Black & White Friday
Headline from newsmax.com: “Trump: US Has ‘Wonderful Future’ Ahead.” May it be so. Unfortunately, news of the new Covid variant that may be vax-resistant put a damper on that positive message.
Seems the folks north of us are facing a similar problem. Headline from NM: “Canada Murder Rate in 2020 Hits 15-Year High.”
From my perch at the floating book shop, I’ve observed that false eyelashes seem to be making a comeback — unfortunately.
Last night Decades, channel 5–5 on ota in NYC, ran a marathon of the Dean Martin Celebrity Roast. They are so much fun on several levels. First, of course, is the array of talent and the eye-glazing nostalgia it imparts. It is also a showcase for the incredible variety a free nation has to offer. And the shows were produced long before many Americans lost their sense of humor. The station posted a content disclaimer. There were jokes about Italians, Poles, Jews and Blacks, and the audience ate it up, as did the stars on the dais. My favorite on these shows is Red Buttons, who excoriates the honoree by citing those who “Never got a dinner.” I always wonder if he wrote his own material, as he did when he started his show biz career as a vaudeville comedian. I ran a search on it but found nothing to corroborate my suspicion. Here’s a three-minute video of Buttons at the Jimmy Stewart roast:
There’s nothing like dumb luck. My intention was to park the old Hyundai in the lead spot at the corner of East 13th and Avenue Z and hope it would stop drizzling later on. The space was occupied by someone who may have assumed there was no alternate side regulation this day. As I was walking to my car, debating whether to settle for the second spot and make do, I noticed a twenty dollar bill and single sticking to the wet street. I took it as an omen to not to set up shop. The forecast called for strong wind, and not being able to place the display directly beside the car would have been problematic. So I went home and finished entering a short story, Wonder Wheel, into the Curious Sicilian book file, which is now 148 pages. I still doubt I will reach the 200-page target I set for a print edition. Since there was plenty of time to fill when I was done, I decided to go outside and see if the spot was open. It wasn’t. There were patches of blue in the sky. I wanted fresh air, so I hung out at the corner in case a woman who promised me books would show. She didn’t, but another did. She made a call on her cell phone and soon a young woman pulled up in a SUV. In the rear there were three plastics bags and three boxes filled with books. She was kind enough to drive to where my car was parked, three-quarters of a block away. I stuffed whatever I could into the empty spaces in the boxes in the back seat and left the rest on the street as I went to ask one of our buildings porters for the loan of a handcart. No one being around, I rolled a wheeled washing room cart out to the spot. Of the hundred or so titles, all are Russian but one, and all but ten are in excellent condition. I will leave those in the lobby tomorrow morning. It’s the type of luck that’s scary. I remember a co-worker who got lucky in a Ponzi scheme being certain something bad would soon happen to him, a balancing of life’s scales. I sort of feel that way now.
My thanks to what I assume are a mom and daughter. Here’s what I brought back to the apartment:
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