Something put me in mind of this book the other day.
I never made it all the way through, but it’s fun to take off the shelf. I’m told by turf types this book is considered pretty good if slightly outdated as knowledge, but who cares? It’s fun to read because Ainslie has wonderful style as a writer:
Anyway, reminded me of a lyric from an Irish song I thought I remembered.
Maybe this song never existed? Possible it did once exist, or better yet still does, as unGoogleable Irish ephemera, and I really did hear it once. Or something like it, something close, and between my drunkenness when I heard it and the singer’s when he sang it there was a miscommunication.
Or maybe I was just thinking of this:
On the cover of just about any old issue of Life magazine.
I hardly ever even make it inside.
That’s before you even get to the back covers.
Flavor that goes with fun.
These are just issues I bought at random in a big box on eBay for maybe $25?
(Please continue sending tips on how to photograph old magazines to helphely at gmail. Those from Lydia in Saratoga have been particularly helpful, thanks Lydia!)
Reading this New Yorker profile of Biden threw me back to this YouTube. Master at work:
He loves it.
After [Hillary Clinton] delivered an impassioned endorsement for Obama and Biden at the Democratic National Convention, in 2008, Biden found her backstage, dropped to his knees in gratitude, and kissed her hand.
How about this?:
His friend Ted Kaufman says, “If you ask me who’s the unluckiest person I know personally, who’s had just terrible things happen to him, I’d say Joe Biden. If you asked me who is the luckiest person I know personally, who’s had things happen to him that are just absolutely incredible, I’d say Joe Biden.”
I’d find something poignant when I bought a used copy of Charlotte’s Web.
How about Wilbur’s plan for his day?
His plans for the day went something like this:
Breakfast at six-thirty. Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of maple syrup sticking to them, potato skins, leftover custard pudding with raisins, and bits of Shredded Wheat.
Breakfast would be finished at seven.
From seven to eight, Wilbur planned to have a talk with Templeton, the rat that lived under his trough. Talking with Templeton was not the most interesting occupation in the world but it was better than nothing.
From eight to nine, Wilbur planned to take a nap outdoors in the sun.
From nine to eleven he planned to dig a hole, or trench, and possibly find something good to eat buried in the dirt.
From eleven to twelve he planned to stand still and watch flies on the boards, watch bees in the clover, and watch swallows in the air.
Twelve o’clock – lunchtime. Middlings, warm water, apple parings, meat gravy, carrot scrapings, meat scraps, stale hominy, and the wrapper off a package of cheese. Lunch would be over at one.
From one to two, WIlbur planned to sleep.
From two to three, he planned to scratch itchy places by rubbing against the fence.
From three to four, he planned to stand perfectly still and think of what it was like to be alive, and to wait for Fern.
At four would come supper. Skim milk, provender, leftover sandwich from Lurvy’s lunchbox, prune skins, a morsel fo this, a bit of that, fried potatoes, marmalade drippings, a little more of this, a little more of that, a piece of baked apple, a scrap of upsidedown cake.
Wilbur had gone to sleep thinking about these plans. He awoke at six and saw the rain, and it seemed as though he couldn’t bear it.
Worth paying a visit just to see this model of downtown LA as it was in the ’30s:
That great photo from poster “Citizen” at Archinect
While I was down in that part of the city, I saw a most interesting sight: two sports fans, standing outside the gates of the Coliseum, waiting for summer to end and college football season to start:
While there, don’t miss the sculptures of Naked Woman And Man As Athlete:
The Coliseum “served as the site of the field hockey, gymnastics, the show jumping part of the equestrian, and the track and field events along with the opening and closing ceremonies.”
The 1932 Summer Olympics, officially known as the Games of the X Olympiad, was a major world wide multi-athletic event which was celebrated in 1932 in Los Angeles, California, United States. No other cities made a bid to host these Olympics. Held during the worldwide Great Depression, many nations and athletes were unable to pay for the trip to Los Angeles. Fewer than half the participants of the 1928 Summer Olympics in Amsterdam returned to compete in 1932. Even U.S. President Herbert Hoover skipped the event.
The organizing committee put no record of the finances of the Games in their report, though contemporary newspapers reported that the Games had made a profit of US$1,000,000.