Try the pistachio latte, next time?

Unrelated: Have any pictures of the park the co-bros were talking about last week — Gas Works Park, I think?

A patch of Calla lilies at Sutro Heights Park in San Francisco (April 19, 2026)

Closeup of a heart-shaped Calla lily

“Lily” 🙂

bsky.app/profile/wa7i...

The -ai is your search buddy.

Your small town blues melting away?

(I hear) You make it there, you always make it anywhere.

Saw an adult coyote crossing JFK Drive while riding my bike thru Golden Gate Park y’day. It’s a car-free street, with lots of people walking/running/biking, the poor animal must have felt so lonely.

Therapy, on a wet day—thank you, betsy.

Definitely a Dignity Wraith, to use a @joshtpm.bsky.social neologism.

Also a few Emmys for Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.

She elevates everything she’s in.

Ha-ha, can hear it.

Noreen. Cursed to never find a normie talker. First the high talker, then the long talker, then …

Tanned. Rested. Ready.

Eddie 2026

The Daytrippers Trailer YouTube video by sonysloba

For some reason I want to rewatch The Daytrippers now.

youtu.be/oK7YDkwSud8

@walsh.bsky.social Am averting my (vegetarian) eyes, but passing this along since I suspect it will spark joy for you.

Sunset at Crissy Field in San Francisco, Wednesday (April 15, 2026)

Sunset at Crissy Field in San Francisco, Thursday (April 16, 2026)

Have been trying to catch the sunset ~7:45 every day, en route to the Presidio Y, and taking a pic if I feel like it. Art > Nature y’day (www.sfmoma.org/event/member...), but I knew where to get my fix. 🙂

Not sure why my iPhone doesn’t capture the pinks too well; I do see them with my trusty eyes.

It does seem a touch arbitrary. May be queued up, though; another article I went back to read had an audio version hours after I first clicked on it.

Ditto the New Yorker. I was relieved the Farrow-Marantz piece on Sam Altman had an audio version, even though it was as long as a feature film!

Loved it, Elias.

Familiar with Douthat from his blogging (and BloggingHeads) days. You have his number.

Don’t know about the size of his fingers, but the man is as much of a vulgarian as Trump, only in a different register (that is palatable to Times readers now).

Liz Taylor in The Sandpiper, wearing a red wool poncho designed by Irene Sharaff

Not a caftan, but this poncho would be good for San Francisco summers.

Ha-ha. I enjoyed Molly Knight flipping the table here last night, an antidote to the “Noah Wyle is a god among men” sentiment.

We’re mostly talking about adults here, but I always notice how excited the children of friends can get when they visit me (in SF, from the suburbs) occasionally on the weekends. It’s not just being able to walk, and take MUNI or BART, but all the people and things to see once we step out.

Heh.

Turn this into a Shouts & Murmurs piece.

They all seem to have a cat in the establishment, among other things.

How Zendaya’s film characters are “raced” is almost always an outgrowth of their romantic or sexual worlds, which are almost unilaterally with white men. An extremely fragile veneer of post-racial logic blankets these spiky romances, which take place in conspicuously progressive cities. Tashi Duncan sneering “I’m taking good care of my little white boys,” in “Challengers,” is a perfunctory gesture—really, a tell—in a film that had no use for her psychology elsewhere. Because Zendaya plays young women, these women still have parents, and the actors cast to play her parents—which is to say her history, the expository reasons for her Blackness—typically flit in and out of the background, there to signify and do nothing else. It can often feel as if Zendaya has been added to a preëxisting story, like salt on a finished dish. The ostensible fear is that of identity hardening into a cudgel, foreshortening a character’s emotional palette. But why can’t it expand that palette?

Excellent bit of writing by Doreen St. Félix, that expands on something @aishaharris.bsky.social brought up on the spoiler episode of PCHH.

www.npr.org/transcripts/...

Don’t think it’s common knowledge she’s Jewish?

Bringing the puppet onto the couch signals acceptance that the ventriloquist’s dummy is not an inanimate object but a part of his inner self worthy of analysis, ergo progress?

A depressing read.

Plausible.

RIP, Norman. ❤️

Yeah, that scans. This is the rare instance I did not read (or listen to) the source—and it shows! Thanks for catching me before I went full mansplainer.

Anxious about bonus blue bin. Hope it is safe.