Okay, let's start from the top: The ugliest unit eyescape in Horton Plaza, and I mean the ugggliest, is the view straight on with your back to this kid store called Gymboree on the topmost …

No reason to blow-by-blow the cheesygame. Every other question, it seems, involves the Moody Blues or Eric Carmen. And every question, every question Roger gets — even “Which group sang ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’?” — he gets wrong.

As we start talkin', I notice, for the first time since initially laying ears on him, that Roger's voice is notvibrating with that — whatcha call it? — radio resonance. Which, it’s about time, puts me at relative ease.

Since Pennsylvania, excluding Missouri and a couple of urban accidents adjacent to rivers, a suspension of disbelief had seemed called for in cozying up to the question WHY HERE? Why a bunch of Euros would come here?

It should be evident that golf, and especially golf with Bob Hope, has given me as much enjoyment, relaxation and laughter as anything else in my life. Golf is a great game that has grown …

Three yankers ago, I lost between a pint and a quart when the jerk nicked an artery during a "routine" wisdom extraction. Four dentists (and another wisdom tooth) back, I lost a pint from just a vein.

Up to this point I have got on with officers. I've occasionally enjoyed officers. I’ve even I guess learned from officers; but no, I have not fully, openly conversed with one. Jawed with no self-edit. Shot the actual shit.

Barracks, Jack: double tiers of extremely made beds. Everything's so beyond-life antiseptic you could eat off — well I wouldn't eat off the floor, but I’d feel pretty safe having open heart surgery on it.

There is no more a problem of truth in wrestling than in the theatre. — Roland Barthes, Mythologies I threw the paper into the corner and turned on the TV set. After the society page …

Okay, he's dead. All this brand new grief and hardship never befell him; never will. But words on pages remain: What is their lot? Lester's standard fare was so paradigmatically “of the moment" that he was the rockmag shootist.

1956 $64,000 Question it’s a real muscle of a show. No reason I couldn’t be on it. I can grow sideburns, change my name to Elvis Meltzer, wear a leather jacket and pointy-toed shoes.