We have a rule in the house: if you break a glass, you have to clean it up, of course - AND the person who cleans it up has to walk around barefoot the rest of the day, and part of tomorrow.

It’s a very new rule, passed tonight without objection. My idea, actually. I broke the glass, I cleaned up, and I did the best job possible without having access to the sort of cleaning power you get when you open an airlock in space.

Yes, yes, a pressurized airlock, I would think that would go without saying. Did I have to add that? Was anyone thinking “does he believe that if there’s equal atmospheric pressure on both sides of a door, and he opens the door, somehow all the dirt in the house rushes out? Have I been reading all these years and not realized he doesn’t know how space works?”

Look, I know. I saw 2001. I saw Alien. Let someone lay a hand on your shoulder and say in Spock tones “He knows, Doctor. He knows.”

But is that the actual quote? I think so. I don’t think Spock would call him by his first name. That would be weird. Imagine Dr. McCoy walking into Spock’s room, and Spock says “Hello, Leonard.” It would be like a sitcom. It would be as silly as Scotty calling Spock by his last name.

Anyway, as I tweeted, when you sweep up a broken glass, it seems as if you collect 150% of the volume of the original vessel. To which someone might say “you mean mass, and Spock didn’t have a last name,” and I’d agree with part of that, and note that “volume” might make some think of the fluid capacity of the glass. And Spock’s last name is “Spock,” which is why calling Dr. McCoy “McCoy” is reasonable. Never called Jim just “Kirk,” though.

As for Scotty, he was the only one with a nickname based on his last name, and for this we are grateful; the bridge would have been a different place with Kirky and Spocky, to say nothing of Ensign Randy. Which she really wasn’t, even thought she was supposed to be a sorta flirty sexy character, despite her professional chasteness?

What I mean to say is that I am, so far, unpierced by any glass. I think I got it all. Of course two pieces fell into shoes by the back door, which is a given; if you break a glass in the garage a shard or two will appear in a pair of dress shoes upstairs, waiting for a wedding or a funeral.

 

There's a new sculpture downtown by one of my favorite new buildings.

It's okay.

The Firehouse complex - which is huge - is still in the dusty pit stage:

And our semi-regular Weekly Sweep of the Stadium Apartments on a lovely summer day.

 

 

 

If Lance knew because . . . well, you know, then why did he pull the other guy in?

I'd like to think that working over someone with the phone books is known in the underword as turning Slim Loose. Yeah, he had me under the brights for an hour, then he turns slim look on me. Solution is here.

 

 

I like Fred Allen, but I like him more than his show. He had some standard bits that were boffo then, probably, but now you wonder whether the writers labored hard to come up with this week's line to go into the expected slot.

In this iteration of the show, the chorus sings Mister Allllllen in wonderful 40s style, after which is is required to say who he isn't.

   
 
   
And again, it reminded me of this.  
   

We've been through this before.

This year we're counting down the top hits . . . of 1922. Why not?

Isham Jones: The World is Waiting for the Sunrise.

   
 
   

Remember: this one was more popular than all the songs you've heard so far.

 

Back when the Usenet was useful, and people contributed to it, I snagged a batch of 1960s local ads. Check this out. Mid 60s, I think.

   
 
   

 

 

   

 
   

That will do. Was it really the last true week of Summer? Nah, I take it all back. See you Monday.

Oh: today's Misc update is the end of something started a long, long time ago. Enjoy!

 

 

 
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