Sneakeater

(Not Neil Diamond) Her mind is easily twisted She's got the Mercedes Benz She hangs out with a lot of pretty boys That she calls Glen

Although they run out of it a lot.

BTW M. Wells’s current tripe dish is off the hook.

(I don't mean you obvs.)

Fenway would be great if they could just change the people who go there.

That knockwurst doesn't look half bad.

I keep telling Sarah to reopen in Ridgewood but she won't listen.

It turns out that if you don't put coffee into your coffeemaker's bin, you end up with a cup of heated water.

I’m pretty sure they don’t own Ridgewood Pork Store.

They do???????????

Yeah on George Street.

Wait you SAW Richard Pryor??????????

The funniest joke in the world is, “a priest, a rabbi, a nun, a blonde, and a duck walk into a bar; the bartender says, ‘is this some kind of joke?’”

But was it all-you-can-eat?

Ditto

You know what the second half of August means? Pasta alla Norma!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, not all hospices are good. (Maison Rustique seems to have a good one for her husband. And I can tell you that Calvary in the Bronx is just phenomenally great.)

Good hospices are awesome.

I mean even living in the Pork Capital Of The Northeast that's exciting.

Yo

Yeah. Not that good.

I think the Stones were doing something different. They were like an ironic art project, where their awareness of the distance between what they were capable of and what their (patently superior) models were capable of was where the art reposed. (Compare the recent Springsteen covers album, which as far as I’m concerned has no excuse for existing when the hugely superior originals are available.) (And wouldn’t you know it, most of the originals are by Black artists. Wonder why Springsteen’s Rockist audience doesn’t listen to them?)

This is interesting to me, as I always thought that, even in Park Slope, Pecking House was too expensive for what it was.

To be clear, I don't focus on the imminence of death. But it's clearly in my consciousness. For example, after a friend had mentioned it, I recently decided -- in all innocence, I thought -- to reread Dante's Commedia. As soon as I started reading, I thought, this can't have just come from out of the blue.

You and me and Mr. Voyager.