Someone is tarring a roof outside. I stepped out earlier to collect my mail, and get a “breath of fresh air,” and instead got a snootful of gag-choke-gasp-blech.
Random Scotto factoids/stream of thought (isn’t my whole journal? all links will have hover info, too) maybe to be rewritten later in a more coherent fashion:
Watching the Angry Beavers this afternoon, I idly noticed that they have a wagon wheel chandelier in the dam. This set off a lot of old memories, because the crew I used to hang with when I was sixteen or so ate at a “Bonanza” (later it changed into Ponderosa, and then into a Perkin’s, and eventually became a cheezy under 21 teen “nightclub”) restaurant near our school in Delray Beach at the time, and it was lit by the same “frontier-style” decor. It was a super-cheap food spot to eat at, and the waitresses were cute in little pseudo-western outfits, so it was a natural place to go after school, or on the weekends. They had fantastic Texas toast and corn on the cob, and really large hamburgers. The French fries were not so great. That place was where we planned the vast our deviltry, far from prying ears of parents or anyone who might care.
One such harebrained plan that actually came to fruition was the theft of a life-size “Mac Tonite” statue from a nearby McDonald’s, and then drowning it at the bottom of a nearby canal, with a flashing street barricade folded underneath to hold it underwater… there was something great about looking at Mac, maybe fifteen feet underwater, only occasionally giving off bubbles and strobing in an eerie amber light. I remember wanting to keep the head, but we feared that keeping it would be evidence against us. I brazenly figured that being under 18 meant that I could get away with it, but was convinced if my parents found out that the punishment would far outstrip the crime.
Speaking of heads, my partner in this crime was Brent, a former fellow student at ACHS, coworker at the Library, (and only other guy willing to actually participate in the more goofy teen schemes we all dreamed up) who died years later from a frying pan hitting the back of his skull. He came to a sudden stop in his jeep on the way home from camping and he hadn’t secured all the junk in the back. He was killed pretty much instantly, and I didn’t find out about it until I saw something about it in LWC’s school newsletter, about six months later. I called his mother, to offer my condolences and she pretty much went to pieces on the phone. He was one of my three best friends during the 80s, and we totally drifted apart after I left the library and college.
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