Well, you'd think my keyboard was purloined along with the car. That drama is almost over. I'm signing the title over to the insurance and contesting a parking ticket written during the 36 hours between theft and recovery. I'm getting just over two grand, which is way over the trade-in value. A CPD detective left me a message to contact him to close out my file, but A) he apparently has no record of our previous conversation which should have closed everything out, and B) No one answers the number he gave me.



So this weekend we got through some Netflix movies and got out to see Zatoichi, which was excellent. At home we saw The Trouble With Harry - Hitchcock's only attempt at a straight comedy, and considering his other movies are full of humor, I was expecting this to be darker than it was. Shirley MacLaine sure was cute back then, as evidenced by this and The Apartment. We also watched The Stranger -- not Camus, and thankfully not Billy Joel, but Orson Welles's only commmercial success as a director. Quite good despite a draggy second act and a drip of a heroine in Loretta Young.



I'm watching bits of the Olympics when I can. Not having cable, my viewing is limited to NBC and Telemundo. The flagship network coverage is of course a crapfest, full of personal struggles over adversity and the same non-quirky sports we see all the time. And I'm especially pissed that Costas & Couric couldn't be troubled to shut their goddamn yaps for three minutes while Björk was performing in the opening ceremonies. So I flip over to Andres Cantor & company a lot, and now find myself fully on the Iraqi soccer bandwagon. Seem to me that Americans of most political stripes can find something to rally behind in their success.