Filled with whatever poison you imbibe to remember your friends. He was a great character, and deserves to be floated to Valhalla on an ocean of booze (or, you know, apple juice).
Caught Covid in the nursing home, apparently aggravated by receiving the booster (how they didn't know he had covid before that point, who knows?). He had respiratory problems anyway, not to mention a catalogue of other physical problems (truth be told, he should have been dead already, but he was too stubborn to die). It got quite messy there at the end, with the medical staff trying to save him while he suffered most of the torments of the damned. They finally asked his family if they should continue or pull the plug, and they chose mercy. (He was already mostly incoherent from Altzheimer's anyway, so his opinion was apparently not solicited)
I loved the guy like a brother (well, we called each other adoptive brothers). He was a charming rat-bastard, and the two are not mutually exclusive (perhaps you know a few yourself). Then the dementia hit, hard and fast. Two months in the nursing home, and that was all she wrote. Life sucks, and death sucks worse. That's a crappy eulogy, but maybe I can do better later.
I do not particularly follow the sport (my nephew-in-law does), although I have some knowledge of its history. Tomorrow, Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen go head-to-head for this year's championship, which would be an unprecedented 8th time for Hamilton (already the choice of most fans for GOAT in F1). Hamilton tried very hard to hand the championship to Verstappen earlier in the year, but has demonstrated over the last several outings that he can win at will. But will the other drivers allow him a fair shot at beating Michael Schumacher's record, or will there be some mysterious shenanigans to take Hamilton out of the race? It's a real soap opera.
Just completed a hejira to Jacksonville to live with my niece and her family. They have a very nice house.
Charity drive with "Vox Moronica," a parody group of Vox Machina. Very old, but OMG is it funny...
I'm reading Suze Rotolo's autobiography, and there are illustrations of a menu from the Gaslight Cafe in the Village. No date on the menu, but from context it must be from around 1961 or 2.
60 cents for a cup of coffee or a Coke. A buck and a quarter for a cheeseburger. AND there was a cover charge.
I wonder if anybody but tourists ever went there? Those prices are at least 4 times what they'd be in a joint just a few doors away.
Is it just me, or does anyone else find that absurd?
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