Thursday miscellanea #548

Tuscaloosa calls. The more Nate does to get ready to go, the more I think I’m going too. (Not to babysit him. Just to have the experience.) I’m very excited for him.
I’m irritated with a lot of the COVID-19 coverage as things open back up. “No spike in cases!” the headlines read, after everything’s been open for about four hours. I definitely hope the news holds, but call my enthusiasm measured until another two or three weeks elapse.
Little Richard, one of the primary architects of rock ‘n’ roll by any reasonable measure, has died at 87. He is to be buried in Huntsville next week. RIP and thank you, sir. Rock ‘n’ roll is one of my very favorite things in the world.
I watched Upload, which barely successfully argued for its continued viewing with every episode and definitely would not have made it without the charms of Andy Allo. I’m not sure the comedy mix is correct for the show. If the central premise intrigues you, then the Black Mirror episode San Junipero is a much more creative and profound treatment of the topic.
Our home telephone service is with magicJack now. We’ve had it about a month, I guess. It’s transparent, except that we don’t have the name on Caller ID anymore (just numbers). That hasn’t been much of a hardship.
The latest product to show up ubiquitously in my feeds with the creeping realization that I’m eventually going to purchase it is Bachan’s Japanese Barbecue Sauce. Review forthcoming, of course.
I’m so starved for this damned (NASCAR!) race there are no words strong enough. The depth of my affection for televised sports has been one of the great revelations of this exercise. Asked about it, I’d have absolutely understated it. IndyCar back in three more weeks, also without spectators.

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