I have one social medium and I am glad it did not in fact dissolve itself into cheese holes. On the other side of this afternoon's adventures in DW, please accept some slightly disparate links.

1. rushthatspeaks is legally divorcing and in order to cover the lawyer's fees, since he is both disabled and out of work, has set up a GoFundMe. His further details are frank and lucid. If you can donate, please do. Funds are closing in on the three-quarter mark. That sixpence of Leo Marks' never goes out of style.

2. Not only was the energy yield of yesterday's meteor, at an equivalent of 300 tons of TNT, larger than the Halifax Explosion, as a three-foot meteor it was more efficient than actual TNT. No wonder mass drivers have been outlawed by every civilized planet.

3. I do not regret the rest of The Singing Word: 168 Years of Poetry from The Atlantic (2025), but I took it home from the Used Book Superstore for Jane Hirshfield's "For the Lichens" (2011).

4. While searching for other footage of seaplanes, I found the Supermarine S.6B winning the Schneider Trophy in 1931. I almost certainly learned about the development of racing seaplanes between the wars thanks to Leslie Howard's The First of the Few (1942).

5. Just last night I heard about the West End transfer of the Old Vic's Arcadia and I screamed through my keyboard because unless it does a National Theatre-style stream, I will never hear Oliver Chris shout that he has been fucked by a dahlia.

I haven't read a hardboiled yarn with its own Yiddish glossary since Leo Rosten's Silky! A Detective Story (1979) and since neither it nor its sequel King Silky! (1981) features sheydim, Andrew Hiller's Hornytown Chutzpah (2026) has the slight advantage along with the tikkun olam. I would cheerfully follow the further adventures of its wise guy and his demons through the suburb between Hell and D.C. I read the novella this evening in a medically recommended bath.