Squat! You get squat! Good day sir!
Well, no, there’s some things, but I yanked a bunch of stuff because I cared about it on Monday and care much less now. I haven’t changed my mind, and the underlying issues are still relevant, but we’ve all moved on.
Why, Covfefe was old this morning. Last night I was working on this and that and paid no attention to Twitter. Called it up before I went to bed and found that Covfefe was not only a new word, but had been fully and utterly memefied while I was away, so I was experiencing the second incarnation of the Covfefe kerfluffle. It was, at the time, something wonderful - this explosion of creativity using the language of the internet, with all its assumptions and codes and shortcuts. But it was dead by the time I got to the office - and a non-issue for most people, because the eruptions occurred at a time when they’d checked out, and they realized they’d missed the Covfefe situation as it blossomed and bloomed, and began to droop.
They were reduced to reading CNN stories to catch up.
By 1:30 I had unfollowed with regret someone in a Covfefe-related situation; by 2:30 I had followed the person again, after an honest apology. By 3 PM I was amused that talk radio was picking over the bones of the Kathy Griffith beheading photo, and by four o’clock I saw a tweet that pictured an actual tattoo someone got with the word Covfefe.
It’s all quite pertinent and meaningless. Everyone doing jumping jacks in a whirlwind.
What mattered, and what will last, is the work the Handyman did on the fence: he took out one of the rotten posts and poured concrete and put in a new post, one of seven that will firm up the perimeter. That post will stand through the administration of the President who’s inaugurated on 2024. The elements will lash the post, the ground will shift, the worms will writhe below the foundation, the squirrels will scamper, but that post will stand.
It replaces a post that went up in 1999. They had their Covfefe on that day, too. Every day is the First of Covfefe and Covfefe Eve.
Anyway. The post was originally about a guy who bought a ticket to a female-only showing of Wonder Woman, and while nothing I wrote was particularly unique, I did end with this.
Wonder Woman was a TV show once. Its appeal? Oh, I don't know. Figure it out.
Even the show’s star couldn’t keep a straight face.
More of Robert Pilgrim's "Believe it or Not"-type feature. Except it's all about food.
Makes sense, doesn't it?
But you have to feel for the first guy who realized wood would be better.
WTR! HT WTR! WTR! GD! PLS! HT WTR!
Named after a Sauk chief. He's bured in a local park - or so some say. Another notable local: "Keokuk was the longtime home of Orion Clemens, brother of Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain. Samuel's visits to his brother's home led him to write of the beauty of Keokuk and southeastern Iowa in Life on the Mississippi."
The population peaked at 16K in 1950; it's ten thousand souls now. As for downtown, the local paper said:
“Since July 1986, when Main Street Keokuk, Inc. began tracking numbers, the private sector has invested $21,592,898 in property acquisitions and $43,528,998 in property rehabilitation, restoration and new construction in downtown,” said MSKI Executive Director Joyce Glasscock. “A total of $65,121,896 – more than $2 million annually – has been spent by the private sector on property improvements during the last 30 years. Those dollars do not include equipment, HVAC, inventory, interior painting or routine interior maintenance.
“What those numbers tell us is that investor confidence in downtown remains strong.”
Let’s see how they’re doing.
The Pilot Grove Bank:
It’s a handsome structure, a landmark, a sign your town is sound as a dollar. No idea if it was something else and went bust, but given the age it’s possible.
The interior is interesting - the paintings on the wall have the style of the early 20th century with a modern, slightly surreal twist.
Then again, a town’s fortunes can be deduce from sights like this:
“Filing cabinets” is the only word I can make out.
Now that I think of it, you don’t often see the shingles on a Buckaroo Revival rehab coming off. They put those on for keeps.
“Sold,” so that’s good.
“What” would seem to matter less than “how much”:
The building was dull before they blinded the second floor. They probably figured it wouldn’t hurt.
I’m starting to sense a theme. Wish I didn't.
Lanham dealt in skids; Thomas handed casters.
And what are those? A skid could be something you place under something to move it, according to the dictionary. A caster is a wheeled device that lets you move something around.
Moving things from one place to another was apparently big business in Keokuk.
As was moving away.
Takes a lot of skids and casters to empty out a place.
Like an old man at a ceremony that recognizes him as the town's oldest citizen.
He's dressed in his best. It's old but neatly pressed.
“Investor confidence in downtown remains strong”
That's . . . a lot of doors.
Folks round these parts still talk about the day Godzilla passed through
Nice! The courthouse, and more.
At 7th and Blondeau Streets, the Lee County Court House and Post Office was built in 1889, an imposing and ornamental structure of brick, stone and terra cotta. Its interior was finished in white oak with cherry and walnut furnishings. The first floor was located the post office and postal departments. The second floor was the federal court room. The third floor were the chambers, private apartment for the judges, jurors' room and law library.
It seems to be guarded by two keen Iowans.
The building in the middle perplexes me. The middle story looks like it’s two stories tall. The third floor has no windows. What was it? Art Gallery? Meeting room?
I feel bad for the building on the right, which just got flayed.
QUIT SHOVIN’ C’MON STOP IT
There's more! But that's next week.
That'll do; see you around.