July 7, 2026

In no particular order…

• Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce Wedding
• Roberto Durán and Iran
• Not Invited To Play On The Billion Dollar Basketball Court
• My Sophomoric Wish of The Week
• Funnin’ With Harvard
• An Unintended Consequence of Unbridled Admiration and Ranch Dressing
• My Mom, Dad, and Hassan Piker
• Dead Fish
• Caitlin Clark
• In-Person Banking and Uber
• Living On FB

TAYLOR SWIFT AND TRAVIS KELCE WEDDING

One of the biggest stories in America. The expected cost was a stratospheric $10 to $20 million! Ordinarily—no, invariably—I would be decrying such extravagance, SCREAMING about that expense juxtaposed to the 148 million children around the world who go to bed hungry every night.

However!

That most dynamic of all earthly duos just donated $26 Million to multiple food-banks, children’s hospitals, and children’s education and literacy organizations. Just now. By all accounts, their philanthropy is exceptional. So, my open note to the newlyweds: Hope you enjoyed your wedding. Live the life you wish for others. Continue doing good on a grand scale.

ROBERTO DURÁN AND IRAN

Someone explain precisely what “technical talks” mean. I make and take in a lot of talks. Other than John explaining to me why my aging however fancy car is again in a funk, I do not get it. Particularly in context of U.S. and The World vs. Iran.

Are we getting played? Iran increasingly behaves as though America is negotiating for second place.

Who are the best dealmakers?

“plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose”. The more things change, the more they stay the same. —Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, 1839.

Are we getting to the point when Roberto Duran wisely uttered: NO MÁS!

NOT INVITED TO PLAY ON THE BILLION DOLLAR BASKETBALL COURT

The Obama “library”—by all accounts that architectural catastrophe is essentially barren of written materials—is still remarkable in some ways, including the awesome basketball court. The bummer, for me, is that the team conspicuously not invited to play on it are the African American contractors who have been unceremoniously stiffed. Some put out of business.

MY SOPHOMORIC WISH OF THE WEEK

For decades, New York was my second favorite city in the world. I referred to it as “my home away from my home.” No more. I fear walking the streets. Crime is one thing. The other, well, I fear some element of germophobia coming on.

OK. Enough of entertaining myself with marginally relevant prose. This is about Darializa Avila Chevalier. 33,000 New Yorkers voted for her in a primary for New York’s 13th Congressional District. Thus, running into one or more of them, while walking the streets of New York—a passion of decades—is possible. Perhaps even likely given some awesome entertainment I take in in her district.

Here is my admittedly sophomoric wish. I wish that the names and likenesses of everybody who votes for this New York Congressional candidate, so I do not per-chance run into them. In the apparent event that their disease is highly contagious.

How silly. Just because, among other things, she attended a pro-Palestine rally the day after the October 7, 2023, Holocaust in Israel.

This is not about misguided support for “Palestine.” It is about moral complicity in barbarism—rape, torture, murder, the disembowelment of pregnant women, and infants burned alive by Hamas with evident pride and unconcealed delight.

FUNNIN’ WITH HARVARD

Big news from Harvard! Anticipating another presidential run by Kamala Harris, the uber-brains who “run” Harvard will now offer a two semester (a full year) course on Decrypting Kamala Harris Speak. The condensed, user-friendly synopsis to be available as a free mobile app.

Obviously, I am messing with you.

Although I may just have given them the idea. Yes, some of those folks read Finger On The Pulse…

AN UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCE OF UNBRIDLED ADMIRATION AND RANCH DRESSING

If you are reading this, I shall assume a certain level of curiosity. If so, your tribe watches about three hours nightly. So… No way could you not see the amazing, truly unbridled joy of experiencing the amazing, unique, wonderful, “nowhere else but here” stuff by the one and half million foreigners in the U.S. for the World Cup. Oh. Some six million more just tourists this summer. You have no appreciation for the U.S. if you do not get moved by the tens of thousands of NON-US people singing COUNTRY ROAD, WEST VIRGINIA in stadiums around the U.S.

The bummer: we are running short of ranch dressing! The rest of the world discovered ranch dressing while running around, enjoying the greatest experiment in the history of the world.

By the way, speaking of American ingenuity, ranch dressing was invented by Steve Henson, in the early 1950s. Indeed, he was a plumbing contractor in Alaska.

MY MOM, DAD, AND HASSAN PIKER

My mom and dad would be proud. Two reasons for the purpose of this short observation…

First, I grew up to be a committed first amendment type. My dad was literally tortured by a communist regime for his uncompromising views and his amazing courage to speak on those.

Second, I finally grew to be old enough to hope—nah, expect—that my wisdom will catch up with my chronological age. Proof positive! By chance, I encountered Hassan Piker and did not get arrested for aggravated assault. I elected to keep walking. Pleased for my mom’s nod of the head from her grave.

Looking in the mirror later, I remained unconvinced.

DEAD FISH

No self-respecting dead fish would willingly be wrapped in the New York Times.

How low can they go? Clearly deeper than the 236,000 feet the Challenger Deep, located in the southern end of the Mariana Trench in the western Pacific Ocean. One supposes we should be grateful they have not yet devoted investigative resources to writing garbage about the pregnancies of Usha Vance and Carolyne Levitt and Katie Miller.

But of course, the NYT carried on—conspiratorially and shamelessly—about the timing of their pregnancies and the clothes they wear. Rather than lauding Usha for her remarkably inexpensive choices. Notwithstanding her and JD Vance’s high net worth, to which she contributed handsomely from her high-paid job as a trial lawyer for one of the most prestigious law firms in the U.S.

CAITLIN CLARK

Another week. Another mugging of Caitlin Clark. The WNBA continues to mistake self-immolation for enlightened self-interest. Sanctimonious ingrates.

IN-PERSON BANKING AND UBER

Wow. Where have we come? Wonder if it is a temporary place or if we are still moving to the inevitable social media abyss.

Walking into a bank for a minor transaction. Happened to be driving by; could have done that online… I spied ten people who worked there. And one customer: me. Ten people greeted me with genuine appreciation and respect. Kudos to Deanna and her crew. But… For real? No more in-person banking?

Twice this week, I summoned an UBER. Heavens forbid: for an ordinary ride. I had the options to: request a female driver, select my wish to communicate with the driver (the lady or man who drives six to eight hour a day in awful L.A. traffic), pre-order the temperature I prefer (heaven forbid I elect to ask the driver to lower or increase the temperature some—that is a problem if I elected to not communicate with the driver). Finally, imagine the conflict of all of that with momentarily contemplating saying “thanks for the ride.” Or worse yet, “have a good day.”

Seriously?

LIVING ON FB

Nah… Leaving that beauty for next time.