Daily Blague

Despite the schmutzy weather, I've got errands and doctor visits today. I also had to pick up a lamp that had been repaired. On my way back from the hardware store, I stopped in for lunch at Burger Heaven, the recently-opened local branch of a chain that has been going since before I was born, apparently. It certainly takes me back to childhood. The look of the place is not exactly retro, but - perhaps it's just the cleanliness. I had a chef's salad (I'll ask that it be tossed in the kitchen next time), and read from Nobody's Perfect, Anthony Lane's collection of New Yorker pieces, an incomparable vademecum with the added (and important) attraction of lying flat when opened. It would have been perfect if Dubya's face hadn't been on the silent television mounted in the corner by the window. What's he doing on television, I wondered, anxiously. Why isn't he in Crawford, where he can't stir up trouble? When I got home, I called up a friend, and was told that the President is pontificating somewhere in the heartland about tort reform. Oh, well. But the image of that man on the screen remains very disturbing. (So far, there's nothing about this latest release of hot air at the Times Web site.)