Sitting outside in the gazebo, listening to thunder. Lovely thunder, as the Harold Budd song title has it. Which reminds me: tonight I was listening to Daughter’s radio show on the university station. There are five people talking, I think. Perhaps four. She has the best radio voice of the batch. The host is good but needs to sit closer to the mic and slow down 15%, but she doesn’t? Uptalk? Or frrrrrrrryyyyyy, so good for her. They talk about strange things for 15 minutes, then play music. I heard this:

And I texted her right away: Eno!

She texted back: heheh I chose that one

I had no idea.

The 1975 album from which it comes changed my musical tastes - or, rather, opened them up. I had a friend in Chicago I’d met at summer high-school speech camp in Iowa City, and while were both METAL fans, he introduced me to progressive rock in the form of Tull, and an unlistenable German group that sang in a made-up language. Also King Crimson, which I pretended to like because it was Dark and Awesome. To be honest I didn't like Tull, either.

Back then “progressive” was a wide genre, and encompassed electronic music, and I had an instant affinity with bleepy-burble sounds with a blip-tish blip-tish beat. Since King Crimson was rock-prog for the elect and elite, I followed their guitarist over to Eno's “Another Green World” album, and that was that. Nothing else sounded like this.

Anyway. You never know when you make an impression, or how, do you? To this day I wonder if all that 40s swing she heard in the car seat will ever surface in the form of an elemental reconnection. My dad played so much twang, and it never stuck. The Johnny Cash stuff, yes. But the weepy dudes in hats with a lacrymorose steel guitar, no.

Okay, Friday. What didn't make it on the site? No internet chum today, just odds and sods from the site.

Next year I have a site on Sunday comic ads. They sat at the bottom of the page, looked like comics, but were not. Our friend Mr. Coffee Nerves came from a long, rich tradition. And he had allies:

It's Mr. Stomach Upset, a physical projection of Uncle Bob's deeply supressed anguish at being unmarried and without heirs!

I don't know what the coloring was, but I can guess:

He could have been a nauseated pink, but that wouldn't work with the product.


Scenes from downtown during my merry walk in the sunshine. Seen on the street the other day:

Well, I can help: it says "water." Of course, that's not the issue here. The question mark tells us what we, the layperson, don't know. Why is this unusual, or wrong? What mistake was made? It gives off an irritated emotion, as in "WTF did they do" or "Did you not get the memo?" Someone went back to the office and wrote this up and he was not happy.

One of the side streets was "fixed" - I think they took out a lane and added some plantings.

That's a grim tableau, plantings notwithstanding. It was once much better. If we swing around the other direction, though . . .

It will look nice, but the fellow who was putting them in said they hadn't put down any weed block.

We'll see how that goes.

One last note:  Daughter said Snapchat - remember that? - sent her a note about an anniversary. Four years ago we got Birch.

Good for him and good for us.



Some context. Note the metal frame at the top; that's the mechanical enclosure, and indicates that it's almost done.

If it had more balconies, it would look residential.

A rare appearance by the actual people who built it:


Meanwhile, over at the Firehouse project:

The Thrivent Apartments project makes me think of all the terraforming and underground construction I'm doing in Planet Coaster.

I mean the underground construction I used to do. Don't spend all my time on that anymore! Ha ha! No sir. No danger of you having to sit through another series of pictures about that.



I guess Lance was permanently stationed on the yacht:


He'd like to know for future scams, I guess. Solution is here.



Seems as if I have a few more of these. We will hear the inevitable curse of the long-running radio show.



First, here's a snippet of the old theme.



  Now, the curse: the producers decide to change things up with library music.
  Lose your own unique repeating cues for something else that sounds as if it could be slapped onto any show.
  Finally, tack an entirely different theme on the end!


Major labels used to have a God division; why wouldn't they?


Wikipedia: "Tony Fontane (1925–1974) was an American recording artist in the 1940s and 1950s who gave up his career in popular music to become a gospel singer following a near-fatal car accident in 1957. Due to his high, clear tenor voice and unrelenting sense of purpose, he became one of the world's most famous gospel singers."

1975: Why suffer the indignities of slenderness?

  That will do, except for another Gallery covers update. It'll start with a few that already ran, to ease you into it.




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