I went grocery shopping yesterday. Walking in the door, I passed a sign very clearly instructing all customers that masks were required in the building, but I was the only shopper I saw who was wearing one. I hadn't realized so few people in my town could read.

Two weeks into February, Coweta County has reported already more deaths from COVID-19 this month than December and January combined. I know that death is a lagging indicator (by approximately two weeks), but I don't know how anyone can look at those numbers and think, "Now is the time to stop wearing masks!"

When I was a kid during the Cold War of the 1980s, I used to wonder how long people would stay in their underground fallout shelters after World War III before emerging to see if the world was once again inhabitable. The answer, I now know, appears to be not quite 2 years. After that, hey, radiation poisoning doesn't seem so bad.

One day, when we send people to Mars, will some significant percentage of the colonists decide that they've simply had enough and walk outside of their protective environments without masks? Is that what happened to the Roanoke Colony? "I don't care that it's snowing outside; I'm not putting on another pair of pants!"

Look, I get that wearing a mask sucks. *I* think it sucks. But so long as an ongoing pandemic continues to kill thousands of Americans — and several of my immediate neighbors — every day, I think I can do at least the least I can do to help prevent further spread.

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When I was a kid, September was my favorite month, because that was the month I got Birthday presents. When I was in college, July was my favorite month, because that was the month where I had the run of campus. But I'm starting to think that November is my favorite month, because it looks like this:

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A month ago, the next door neighbor to our left sold her house. It's disappointing to lose a good neighbor, but it's perfectly reasonable that she should want to move closer to her grandchildren after the death of her husband, a very nice man who was also a former head of our local Board of Education.

The person who bought her house remains unseen. So far as I can tell, no one has moved in yet, but the house receives nearly daily shipments of packages, as though someone was redecorating with entirely new products purchased on Amazon.com. Earlier this week, they even delivered a car, a Mercedes-Benz. I've been joking that someone is building a safe house for spies.

Meanwhile, the neighbors to our right, a couple with young children, backed a U-Haul up to their house yesterday afternoon, and this morning they were gone, taking with them their dog who enjoyed coming into our yard and barking at me. Obviously, we were not as close to them, and their departure was very unexpected.

They left a rollaway dumpster in their driveway filled with furniture, including beds, dressers, and children's' bicycles. Why would anyone leaving a house in such a hurry take the time to throw so much of their stuff away? If it was an eviction, I'd think they would have just left the stuff where it was. If they sold and are moving, why not take the children's toys? The only reason I can think of for anyone to leave in such a state of disarray is because their house is haunted.

I am currently, quite literally, surrounded by mysteries.

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Ah! I remembered what I forgot on Thursday!

I was going to mention that I have now eaten at Wishbone Fried Chicken.

That might seem like a strange thing to say in 2021, considering that the Wishbone Fried Chicken franchise went defunct decades ago.

"Captain Wishbone" advertisement appearing The Red and Black, November 13, 1969

Wishbone Fried Chicken was founded in 1960 by Atlantic Company, formerly Atlantic Ice and Coal Co. which had been created from a merger of three other companies in 1903 by one Ernest Woodruff, the man who bought Coca-Cola from Asa Candler. After a series of more mergers and name changes, Atlantic Jackson-Atlantic Munford Inc. — ultimately re-named by CEO Dillard Munford in honor of the company president, Dillard Munford — had as many as 102 Wishbone locations being run out of Atlanta in 1971, some of which were located inside Munford's own Majik Market convenience stores. (Franchisee solicitations claim there were 57 total Wishbones franchisees in 8 states in 1973.) After selling out to corporate raiders in 1988, Munford (the company, not the man) was declared bankrupt in 1990, and its assets were liquidated or shuttered. The refrigeration company was spun-off to become Americold, which still exists. Wishbone Fried Chicken doesn't.

But the location just a block off the court square in Newnan, Georgia, on the same lot it has occupied since 1970, perseveres with its original signage and franchise signature triangular potato cakes in pecks and barrels. The store has a rabid local following which always intimidated me, though I can now understand why its fans are so committed. They serve some pretty darn good fried chicken, even if "un-greasy" is not exactly how I would describe it.

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Every Batman fan worth his salt knows "The Joker's Comedy of Errors!", better known as "The Joker's Boner" story. Originally presented in Batman #66, Aug/Sep 1951, it can be summed up in one panel:

This is but one of 6 "boner" newspaper headlines in this story.

If you haven't read the story or you struggle with context clues, you might find it helpful to know that my trusty 1977 Webster's New Twentieth Century Dictionary of the English Language Unabridged defines "boner" thusly:

bōn´ẽr, n. a stupid or silly blunder. [Slang.]

As Batman #66 proves, newspaper editors love boners. Which brings us to the point of today's post.

In order to fill column space As a public service, The Newnan Times-Herald newspaper reprints food inspection reports from county restaurants. It's usually a lot of repeated warnings that store managers aren't checking the mold levels in their ice machines. (Come on, guys! It's right there in the Georgia Department of Public Health Rules and Regulations, Chapter 511-6-1-.05-7-b-5-iv-II!)

This month, in honor of Independence Day, the paper rewarded loyal readers by giving our local hot dog stand a boner of its own:

Oysters really are an aphrodisiac!

For the record, the restaurant calls itself "The Half Shell Oyster Bar & Hot Dog Shop." Rumor has it their menu was selected because the city wouldn't let them install an oven in their original location downtown, so they chose items they could cook with steam. (Welcome to Newnan!)

I've never had the oysters, but the chili dogs *are* pretty exciting.

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Sunday was just winding down when I got a call at 7:10 PM from the Newnan Police Department. Someone, it seems, had driven into the front of the commercial building my family owns downtown.

The building sits facing a traffic light (at a t-junction), and someone ran straight through the light into the steps. The officer tells me that the driver was unharmed. I'm really only surprised that in the roughly 3/4-century that the building has been there, this hasn't happened before.

It's been a rough 2021 for the building. A tree that was knocked down in a recent storm last month. (It actually was toppled in a windstorm the week *after* the tornado.) The tree fell away from the building, but its roots tore up the asphalt and tore up the fence and the neighbor's awning. For the record, no one was harmed in that accident, either.

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By the time you read this, you probably will have heard about the EF3ish tornado that roared through downtown Newnan, Georgia at midnight. Know that my family and I are fine and feeling very, very fortunate.

UPDATE 2021-03-29: Still no estimate on when Internet might be restored. They're still working on digging out downtown. Rumor had it that the high school might have to be bulldozed, but they've decided to try and save it. Hooray?

UPDATE 2021-03-30: Back online! The utility company says that in three neighborhoods they will have to rebuild their network essentially from scratch. That's terrible. Ours was only out for four days, and I was already suffering intense withdrawal.

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Reported by the Newnan Times-Herald on October 29, 2020:

Players, parents rattled after shots fired near Senoia ballfield

After the second shot, players were lying on the ground in the dugout, according to parents from one of the teams playing.

Adam Griffin said he yelled for everybody to get off the field, and by the time he got to the dugout, the coach had the boys lying face down in the dirt.

Griffin, a military veteran who served time in Iraq said he picked up his stepson and directed everyone to go into the bathroom – the safest place. Once all the kids were safely inside, he said he went back out.

That’s when someone yelled "it's only a deer."

After that, everyone came out of where they were hiding and the game resumed.

Because everyone knows those stupid deer can barely hold guns, much less aim them.

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Movie reviews part 1821 through 1823 in a series of indeterminate length:

167. (1821.) Reckless (1935)
This movie's script is, frankly, bad. (What starts as a romantic musical comedy collapses into bland melodrama based on current events with a preachy ending.) It seems the studio paired William Powell and his sweetheart Jean Harlow with the intention of overcoming that shortcoming. I don't think Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone could have saved it.

168. (1822.) People Will Talk (1951)
This anti-hypocrisy morality play could only work with someone like Cary Grant in the title role. Dr. Noah Praetorius' self-righteousness would be insufferable without Grant's impish charm.

169. (1823.) Lost in America (1985)
Albert Brooks and Julie Haggerty yell at each other across America. The comedy exists largely in what is not said, as the characters are blind to their own absurdity. It definitely has its moments, not the least of which is when the couple's RV travels through Atlanta and the delightful hamlet of Newnan, Georgia:

Thirty-five years later, Lagrange Street still looks like this on the way to Newnan High School. Of course, in 1985, that sign was pointing to I-85 Exit 8. They now call it Exit 41, which is just as well since they added an additional exit just up the road when they moved the hospital from Hospital Road to Poplar Road to accommodate the giant Summergrove residential community built on the east side of the Interstate back at the turn of the 21st century. They call the new exit 44, which is probably a better name than 8½.

More to come.

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Two years ago, I helped my mother with invitations and other aspects of preparing for her 50th high school class reunion. Part of that included developing art and layout.

The reason I mention that now is this placard recently spotted in the local public library:

That's my design at the top of that flyer, presumably taken from the reunion website.

It's kind of cool to see something that I had a hand in placed in a cultural archive. I'm immortal!

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