Sunday Scenes

Today’s final pairing at Ridgewood, NJ. Keegan Bradley & Bryson DeChambeau. Why aren’t they constantly on the clock? As they painstakingly perseverate over lining up each shot, there’s plenty of time to take a long walk around the block.

Never know who or what you’ll see. A visiting star from the great beyond. Or. A guy shlepping his flea market furniture find home. Only in NYC!

 

 

Street Talk

Not those Queens quips from Hot Air One. Although they qualify. It’s what’s overheard on the street. People on cell phones talking at high decibels. Intimate conversations with lovers. Bosses firing employees. The quack doc complaining about his wacky girlfriend crying on the floor in front of the elevators in the lobby of his building. Mother berating another over how to parent. Wife telling someone her husband’s working late every night. Even on weekends. She’s stuck home with the kids. Yup. It’s an audible soap opera every day. We can hear you!

Word on the street. U.S. Open. Ricky Fowler for the win. Wishing for Poulter. Looks like D.J.

Signs of the Times

It’s as true now as it was in May of 2016 in Hatfield, Massachusetts. One house. Two signs. Same message.

Socioeconomic stratification. It’s still the driving force in current geopolitical nationalistic leanings. Not silos of identities. Race. Gender. Ethnicity. Religion. Even political party affiliation. Middle classes continue to yearn for recognition, respect and relevance. Whether in Hillbilly Elegy country, America’s heartland and rust-belt. Or. In Italy. The U.K. France. Steve Bannon &  now  Barack Obama understand this. Who will embrace it and run in the next generation?

Just Sail Away

Please. Take a cruise. Around the world. Stop at every port. Buy bangles and spangles. Hillary. Nancy. Chuck. Lizzie. Bernie. Leahy. Durbin. Even Dianne. Old Dem leadership needs to take the gangplank up to the poop deck on an outgoing ocean liner. Bridge lessons. Lounge acts. Poolside leisure chairs. DNC should fund it. All aboard!

Wave goodbye to the throngs of new blood below waiting to commandeer a new day.

March Mad Winds

Forget about basketball madness. Here we go again. Another nor’easter. Snow and wind. This one called Quinn. Mighty or fizz? Bob Dylan’s Quinn the Eskimo sung by Manfred Mann. Written after Dylan saw Anthony Quinn’s Inuk the Eskimo in a movie. Those still without power in Westchester getting hit with a two-punch. March sure has come in like a lion.

At least they won’t be subjected to live feed of squealing women begging for a Bachelor to give them a rose and a ring. We’ve not come a long way, baby. And there’s the new law suit against Trump by that looming next tempest. Porn star Stormy Daniels.

3 Days In

Happy New Year?!  Predictions unfortunately already trending:

~ Trump will tweet a lot. Check. Pakistan. Iran. Huma.
~ NYT and CableNews will freak out about it daily. Check. Check.
~ So will certain friends and relatives. No comment.
~ Garbage trucks. Of course. This morning.
Retail stores shuttering in 2018.
~ Golden Globes Sunday. Movies. Yawn.
~ North Korea. Big buttons. Closer to check.