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*standing up on a plane* I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by Grimace Starving, hysterical, purple, he dragged himself to town from McDonaldland like a thief who’d come to steal the dawn. Looking like a bloated Zorro in the hat and mask he’d begged borrowed stolen from the Hamburglar,

And it’s gonna succeed.

Bob doesn’t like to get too involved in politics these days; if he’d just posted this as his advice to Trump it would have been a whole thing if didn’t want to deal with. So my theory is that he hid it in a letter from Chopin to a gangster.

It’s notable that the basic attitude toward art, politics, etc in these letters is pretty consistent. (No matter who the letter is supposed to be from, it pretty generally just sounds like Bob himself).

A lot of Bob Dylan’s letters from one dead person to another are basically letters from Bob to or to Bob, thinly disguised. Today’s letter from Chopin to Frank Costello reads like the advice he declined to give Trump in that NYT article when he turned 80.

“For thine is the kingdom, forever and ever, ma na ma na.”

My investing moves have been based on assuming it’s like this. And they can always add more balderdash so I’ve gotta be careful, but it’s worked out very well the last couple of months.

When I worked at Starbucks in suburban Atlanta around then all of the regulars who never left were hardcore libertarians. We actually had some good, reasonable discussions. I never heard them mention Rand, though.

Why didn’t they change their name to the Dick See Chicks? It’d probably really piss off people who are into “Dixie” crap. “Look away” is right. Damn this bartender pours stiff drinks.

So, uh, when Apple Pay flags your transaction as suspicious, they really say stuff like “you have one opportunity to make your case” and “the court is not patient,” right? Should I hold out until they tell me I’m bantha pudu just to make sure?

This is about one of the people they used to know who is now a truck driver’s wife.

“We won’t have to drive this car just as far as we could and abandon this car out west… not with this five speed gear box and long endurance!”

Not sure how the algo decided to show me this, but okey dokey: kindle erotica about a dominatrix and an ICE agent. I'm glad to see the description says "this is not an 'enemies to lovers' story. amzn.to/4vQXL45

Sue the bastard.

Yeah, a guy who offers you fabulous riches for a coin toss has gotta be up to something. Even if you win, you lose because of some monkey’s paw shit, and when you try to go back to the carnival the coin toss you won’t be there anymore. The tatttooed lady will tell you he never existed at all. Duh.

That does seem like a weird one; like, isn’t it worse -not- to be a shitter? One who does not shit? But it also sounds like the sort of thing that might catch on in some town in Maine.

Simon and Harrison is the great lost duo of the 70s. Think of a whole show or album as good as their SNL duets. George’s bit on “Homeward bound” might be his finest moment. youtu.be/KEgBMTMUanU?...

There’s a lot of stuff in King that I have to chalk up to local dialect.

The more I think about it, the more certain I am that I’ll take the million. Partly because I don’t know what I’d do with a billion. Also, if someone offers you that kind of flip, there’s no way you’re going to win it. Just no way.

Also I’d be really suspicious that whoever was offering that kind of coin toss was up to something.