Stranger Things place where the gates open to the Upside Down. A place of confusion and panic. Hmmm. Whoever wrote that was prescient. We are in our own version of the In-Between.
Can only see people out the window or on a screen. Most restaurants are re-opening all over the ‘hood. For take-out and delivery. Lenwich, Chinese, Indian, Thai, Greek, Middle Eastern, Cuban. Some with cocktails, too. Let’s clear avenue lanes for al fresco socially-distanced dining!
Sweeper back today. Just brushing the middle of the street. There’s still the caranda. Alternate side next week. Definitely Limbo.
The Snakes, by Sadie Jones. A new novel which isn’t really about reptilia. Even if they are supposedly residing in the attic of a ramshackle hotel in the South of France. It’s more about the slippery slum-lord patriarch of an uber-rich British family and his slithery wife. Yes. Sounds familiar and cliché. But. Hey. It’s a summer read.
Big slimy monsters are no match for the horrifying writing and acting in this season’s Stranger Things. Unless you are trapped under a rock with a tv, don’t waste a minute on the vapid venomoid series.
Speaking of creepy crawlers. Today’s arrest of the Lolita Express’ Jeffrey Epstein. Extreme sequel to Anthony’s Weiner.
9 hours of Stranger Things. An allegorical sci-fi thriller with an exorcism thrown in. Kids are good actors. Weekend diversion. Another season assured. Follow the Three Musketeers wrapper to Dustin’s buddy d’Artagnan crashing an upside down Snow Ball dance. Now-memories.
Downside up. As discussed, the #MeToo movement may have unintended consequences. Sheryl Sandberg agrees. Men may eschew women in the workplace. Dating done?
Upside. Claire Underwood lives! House of Cards continues. Frank killed off?!
And. Christiane Amanpour. Replacing Charlie Rose on PBS.
Holiday photo by G. Levine: Shelburne Centre, Western Massachusetts.
Two flawed presidential candidates. Commander-in-Chief forum on the Intrepid. Should be Trepidation. Stranger Things? That’s a crazy Netflix show. 80’s spoofy scary comedy. Okay. Better than the election.
Over in Flushing Meadows. Is there any more boring U.S. Open ever? Lame. Literally. Defaults. Walkovers. Johnny Mac is apoplectic. So are we. Pouille.
Go Garoppolo! No.