The oven installers were slated for this afternoon. They arrived at 7:40 AM. When I went down to assist I was informed of two things:

They could not install the range hood, because carpentry was required. This is the first I have heard of the matter, and there have been three installation attempts, each thwarted by electrical issues.

They did not have the oven. They were only there for the range hood. They knew nothing of the oven.

Now then.

The last installation, scheduled for 8, had not happened because they arrived at 7:45, and we didn’t hear the bell. They did not text. They left after 15 minutes, thinking perhaps we were dead. I called the company to reschedule and remind them that we needed Michael as the installer, because he knew what to do. I was informed he had just left the company. Sigh. Okay. Well, I’m in England, so here’s my wife’s number. Coordinate with her.

The installation dispatcher said she would, and confirmed today with my wife. This was Amanda, by the way. Well. After today’s episode, I got a call from someone else who said she was the dispatcher, and Amanda had nothing to do with it, she just passed it off to her. She said she could not deliver the oven because they didn’t have it; they had to be contacted by Best Buy to set it up. Okay . . . then why did Amanda set it up with my wife?

Amanda’s not in charge, and we don’t have it.

I understand but Amanda set it up.

We don’t have it.

Right, but what did Amanda set up?

The range hood.

Obviously, but I was calling about rescheduling the oven.

We don’t have the oven. You have to call Best Buy.

Then why did Amanda - oh, never mind.

I’ve never been this brusque with someone in customer relations before. Not rude, but short. After three months, I’ve finally lost patience.

I don’t think that’s particularly unreasonable.

THIS IS NOT A REVIEW.

In lieu of anything else today, I present another Perry Mason. This one is exceptionally good, but that’s not our point here. It’s the faces. I suppose I could save this for a Black and White World, but that seems like cheating, somehow.

What would you guess this fellow’s profession might be?

It’s a certain type. You know he’s in the arts, somehow. In this case, he’s a songwriter who stole a song from . . . a college professor. Okay. I swear I saw this guy in the “Taste of Armageddon” ep, but no.

There’s this one:

Recognize her?

She's calling Perry to fake a conversation to convince the guy above that Perry knows he stole his hit song from her husband.

A young Ellen Burstyn!

Then there’s this archetype: the Beach Bum.

It’s a very odd scene. The guy shows up and tries to be menacing by being . . . a filthy guy in the sand.

And finally, Mason turns the courtroom into a CIRCUS, according to Berger.

He has a point.

This is what Halloween costumes looked like at the time.

I wonder if there will come a time when this image means nothing to anyone, and its purpose is obscure.

It’s 1923.

Drag a Radiola down to the Stag Smoker:

It’s guaranteed to work! Plug it in, improvise an antennae, and delight the people.

Googling around, I see that Ericsson made a Radiola, but for the Swedish market. RCA made an Aeriola first, but it sold poorly, so they renamed it. And it sold well.

Here’s what it looked like. One-hundred-year-old tech; it’s fascinating.

When the name's right on the money:

It is exactly that.

Why be tethered to headphones when you can hear the golden notes pour forth from a horn on your table? An age of wonders!

I wonder if anyone ever suggested U-Reka:

I think I left out the EKA page.

It’s the Turk’s Head Building.

The skyscraper's peculiar name dates back to the early nineteenth century, when shopkeeper Jacob Whitman mounted a ship's figurehead above his store. The figurehead, which came from the ship Sultan, depicted the head of an Ottoman warrior. Whitman's store was called "At the sign of the Turk's Head". The figurehead was lost in a storm, and today a stone replica is found on the building's 3rd floor façade.

I think I missed a page here too.

Over, under, and thru! They’ve been using the “thru” spelling for a long time.

For some reason people think the 20s was all modern stuff, Art Deco, with bony flappers reclining in angular chairs. No; it was this.

		These ads, you might have guessed, come from an electrical consumer-goods industry mag.
		The Electro-Magnetic Voice-activated Duck: I wonder how this worked. I wonder if this worked.

We think we wouldn’t be too surprised if we ended up in the 20s, aside from the fact that we had been dropped back in time a full century. But. Would you expect to see one of these in a store?

You think my, that's like the Motograph Zipper and just like our signs today, where the letters move from right to left!

Then I thought about it for a moment, and thought: no, that's not it.

But how did they change the text?

That will do! Off to the Quasicomics, continuing with Camel Hagiographies.