The Daily Riff.
Humor, Reviews, Sports Picks, and whatever else invades my mind.
Hollywood’s Golden Age is officially over, but has anyone checked on Esther McGillicutty? She had three lines with Jimmy Stewart, a pudding to finish, and no intention of letting an entire era close without consulting her.
Baseball tracks launch angle, exit velocity, and spin rate. But when two Padres pitchers took paternity leave during the playoffs, apparently nobody had checked the nine-month projection.
Two photographs, one magnificent view, and a graffiti-covered sign with something to add. A photographer considers what belongs in the frame—and remembers providing VW-bus security for a giant high-school graffiti artwork.
I obsessively track food deliveries, mostly to argue with the air about the route. A Maryland woman kept seeing “Mark” on her Domino’s tracker and wondered whether he was real. He was—and there was a lot more to him than the current condition of dinner.
A license plate reading “MS TAT” sent my brain searching for “MR TIT.” They could have a tit for tat, but I cannot imagine the DMV approving their romance. Love apparently needs administrative review.
Nearly 1,400 Ohio factory workers lost their jobs days before a nearby Trump rally. Apparently, the economy’s problem is public relations. I’m going to try that explanation on my mortgage.
“No offense.” “I’m not judging.” “With all due respect.” We have an entire language devoted to warning people that the next sentence will contradict the first. Something is coming. Please put on this helmet.
I worry about checked luggage. These people allegedly packed marijuana with dryer sheets and glued the locks shut. Somewhere, a police dog reviewed their work—and remained unconvinced by fresh linen.
My new shoulder pillow promises “No more aching morning,” but needs up to 72 hours to recover from shipping. Three armholes, a cooling cover, and apparently a serious case of jet lag.