First Looks category archive

Scare tactics.

Yet another incident of passing politeness:

“On scene, the complainant stated a male was driving a white Nissan Armada and pointed a gun at him, and his 5-year-old daughter, during a road rage incident,” the probable cause statement says.

Yet another responsible gun owner (sic) traverses the turnpike with politeness.

They grow fiendlier every day.

(Warning: Mild language.)

For more about Trump’s bad day, see Liz Dye’s report at Above the Law.

The first thanksgiving in England’s American colonies was in Virginia, three years before any English boot stepped on Plymouth Rock.

The Minneapolis Star-Tribune shares some tidbits about giblets.

The Saint radio show, with Vincent Price as Simon Templar.

I have been a fan of The Saint since I was a young ‘un.

I have read almost all of Leslie Charteris’s novels and short stories and watched all of that most excellent Roger Moore television series, some episodes multiple times.

Of course, neither the television series nor the radio shows were entirely true to Charteris’s Saint. Their Saints were much more law-abiding than the original; the original valued justice over law and was quite willing to break the law to achieve justice. The broadcast series feared to go quite so far.

But the Vincent Price series is a great listen.

Mangy comments at the Youtube page:

Donald Trump was supported by some of the most unhinged, racist, conspiracy-believing, anti-government, fascist-wannabe whackos of all time. The ‘religious’ leaders that supported him were much the same, although generally they tended to be mostly amoral grifters whose holy schtick was an easy way to pay for their luxury lifestyle and pool boys without doing any heavy lifting.

In the olden days, when I was a young ‘un and prowling the local library, I got much pleasure reading the works of P. G. Wodehouse. I know that the author himself was a living anachronism stuck in the Edwardian past, but the man knew how to write.

I look forward to reliving that enjoyment, as I have learned that many of his works are available at Project Gutenberg.

Project Gutenberg and Librivox are two of the most worthwhile projects on the inner tubes.

Off to drink liberally.

It turns out that some tweets are good for us. Needless to say, that aren’t from twits on Twitter.

Psychologist Daniel Fryer reports on a recent study.

The recent study, led by academics from King’s College London, found that hanging out with birds improved not only the moods of people with depression but also the moods of the wider population at large (i.e., pretty much everybody).

The two-week study involved participants from the UK, Europe, the U.S., Australia, and China, so it’s pretty safe to assume that birdsong is of a cross-cultural benefit.

Act quickly, though. My local rag reports that

More than half of bird populations are sharply declining across the United States, and dozens have been added as tipping point species. Others, such as swans and geese, are doing fine.

Tipping point species are close to threatened or endangered because they have lost half or more of their populations in the past 50 years. The State of the Birds Report, by the North American Bird Conservation Initiative, used five different sources of data, including the North American Breeding Bird Survey and the Audubon Christmas Bird Count.

Follow the links for the full stories.

The NBC University Theater of the Air at the Internet Archive.

These dramatizations of classic literature are extremely well done and quite worth your while.

Mangy comments at the Youtube page:

Mangy Fetlocks is not afraid to admit that Wisconsin’s senior Senator, Ron Johnson, is remarkable in many ways. He is remarkably dull, remarkably dense, and is remarkably lacking in transparency. After engaging in the insurrection for “only a few minutes”, he’s remarkably unashamed of backing Trump and The Big Lie. Among his brilliant plans for Wisconsinites (and all American retirees) is to put Social Security up for a vote each year, knowing that, since he is rich and will be on a very plush Senate retirement plan, he needn’t give a damn about how other retirees live. (if they live at all.)

Not far from where I sit is a street named Witchduck Road, which ends at Witchduck Bay.

In my local rag, William Huber writes about the witch who was ducked.