Something smells

 

Proof I watch way too much TV:

Elelventy-seventy commercials lately for body deodorants, for male and for female. And not just for armpits, as indicated by rhyming replacements for anatomical labels. I sense a sign of the times, with everybody twisted into knots by inflation, hurricanes, wildfires, death threats against FEMA workers, DJT's dubious dancing. And a thousand other conditions. Stinky feet might be the only thing somebody can control in their life.

Ad for Domino’s pizza shows people rushing out to get a special low price, while the words/graphic at left says “online only.” Bursting out of your bath while covered in soap won’t get you the deal, dumb ass. And your phone won't float, either.

Beards are everywhere. I know it is a style that will pass, but jeez I hate beards. What’s the man hiding? My attitude might be genetic: The time my father came home from a month on a fishing boat with full beard and shaggy hair, his mother refused to recognize him or let him in her house. “I don’t take in hobos,” he said she said. He had to go to his brother’s and clean up. Then she welcomed him in with open arms, tears of joy and all that.

Local PBS station is running, for the umpteenth time, “Broadchurch” from 2013. The episode that caught my attention had four “Doctor Who” actors: David Tennant and future TARDIS travelers David Bradley, Arthur Darvill and Jodie Whittaker.

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