Historic purity

Visited Charleston recently. Spent two days in the historic district - my wife shopping, me - looking for a spray deodorant. No CVS, no Rite Aid, no Duane Reade. Nothing. In New York I am obsessed with the extraordinary number of these stores that open on every block. In historic Charleston they are serious about maintaining an historic atmosphere. But  no deodorant?

End. For now.

Another end of the world. Not another beginning. The END. This is serious. In the cards. Not to be missed. But just in case, pay your electric bill.

Going for the record

In a couple of minutes I will go underground. I better go to sleep and not watch the news. Will need to be rested tomorrow. It is now or never. Next year the taxes will be so much higher. I will get myself an accountant and become a job creator. Will create three jobs as a matter of fact. Yes, I will get myself three girlfriends. Including a fake blond. And a yacht, not a sailboat.  Will never take the subway again (at  rush hour).  Should I get a haircut? Go underground and resurface in a week with the winning power-ball ticket. It is not the  money I care for, but beating the record.