Hello! Good morning good afternoon. Oh lordy today got away from me. I made the critical error of sleeping in a bit, thinking after my marathon workday yesterday, and working all day Sunday, I had gotten everything into a triaged state that could, you know, make it till 10 AM the next day. BUT NO. Woke up to two new fire drills and my internet being all fucked up. What a mess. Still crawling out of the hole, but I could never abandon you guys. You are my sanity. You are my therapy. You are my community. You are my friends.

Story going around about how, some years ago, Neutrogena dropped Hayden Panettiere as an abassador because she had the gall to talk about post-partem depression on live television. They tried to drop her immediately, using the good behavior clause, but her agent put a stop to that. But of course they didn’t renew.

I get the impression this happened a few years ago. And I strongly suspect that the people who did this are long gone from the company because no one stays anywhere in cosmetics marketing for very long. Every job is a ladder rung, etc. etc. And now people are boycotting Neutrogena for this giant offense.

And I suppose one could argue that it’s not this Neutrogena that committed the offense, but, I mean, what else, then? Are corporations people or not? They shouldn’t be people, but our insane legal system thinks they are. So, you know, take it on the chin for the shitty decision like a person would. A person can’t say, “oh, you know, I have sloughed off those skin cells that actually hit that person in the face four years ago so, technically speaking, it wasn’t me that did that.”

Apparently “Neutrogena” has an “o” in it. Who knew.

So even though it’s funny to me and I have sympathy for the poor brand manager running around trying to put the fire out, and it’s not really fair that person’s week has gone to shit… I still think boycotting Neutrogena is just great.

The serenity walk caved in in a small part. This is the really long walkway that leads from the parking lot to the Neurodivergent-Affirming Pediatric Speech Therapist office. The kids love it. But now it is broken. Do you know how hard it is to find Emergency Serenity Walk Repair people to come in a timely manner? And I just got the HVAC fixed, which went out while we were in Boston. Tenants are getting irked with me, but it’s not my fault! I am trying! Luckily I already had a crew booked to, sometime this fall, do a bunch of maintenance on the walk, so I begged them to come more quickly. Hopefully I can get out there by tomorrow.

And you know, these kids. Well, let’s just say some of them do NOT like routine change. Exactly the clientele this sort of unexpected event upsets the most.

Alack.

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Listening to Conway Savage this morning afternoon. He passed of brain cancer in 2019, but he has a new 2XLP out. I had assumed this was a compilation, but it seems to be all new music? No. I lied. It is a compilation. Discogs just has it listed in the wrong category. Most of Conway’s stuff is unavalailable these days, at least in America. He was Australian. Member of the Bad Seeds. Played piano. Had a golden voice. Does the amazing backing vocal on “When I first came to town.” He is so good. Anyway, you can buy this album here, and I urge you to do so. Does not seem to be on streaming yet. Though three of his older albums are on Apple Music, and a bunch are on Spotify as well.

Reader, I spend an extraordinary amount of time in my life thinking about the lyrics to Prince’s sex jam “Gett Off.” A lot of time. I have been thinking about the lyrics since it came out. Lotta sexy jam lyrics, dude is concerned that a woman isn’t getting enough action, offering to help out. Then he brings over to his “Paisley Crib,” and offers her something to eat.

“Ribs” she says.

Ribs.

Why the fuck does this woman want ribs?

And she says it in a really confrontational way, like she’s not sure she should be at his Paisley Crib (your senses serve you well, unnamed woman), and also maybe she’s trying to see if he really does have anything to serve her? I don’t fucking know.

And then Prince gets all offended she wants ribs and suddenly, instantly changes from this dude who’s being all smooth and sexy and encouraging to full-on negging her. He doesn’t serve ribs, she better sit down before she tears that dress, she better be happy it’s still on, etc etc.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Ribs.

I mean, one could argue it’s just there to rhyme with “Crib” but WHY? Could be his paisley…. uh… park? Instead? Or joint or house or whatever the fuck.

RIBS.

Girl, I don’t serve ribs.

Then why the fuck did you ask what she wanted, bro?

Prince had problems, man. You read that Sinead O’Connor bio? Dude had problems.

Boy I sure am glad I’m not a tech bro who’s pinned his entire schtick to being a giant Prince fan.

Ribs. Get outta town.

This Ian McEwan novel I’m reading is so good. So much thought about two areas of intense fascination to me: diction and digital footprints. That is basically my life, I suppose: diction and digital footprints. Okay, that is hyperbole. But they both of extreme importance to me.

A mean reads a poem to a group of people in 2014. One hundred years later, a historian pieces together the exact reactions of every person in the group listening to the poem. Some are enthralled, some are bored. The people listening are varied. One is a vet. Two are writers. No, three. One is a handyman. They all have different reactions to the poem, ranging from rapture to indifference, and the reactions do not align exactly to the cliches of their professions. It’s all so expertly done, just beautiful. And, of course, as someone who does not particularly like poetry, dare I say… validating? A bit?

Ian McEwan is a master. I always forget this when I take a break from him, because his stories are all about people being normal people and there are no dragons or lasers and so when I’m reading the description on the back of the book it does not exactly draw me in. “A couple in Vienna takes a walk” or some shit. Pass. But his diction! His insights! Just so good.

I wonder how hard he worked on this novel. Did he dash it off? Did he pour his body and soul into it?

Jane is going swimming today. I gave her iPad for a single hour in the midst of my harriedness today and it immediately turned her into a holy terror. That shit is CRAZY man. Just crazy. Hard to listen to Taylor Lorenz or Data and Society tell me over and over that screens aren’t that bad when you watch such a stunning transformation of a child within an hour, and just from watching benign content. It is unnerving.

And then you got the writer Kat Tenbarge commenting yesterday that she’s given up and started a Youtube channel because people keep telling her they love her content, but “they don’t read.” And then I look at my own analytics, where GMHHAY has about 1/3 the readership my old podcast had listeners. Reading is dying, I guess. Or so they tell me. Man, I knew I was gonna become an anachronism in my old age but I thought it was gonna be because of my musical tastes or something. But no. It’s the written word.

I’m okay with it though. I’m like a dude who repairs antique tapestries or something. Put me in booth in Colonial Williamsburg. This, children, is called a keyboard. How quaint.

Whoops this was supposed to be about Jane. She came round. Took about 40 minutes. Involved her laying in a closet then theatrically moaning and crawling like a zombie to the kitchen for lunch while moaning “I’m bored” over and over.

Kid has it tough.

I swear I am going to make playlists again soon. I’m slowly working through all these records that came in while I was gone, giving them a listen, then adding them to the “To Investigate” playlist and star tracks for playlists. I have SO MUCH new stuff in there to get through. But the process takes time. You gotta trust the process.

In the meantime, enjoy this live version of one of the greatest songs ever written, “Hobo Humpin Slobo Babe.”

Ugh more internet problems. Been a nightmare today getting anything done. I better hit send while the internet works. BYEEEE.