength BO. Now and then they both would join a small guy who had a big head, greasy unkempt hair with silver strands, and an Alfred E. Newman grin. He was also something of a math dweeb. They would sit in a booth for hours and do math. Wand apparently distinguished himself later by interrupting a speech at Northrup Auditorium given by Angela Davis, and asking her to explain Communist atrocities. Or so the story went.

Anyway, I am now completely over gwape jewwy, even before I've put it on an English Muffin, but once you get that craving you know it'll be back, and you plan ahead.

Hold on, hold on, I'd totally forgotten. About ten years ago, at the same grocery store where I bought the grape jelly today, I saw Wandy. He hadn't changed. Ageless. I said I used to see him at the Valli, and he remembered. He was still . . . unsocial. I asked him what he was up to, and he said "I am at Cub shopping," or something like that. I wanted to tell him that I put him in a novel but some things are best not said. I know I'd be uneasy if anyone said that to me.

Now for Cape Fear and Ukranian drone videos to cap off the day. I can't believe they're hitting St. Petersburg. If there's a mobilization, set your VCRs to record a special performance of Swan Lake sometime in mid-December.

Then again, what do I know.

You might have thought that yesterday's absence of Woolworth Hiatal Outtakes meant I was done. Two days, and that was it. You'd be wrong! How does it feel to be so wrong so often?

It's 1957. I've had to enlarge these - the original source material is small.

Folded kid stuff. The round sign, I believe, says Buster Brown.

The Book Department. Kid stuff out front. Bottom shelf, fourth from the left, that has to be this one.

I'm wondering about that one on the back shelf. Not the wall shelf. If there's that much display space, it must have been popular. It looks familiar. For some reason I think those are dogs.

Gemini says "The book you are looking for is The Golden Book of Animals, illustrated by Tibor Gergely and written by Anne Terry White, which was published in 1957. The blurry shapes you see on the cover are actually two lion cubs rather than dogs."

When pressed again, Gemini said the book was published in 1958. Sigh.

When the query was just the title of the book, it said: "The original cover art for this vintage, oversized Giant Golden Book features a vivid, full-bleed color photograph of a majestic male lion staring forward, captured by the famous animal photographer W. Suschitzky." Asked again, it said it was a two-figure blister pack of some toys based on Todd McFarlane characters.

Useless. I swear those are dogs. And it looks like Jumbo, or Jimbo.

More toys in '57!

Get the lamp everyone else is getting, and personalize the vase portion as you like.

You'll note the absence of the "mid-century modern" stuff with sleek lines. It's almost as if people mostly prefered the traditional look.

Mostly, they did, I think.

The answers to the question: the commercial was voiced by Bob and Ray, of course, and Bob’s son was Chris Elliot, a comedian who was also in a few movies in small roles. One of them was a brief appearance in Michael Mann’s Manhunter, the first Lecter movie. As for the nearest train station, that would be Grand Central. Bob and Ray’s production company was called Graybar, after the massive office building where it was located. It’s always been one of my favorites. Not for its flash or size, but just its bulk and restrained design.

I never liked Chris Elliot, but I never disliked him. He was just one of those things you had to sit through, and it was never unpleasant to do so.

Bob & Ray I love. I have listened to every extant recording of Bob and Ray. I am currently listening to the supposed “complete” collection found on archive.org, which isn’t. The Bob and Ray archivse are a bag of hurt, as the man says, with scattershot naming regimens and selective collections. I have hours of their early local days, which are fascinating for their loose and playful tone and pacing. They were the perfect pair: Bob’s deadpan nasality, Ray’s booming smoothness, like the aural incarnation of Laurel and Hardy. It’s been a long time since I listened, and when I began I was reminded that I once perfected Ray’s mumble-mouth delivery, as well as his abusive pirate captain voice. I am here to tell you have I regained my ability to perform both.

There is no call to perform either.

So much of their work parodies things long forgotten. For example, Aunt Penny’s Sunlight Kitchen, with all its prattle about digestible chicken fat - it’s Aunt Jenny, she of Spry fame, who’s been a part of this site for decades.There are more surviving examples of Aunt Penny parody than the real thing.

One Fella’s Family is a parody of . . .

One Man's Family is an American radio soap opera, heard for almost three decades, from 1932 to 1959. Created by Carlton E. Morse, it was the longest-running uninterrupted dramatic serial in the history of American radio.

After 3,256 episodes, the radio series ceased production on April 24, 1959.

Absolutely completely utterly forgotten. More people remember the parody.

This is one of my favorite Bob and Ray skits, because you sense that they’ve summed up the banality of the thing in a way that doesn’t seem cruel, because it’s such an exaggeration.

Just Plain Bill (1931-1955) told the story of Bill Davidson (Arthur Hughes), a barber in the town of Hartville, and his daughter Nancy (Ruth Russell). Bill often became involved in helping his friends and neighbors when he wasn't cutting hair. Davidson was seldom directly affected by the problems in which he became involved, but he wanted to help people — especially Nancy — when they faced difficulties.

You get the suspicion that the show spent a week winding up a concluded plot line before the next one got going.

Question: who drew that picture?

Okay, a hint. What's the difference between a Mad cartoonist and a dead jstrawberry-preserves maker?

Some of you know. We're a dying breed, but if we keep this knowledge alive, you know what future generations will be?

That's right. Mighty so.