Another Shabbos is upon us, and reflecting back over the past week, shit has gotten ever weirder. On the one hand, it’s kinda fun to sit back and watch the chaos. On the other hand, we don’t really have the ability to duck into a hidey-hole yet (though I’m eyeing dropping a trailer on a corner of Francisco d’Anconia’s Unabomber retreat). Gripping hand, there’s nothing we can do, we have no control over events, and may as well just keep our heads low as long as we can.

Speaking of which, the inevitable birthdays include a guy who always makes me hungry when I read his stuff; someone whose example should have been followed by every First Lady; the greatest American artist, in both senses of that phrase; a mixed bag, but generally a good guy on the Supreme Court (who, in his favor, despised Hugo Black); a guy who, before he went coocoo for Cocoa Puffs, was solid; a guy who fit right in to the Chicago mayoral traditions; a guy who provided fodder for Tom Wolfe; one of the few women who didn’t fuck Captain Kirk; a musician whose lionization I still don’t understand; a pitcher who took losing very seriously; a guy who is famous because… actually, it escapes me; and a decent wide receiver, but no Jerry Rice.

Now the surreal news.

 

From the Department of Who Cares?

 

Why would a guy from Baltimore have to go to LA to get robbed?

 

Thanks for giving your money to smarter people, dumbass.

 

“It was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.”

 

Shoutout to Tonio.

 

In case you were wondering about what Heroic Mulatto was up to.

 

Old Guy Music today seems weirdly appropriate.