Yes. Yes, it snowed. No, the snowblower did not work. Wouldn't turn over. I had drained it before putting it away; I used fresh fuel; I made a small sacrificed to Skaoi, a ritual that involves scooping up some winter berries then flinging them over your left shoulder. It would not start. I know the best way to clean out the carb is to pour fuel all over it and set it alight - I've seen it done! - but I don't think I should.
Took an hour to clean it all away. A particular long nerve or muscle in my back and leg will be letting me know for the rest of the day - you know, the Skaoitic nerve - what it thinks about my efforts.
There's something unsettling about scraping the sidewalk and seeing the grass and thinking it was just yesterday it was green, and I was striding this very path with the mower. And now the world is completely different. Except for all the parts that are exactly the same, I suppose.
An odd tableau in the office lobby:
Remember this image. It'll be pertinent in exactly five days.
We're in the Christmas home stretch, so surely you're in the mood for some newspaper ads from 1957 that give you a sense of the times in the way no movie or TV show possibly could? Great!
If you're curious, yes, it still exists - with the exact same footprint.
Our first ad. What's the first thing you think of? Is it a feeling, a sound, a combination of the two?
Yes, it's the static-electricity crackle of that thin synthetic blanket.
Every woman thrills to dollar baubles:
If you want to spend more than a dollar, consult the Santa whose beard contains a black sack into which the horrors of infinity can be glimpsed, an ancient slumbering thing that shall wake and end the world
I mean, that's a decent enough rate, but they're probably counting on you to take more than ten days.
"Two doors from the Richfield Theatre." That place was . . . something else.
Modern and ugly, and cheap. I guarantee that 74% of all the tables sold had a cigarette burn within the first three months.
"Revival of Continental Elegance."
The Hub was, and is a first-ring suburb shopping center. I have never known it to fun-packed. It's close but I never go there.
About that toaster: $8 in 1957 would be $90 today, adjusting for inflation. You can get one on Amazon for $15.
We were having dinner with Michael Palin. I arranged to sit next to him at the head of the table, although I had originally intended not to do so, but the way everyone was sorting themselves out, it seemed natural. I was dismayed to find only two halves of a small circular sausage left among the appetizers, as I had brought dozens. Palin he chucked me under the chin and said “look, James, all fish” as he pointed to the bowl the hostess had handed him; I said it was a tribute to his country. You know, the empire, which spanned the seas, and, uh, the Thames, which is full of water, which fish like. No one seemed to know if this was intended seriously or as an attempt at humor, and it was swiftly ignored.
Wikipedia: "The Tymes are an American soulvocal group who enjoyed equal success in the United Kingdom and in their homeland. They are one of the few acts to have one and only one chart-topper in both the US and UK with different songs."
Two of the original members are still performing as the Tymes. The whole group last performed live in 2003. Not bad.
Now we're done. Thanks for your visits this week! Substack up before 11 AM, for paid customers. Consider chipping in, won't you? It'll be going to five-times-a-week next year with no price increase. A gift subscription would be a great idea, too.
