I saw Barbara Stanwyck say about her throat, “It’s as red as the Daily Worker and just as sore.” In Ball of Fire, directed by Howard Hawks, screenplay by the great team of Billy Wilder & Charles Brackett. More Hawks at BAM for the rest of the week.
I mated some slices of black prince tomato and Flying Pigs bacon with a slather of mayonnaise between two slices of sourdough.
I saw Virtual JKF. Didn’t suck, but it was still iffy. More considered opinion here.
I wilted some tat soi, a Chinese green from my CSA farm.
I read this article about Obama’s chances in November. Scary.
I heard a busker with a pan pipe and guitar playing a haunting version of Simon & Garfunkle’s “Sounds of Silence” on the R train. He was playing as we went through Cortland St, the ghost station that hasn’t been open since the morning of 9/11/01. "The words of the prophet are written on the subway walls."
I read Courtney Humphries’ Superdove: How the Pigeon Took Manhattan … and the World. Stupid title, miserably designed, but quite good content.
I heard about the infant formula poisoning in China. They waited 9 months, after the Genocide Games, to recall the stuff. Authoritarian capitalism, red in tooth and claw, just like we used to have before the Progressive Era and the New Deal, and the state so many Republicans yearn to return to.
I saw three women waiting to see RachelRayTM in a studio on E44th St. One said, with great excitement: “You went to see Regis!?”
I read this fine debunking of foreign policy shibboleths, most repeated by both McPalin and Obama.