The sun sets around 4:30 these days, it seems; descends fast with the furtive spirit of someone leaving his kid’s school play to go to the casino. It’s like living in one of those Pat Metheny combo pieces where they sent the percussionist and the inevitable Brazilian warbler out for a smoke while the rest of the band got good and stinkin’ sad.

Are you sad, Keyboard player?

Yes, because my fame will be ever yoked to yours, and your side projects get ten times the attention of mine. Are you sad, Pat?

Yes, because the memory of lost love and regret runs through my heart like an arrow e’er piercing, even though I could probably have any woman I want, what with the hair and the guitar and the fame and the money – but enough. What of you, bassist? Why are you sad?

Because I’m the bassist, dude.

Yes, sad like that.  I had a horrible moment at the microfiche machine today – and yes, I am well aware that I am stretching the boundaries of the word “horrible” by placing myself at the strenuous, life-or-death, kill-or-be-killed world of the microfiche machine – when I was rolling through 1947, looking for fresh Lance Lawsons, and came across images I remembered very well, images of cast-off mascots who would later appear in an early Institute site. How many years have I been doing this? What the devil have I accomplished since then?

Hold on, daughter’s calling me –

There. Back. Had to help her complete a spy puzzle so she can advance to the next mission. As I was saying, what have I done?

Oh, right. And some other things. I ran off a few mascots for the inevitable upscaled version of that site, as well as some other ads that will find a home in the Fiche Ads section. Since I was talking about candy bars yesterday, this stood out:

Mmmm, mm! A Denver Sandwich! Prefered by nine out of ten toothless grizzled clichés! “Ye kin gum it down good, by cracky!”

This ad made me smile:

There's no possible way the rest of the ad can live up to that, so I'll spare you.

And then there’s this, which should have been added to the Andrews site yesterday.

It’s a detail - subjected to needless artsy-flatulent futzing - from a big picture, as is this:

A reflection in the window. Hamburgers! Yes, HAMBURGERS! Must have been in the Hotel Russell or the adjacent Red Feather bar. It makes you wonder how many things survive only in reflection – a face in a store window, back to the camera, a billboard from 1927 of which no other record survives. I’ve added two pages to the Andrews hotel site, which sets a record; usually I wait a while before obsessively jamming more content on a particular subsite. You can find the larger version of the picture here.

Now, our Thursday tradition: 100 Mysteries. I've decided to stop putting the series in the Bleat, since the embedded video loads regardless of whether you want it or not, and it can be a hefty chunk sometimes. So I'll make it elective. This week's installment is here. The videos are only 2.7 MB total, but every bit counts. Also, restaurants will have to wait until tomorrow. They're done, but I want to save something in case I haven't enough other stuff.

Heaven forfend we should end up without enough other stuff.

New Lance Lawson over at - three of them, actually: AM, noonish, and 2ish. Have a fine day - and see you at Twitter.

Oh. okay.

What a wolf! Bet the other guys in the service bay gather 'round for tips after Johnny-on-the-Spot comes back from handling hungry women. Especially those love-starved gals who've travelled 150 miles in a single morning.