More Sunday night brain droppings. Summer, 1952 - 10 years old. Days were spent at the swimming hole.

The swimming hole was a section of the Rahway River where the water had carved out a hollow that washed out 6 feet deep. Our N.j. town at that time, had a population of 4,000. The hole, or pond served as the town's swimming site from the '20's until 1970's when municipal pool was build. In winter, the swimming hole served as an ice skating rink.

Summer evenings, after supper, softball, until it was so dark, you couldn't see the ball anymore. Then, maybe time to sit on someone's porch. Maybe mine. Maybe Bobby's or Paulie's. Roller skating was also a possibility. Roller skating until 10 or 11:00 p.m., under the two street lights. And the street itself - the road was ssmmmooooth. Just tar. No pebbles in tar. You could skate up and down the street without hitting a bump. NOT ONE BUMP. By 11:00 or so, we were out of gas. So back home to rest up for another day at the swimming hole.

August. A couple of times we were out until 4 a.m., watching a meteor shower. Was I, 11, 12 or 13 years old? I don't remember. I do remember talking about which girl in the 6th grade was prettiest. Or if anyone was going to make the little league all-star game next year.....The important things in life as they pertained to pre-teen boys.

Neighborhood girls took part in our daytime activities but usually disappeared into their houses after supper. Whether it was roller skating, board games or bike riding, the girls were with us.

We were feral. We were watched out for but our parents were sly about it. We didn't notice that they took a few minutes to take out the garbage, unlike in the cold of winter when dad was in and back in 30 seconds. Or the extra time it took for our moms or dads to walk the dogs.

August. There is a feeling of change that comes to me in about the middle of August. It is a feeling that the impending end of summer means the end of the search for fun. The realization that what is "now," will soon end and with it comes a return to structure: Less fun. This, whether the structure was of school or the structure of work. A kind of feeling that I missed out on things and I won't get another chance at it. I want to cram as much into the last few weeks as I can but I don't have a road map to do this. I get this feeling, even now. even though I am retired and have an endless summer.

Do any of you have such a feeling of being unfulfilled, things not being accomplished, at the end of summer? If so, can you put better words to it than I can?

But this year, this summer is also different and this passage from now to May will be different. I have friends of over 50 years that will probably not survive until next year. And I am watching other friends at the beginning stages of serious ailments. I want to "soak up" as much of them as I can but I know that never works out.

This August is different.

I was listening to an NPR report on Gaza this afternoon. What came to my mind,

this is a modern Warsaw Ghetto.

It was hot last night at the Jersey shore. I was invited to my step-daughter's house on Barnagat Bay -- supper,

sit on the deck and watch the Sun go down. The house is on a border of the Forsythe Preserve, 10,000 acres with an unobstructed view of the preserve's marsh. Looking 20 miles south, you can see the tops of the A.C. casinos.

So, 7:30, it's time to get in the car and head north. I leave the driveway and head to Rt 9. Now there is a decision. Turn right and go home or turn left - Jeffreze Ice Cream, among the best ice cream in N.J., is 3 miles south. I turn left.

I get my cup of ice cream and I'm ready to walk away with it --- and there's a guy, loudly, "I'm going to get the biggest ice cream I can order. I says to myself, "I gotta see this.." So I wait to see the ice cream the guy orders.

Da fuck? He comes out with a cup, about the size of mine. And that's what I says to the guy - "Da fuck? You said you were gonna get the biggest ----

"Oh, I was just bustin' my friends balls. He said he was gonna pay for the ice cream."

Then the guy spots my shirt - The crossed hammers from Pink Floyd's "The Wall." He calls his friend over to see the shirt. Turns out, they are a Pink Floyd cover band. So we proceed to discuss the P.F. concerts we both attended -- The Wall at Nassau Colliseum, Animals at M.S.G. and Pulse at Giant's Stadium.

They are playing on LBI on Aug. 21st. I may just make a trip.

Perfect end to a perfect evening.

Proposal: Billboard in Mike Johnson's district. "Mike does your son know you support pedophilia?"

The Epstein summer recess is nothing more than that.

Guess what I got today that you probably ain''t got. A 2025 PENNY. !

Got it in change.

Any insurance company actuaries out there? How much longer to you give Gilly Maxwell?

From the Star-Ledger, 7/15/25. Why, it's just like being in Texas.

Front page article: "Flood rules plan reined in...." It describes a proposal to loosen flood (zoning) rules. The new rules would use a new "model" that predicts global temperature rising at 2.7 degrees, rather than the current estimate of 3.3 degrees.

--- in other words, builders will be able to build more shit in more dangerous places.


Then we go to page 3: "Murphy declares state of emergency as flash flooding wreaks havoc." For those of you who don't live here, yesterday say flooding in N.J. Highways were closed, cars were ruined, people were rescued by boat. One house exploded.

Who remembers reading about the Texas floods, where Mystic Camp sought AND GOT a revision of the flood plain flooding estimates in order lower their flood insurance costs.

And assholes in Trenton are going along with this.

Epstein... this baffles me. Testimony from one of the victims indicates that she had sex with two prominent politicians.

The judge had their names are redacted in the court documents. Can't an appellate court order the names to be shown?

And then, of course, there is Trump. Who among us wasn't skeived, looking at the photo of Trump in the back of a limo, with Princess Sparkle Pony draped over him. She was approximately 14 years old in the photo.

Or when he would enter the dressing room of contestants in the teenage beauty contest that he ran.

A number of girls were trafficked to the island. The only names to ever come out in pubic were Prince Andrew, Donald Trump and Bill Clinton. And only Andrew was accused of sex with a minor.

What'ja think? Is it gonna be TACO WEDNESDAY?

Prime day(s) start tomorrow. So what is it?

Prime day: Pounding your credit card to go into debt for stuff you don't want or need, for the purpose of impressing people you don't even like.