Today’s evasion: pictures from this century!

(Note: in case you missed the innumerable tiresome mea culpas, this is book-completion month, and that means the Bleat suffers. O how it suffers.)

Seen at the grocery store:

Dagoba, of course, was the planet where Yoda hid out like the cowardly little gangrenous elf he was. And I say “was” because Star Was happened a “long, long time ago,” so they’re all dead. Everyone in Star Wars is dead. Keep that in mind. Anyway,  I doubted that the chocolate makers took their name from the movie – for that matter, it’s likely Lucas took the name from something else. “Dagobah” is Sanskrit for “temple.” So there you go.

Incidentally, this nice little niche organic chocolate-maker has been purchased by Darth Hershey, which pleases me in an unattractive way.

Minneapolis in the winter (click for larger version.)

The light is hard and cold, but preferable to the alternative. Another clickable view of the site:

What is it? But of course: the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. We got the standard temple, as was the style of the day. It’s a 1915 product of the McKim, Mead & White firm, architects of Penn Station and other magnificent structures. (Stanny White died of lead poisoning in ’06, so putting your hands on this structure does not provide a direct link to the genius of Gilded-Age New York architecture.) It's a rather chilly and unadorned version; the absence of any sculpture in the pediment isn't unusual, but we're used to writhing allegorical bas-reliefs up there, and their absence makes it look, well, cheap.

That's a hexastylin' colonnade, in case you're curious. There's a nice little park across the street as well, but I wouldn't spend the night there.

A few blocks away, a humble facade with homemade touches. (Click-pop for larger version.)

According to today’s obits, Richard Thorne died. He gota big write-up in today’s paper, even though he’d only lived in Minnesota since 2004. He was an old-time radio guy before he got into advertising, and was the producer / director / writer for a show called “Hall of Fantasy.” Overacted low-budget hokey cheese, but fun.
You can find one here in streaming format; it’s from Feb. 2, 1953. The theme is interesting – that strange wet electronic sound-effect  plus timpani. Oddly creepy. The shouting announcer, broadcasting from a large tiled gym shower, doesn’t really set the mood well.  The HALL! OF! FANTASY! Yes, there’s nothing that puts a tingle up the spine like a hall. Because at the end of the hall there might be a linen closet of speculation.

New Peculiar Comics today - special Australian villain edition! See you tomorrow.