September 16, 2024: Volkswagen bus parked on 6th Ave. in downtown Kenosha, Wisconsin.
Another Week: Number 91
On Sunday afternoon, during the second week of the NFL season, there was another assassination attempt on Donald Trump — 64 days after the shooting in Butler, Pennsylvania. Happily, no one was killed or injured this time and, thanks to a quick-thinking citizen, the would-be assassin was quickly caught. Unhappily, this was added to Trump’s “They’re eating the dogs” pork chop as another cable news brain-mallet all week long.
The new acting Secret Service chief tried to be as transparent as he could about the investigation, but the press kept pounding away at the notion that an assassin could lie in wait in the foliage bordering Trump International Golf Club — and the acting director kept responding that Trump’s golf outing was an “OTR” (off the record) movement and that the Service doesn’t pre-scour those.
He probably should have explained that if Trump doesn’t tell them in advance of his plans, they can’t pre-scour every potential location 24/7.
During breaks from these dim stalemates, I hear the Jardiance® jingle six dozen times each day. I get commercials urging me to embark upon a nursing career at Marquette. I get commercials enticing me to join the Army so I can learn to surf in Hawaii.
I get ads from Froedtert Hospital inviting me to remember what it was like before cancer — and push to bring that feeling back.
I would love to, but you see my wife is gone forever.
Tuesday night was the harvest moon. It was already a year ago that I helped her walk from the parking lot to Brown’s Lake and sat with her there for an hour or so while her final summer was winding down.
Perhaps fortunately, there’s a cellular dead zone at Petrifying Springs which forces me to listen to the music on my phone instead of streaming news while I walk. This week was unusually warm and sunny every day, and an older guy out there advised me to stick to the hill where at least there would be some shade.
I walked 12.38 miles this week.
A couple of versions of this song — from Closing Time and The Early Years, Vol. 2 — kept coming up in my playlist shuffles this week.
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State Fair (1933)
I grabbed this movie from TCM and it’s been sitting in my mom’s cloud DVR for several months, so we finally watched it together on Saturday.
State Fair is a 1933 picture starring Will Rogers, Janet Gaynor, and Lew Ayers. A rural family loads their prize hog into their truck and travels to the Iowa State Fair, where the son and the daughter meet companions more worldly than their neighbors back in Brunswick.
The movie is rated 100% fresh on the Tomatometer, but it’s two years older than my mother, and I was unsure whether we should stick with it after the first few minutes of Will Rogers and his pig. Mom wanted to give it a chance, and she was right.
The story might be a little hokey, but it moves along and the performances are solid. What impressed me most, however, was the quality of the production considering the film’s date. There were special effects — the camera takes you on a rollercoaster ride. There were artistic angles and lighting. There were quick edits between aroused swine.
State Fair was an engaging hour and 36 minutes.
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