Went to get a haircut. Just one? har har Well, since you’re reading this, you know I used one word - haircut - instead of two, which makes your joke rather strained. It lames your jape, man.

How are you? said the stylist, who looked quirky and offbeat and cheerful.

Cold, I said. She took out the blow drier and stuck it under the dropcloth, the apron, whatever it is, the smock, and turned it on high.


Barely. The numbness is inside. Tighten this up around my throat. Only through pain can I know I’m alive. Nick my ear if you want. Anything to shake me out of this ennui.

I can do that.

So, I have too much hair. Can you get rid of it?

I can do that too!

Good. Have you worked here long?

About five years.

Five - years? And we’ve never worked together?

You’re James and you work at the StarTribune.

Embarrrrassing, but I said: you must have looked different. And I can’t see when you’re cutting because I’m not wearing my glasses.

That’s true.

Later she checked the records and she hadn’t cut me since March, so she let me off with a warning. She also admitted she runs into customers all the time in the real world and they know her, but she doesn’t remember them, because she’s looking at the back of their heads. So if you meet your regular stylist today, and they look a bit confused, turn around and crouch down.

Yesterday was a column night but I didn’t write one. I didn’t really have to, since Friday’s the deadline. I poked and picked and started and stopped, and nothing grabbed me - almost wrote something about asking Netflix to stop releasing new TV shows every day, but decided against it. The only surviving line, I saw this morning, was this:

The series would have starred Benedict Cumberbatch as Julius Caesar, and his wife would be played by Bernadine Coumberbautch, who critics have called “The female Benedict Cumberbatch.”

I still like the line, but it’s probably better off just between us. I also realized it was stupid to write a piece about Netflix slowing down their production and acquisitions, because of all a sudden I really wanted to see a series about Julius Caesar, played by Benedict Cumberbatch.

Last week we lamented the death of Mannix; this week it was Della. Barbara Hale. She's in next week's B&W World in her first role, so we'll discuss her there.

It took me a long time to realize that she was Perry Mason's secretary, but not the receptionist. Anyone remember what the receptionist's name was? I'm not sure we ever saw her; she may have been the Carlton the Doorman of the Perry Mason show.

Oh, you're going to imdb or google it and prove me wrong, aren't you. She was seen in 17 episodes, was played by Nancy Culp, and so on.

Here's some linkchum nonsense that annoyed me as I went around the wonderful world of the web:


Junk crap site. Nothing about Larry Bird, just a list of NBA athletes who went broke.

Depressingly washing cars and eating. But eating what? That's part of the style in these stupid ads: leave out One Weird Word so you'll click.

I did, but it's a hate click. For research.

  New - new what? I don't know! Tell me! I have to click! Or perhaps that's just a phrase we should be using. "We're looking at a new."
  Sure, that's a WWII photo. Sure, these things just surfaced. They've been locked away for decades and no researcher ever saw them and now this crap site written by children has them! Yep.

Oh, let's click! We might learn something. HOLY COW CRAZY SNAPSHOTS

This isn't the only site to unsettle you with crazy:


So I find the photo elsewhere, and - get this - it's a STATUE! I'm not going to sleep tonight it's so unsettling


On another page, there's this. Any ideas?

It's exactly as it looks. The kid in the picture died, choking on food. The town is mourning.

I've no idea why they brought this to everyone's attention.


By the way, that pages has link chum, including this:


So find the photo elsewhere, and - get this - it's a STATUE! I'm not going to sleep tonight it's so unsettling


I went looking for him again, and didn't find him. I did find this revelation:

Below, another site for which you've probably seen enticements: they show people in the water with a giant snake in the background, and the headline is something like THESE PICTURES WERE TAKEN RIGHT BEFORE THE or something. Tragic shots right before someone . . . someone died! Like this:

I click on this stuff so you don't have to. SO DON'T. Please. Don't. These things make the internet stupid.


Another sizable project underway downtown; this one's on Washington Avenue in Downtown East. Or East Town as they say. Which they don't.

It is the dullest building proposed in decades - the least imaginative thing built in the city for decades.

You can just see the architect finishing the basic massing, and the deveoper running in and saying okay that's great and ripping it off the drafting broad. Take the rest of the week off!

How are things coming along at the other location?





PINNED INFO: If you're new to this feature, this isn't a bunch of old radio shows slapped up on the internet to duplicate dozens of other such sites. This is mostly about the music. But we'll learn a few things about the medium along the way.

The golden age of Gildersleeve cues was a season or two away, but by season 3 it's getting better and better.


  It's possible the plot may include cats, don't you think?

  Halloween cat-caper plot, perhaps? "Pig," btw, was Leroy's friend. A peer. But there was no comic value in that, so they introduced another kid later. We'll get to that eventually.


  Yes, times had changed. Everything had changed. And the catchphrases would change for the duration, too.


The opening question, if answered in the negative, probably has to do with personal stench.




Another find from the Goodwill. She had a few million sellers and a 12-year stretch before she took a hiatus. Her website says her last concert was 2006.


It's a venerable tune:

"You're My Everything"' is a 1931 song with music by Harry Warren and lyrics by Mort Dixon and Joe Young.[1] The song was written for the revue The Laugh Parade starring Ed Wynn which opened in New York City on 2 November 1931.

Covered by dozens, but the Wikipedia page only mentions a few - including Joni's album.

  New this year: end-of-show aphorisms. And so we end the week.

I hold in my hand . . . the last update to the Alden 1966 Catalog.



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