It was imperative that we head from Glib’s Gulch to the Great Satan. An old friend of ours from California, a contemporary of Fourscore, was going to be spending a few days in New York visiting kids and grandkids, and was hoping we could come to see her. She’s a delightful woman, sharp, witty, earthy, and sometimes even looks in on this site. She’s an expert on food and wine, and I had been wanting to try a particular restaurant in Chelsea (Chana Mama, plug plug plug, the food was incredible). So arrangements made, Spud and I hit the road, and we had a great time. The next morning, I was up at my usual stupidly early time, so decided to take a walk to Times Square. I haven’t been there in decades and was curious to see the changes.

Two things stood out to me. First, all the neon and lightbulb signs were gone. Everything is LED/LCD. Second, although I never felt particularly unsafe, there clearly was a MUCH higher level of mental illness in the community of people experiencing the derelict lifestyle. Several on every block, mostly babbling at passersby and often laughing at jokes that only they can hear. My favorite was the rather well-dressed woman standing on the street corner screaming at the top of her lungs, ”JORDAN HARRIMAN, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT????” over and over. Then she crossed the street and started screaming, “SKYLER, DID YOU PUNCH AN EIGHT YEAR OLD IN THE FUCKING FACE AND KNOCK HIM THE FUCK OUT?????”

Of course on the next block, there was a guy laying down on the sidewalk masturbating. He would be cranking it in the open, then cover it up with a large rag without losing a beat, then uncover it again. Couldn’t make up his mind. I thought about taking a short video and sending it to one of my female grad students with the note, “Thinking of you,” but Spud talked me out of it.

Anyway, masturbating derelicts remind me of birthdays, and today’s include a guy who would like to have a word with you; a guy who made gay fashionable; a guy who is not particularly revered in the Arab world; a guy who wrote plays about refrigeration; a prime candidate for worst Supreme Court justice of the 20th century (and there’s strong competition); a woman known for solving crimes that interest senior citizens; a piece of shit who stood out among the other pieces of shit; a sportscaster so bad, he makes you long for Joe Buck; the voice of a generation and demographic; a filmmaker who took Tex Avery’s advice about timing and pace; a rather dumb piece of shit who still manages to be an excellent actor in some excellent films; and a guy who was the future of football until he wasn’t.

 

Haven’t we been fed this story before in some other war? . Oh yeah, I guess we did. And probably more times than just this. We really need to get our propaganda more creative.

 

It’s hunting season. Let’s ruin this kid’s life for doing… nothing. One more demonstration of why public school administrators are the lowest form of life.

 

What if you wash them down with Fentanyl-laced Halloween candy?

 

I would be more sympathetic if they didn’t make it racial. Police abuse is police abuse. Oh wait, there’s a lawyer involved.

 

“Our dick is in that hornet’s nest. Comply, Citizen!”

 

More wisdom from a true expert. “Nobody needs 28 brands of shampoo.”

 

More wisdom from a true expert. “We need a way to wet our beaks.”

 

When it comes time to put heads on pikes, I’d like this grifter to be in the first group.

 

Old Guy Music is another demonstration that Don Byas could have been the greatest tenor sax player in the history of jazz. Slam Stewart’s saw-and-jaw was, as always, absolutely fun and delightful.