Trefology

X marks the spot where I buried my xylophone Y marks the spot where I questioned my reason for being Z marks the spot where I took a nap. And XYZ marks the spot where my friend told me my zipper was down.

Bring back overcranked and undercranked comedy gags!

Twenty-eight years ago, the world lost Frank Sinatra, and I lost my dad. I don’t think I’ll ever fully get over the loss of him, or the fact that my siblings and I were disregarded and not given a chance to say goodbye. My father was one of the most extraordinary men I ever had the privilege to know. What an incredible life he lived, and what a remarkable legacy he left behind. On this sad anniversary, I find myself thinking about all he accomplished, the joy he brought to so many people, and the love he gave to those closest to him. The world could certainly use his warmth, kindness, grace, and wonderful sense of humor today. He had a way of making people feel special, whether it was one person sitting beside him or on stage in front of thousands. What I regret most is that his great-grandchildren never got the chance to know him. Oh! How they would have loved each other. Twenty-eight years later, the world still sings along with him. Young people continue discovering him for the first time, while those who loved him from the beginning still treasure the man and his music. His music is special because it came from somewhere real, and because he meant every word he sang. He left behind a body of work that continues to bring people comfort, joy, romance, and strength. Dad was always concerned that his work would be forgotten, so he would be absolutely thrilled to know that his legacy lives on across generations, not only through his music, but in the hearts and on the playlists of millions of people around the world.   Frank Sinatra is eternal. And I still miss my Daddy. I love you, Poppa.

Please pray for the repose of the soul of Sister Nadir, a young Carmelite nun who tragically drowned yesterday in the sea while heroically trying to save her sisters from the waves. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” John 15:13

Just finished the War of the Worlds radio broadcast and I don’t blame ANY of those people in 1938 for thinking it was real 😳

Joseph Mugnaini’s 1955 cover art for 'The October Country,' a story collection by Ray Bradbury.

Harry Sternberg, Steel Town, 1938

My dad took me to see Capricorn One when I was only 6, and three things burned into my brain: Jerry Goldsmith’s score, James Brolin eating a raw snake, and Elliot Gould in this manic, scramble to stop a car without brakes. Rewatched years later and appreciated the rest.

@olbigjim Me, for one.

Who are some underrated people in history? alalhmody.wordpress.com/2026/05/13/who…

The Man Who Could Only Live for 1.6 Seconds. On May 31, 1926, a 24-year-old blast furnace repairman named Franz Breundl inhaled carbon monoxide at Gelsenkirchen's Schalker Verein steelworks. When he came to, he was fully intact, same man, same memories, same personality. But his brain had quietly stopped recording anything new. German neuropsychologist Gustav Störring studied him for years, documenting the deficit with a stopwatch: Breundl could hold nothing in consciousness for longer than approximately 1.6 seconds. Ask a question that took more than a heartbeat to complete, and the beginning was already gone before the end arrived. Störring described his memory as "a wax tablet that has immediately become rock hard, upon which old marks remain legible, but upon which no new impression leaves a record." Yet Breundl kept living. He married a woman named Anni. He went hiking with Störring. He drank beer at local taverns. His entire pre-1926 life remained perfectly preserved, he knew his wife, his city, his politics, but every new day was identical to the last: the first day since the accident. In 1935, Störring filmed him at UFA studios. When asked about communists in Gelsenkirchen, Breundl answered with the full passion of a 1920s steel worker, a young man from the Weimar Republic, still showing up for duty inside a 50-year-old body. The case sparked what neurologist Oliver Zangwill called "a controversy almost without parallel in the annals of psychiatry" about memory, identity, and what makes a person continuous through time. Franz Breundl died on August 30, 1986, aged 84. He had spent sixty years as what Störring called "an absolute man of the present." Whether the man who died was still Franz Breundl depends entirely on what you think a person actually is.

hello everyone! an small development - today i emailed the cemetery where she is buried and inquired about the steps to possibly holding a fundraiser to get her a marker. i will update when i can!

Just months before Hunter S. Thompson committed suicide, he instructed his wife, Anita, to ship his red IBM Selectric II portable typewriter to Bob Dylan. She balked: It was too precious to send away willy-nilly. But when Hunter died, she reconsidered. “He still has the harmonica you gave him that day in his drawer,” Anita wrote to Dylan. “In return, he wanted you to have his red Ibm Selectric II typewriter. He started a letter to accompany it on a few occasions, but got distracted by various deadlines, and didn’t want to send you a distracted letter. So anyway, here it is, and I am sorry the letter has to be from me, but it is important to him that you have the typewriter and use it for Chronicles. (I guess it would be Chronicles II now, right?)”

I love this song. Kate Bollinger "I Found Out" youtu.be/2NIC1LAvTm4?si… via @YouTube

By illustrator Brad Sneed.

Beautiful Brian Wilson illustration by @bilbo_swwaggins

By Vladimir Chebakov.

Insomnia by Zhiyong Jing

If you were a film buff who watched talk shows in the late 60s/early 70s (I watched all of them) Rex Reed was a frequent and interesting guest. Very snarky, except in those days they called it bitchy. Rest In Peace.

Ladies and Gentlemen, here’s the absolute greatest crossover in television history!

I read this book so many time as a kid that it fell apart.