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Was the Chancellor feisty? Subdued? Did he wear a "swami" headdress? Did he dance? (See our previous Everyone forgets.)
Did the audience chant, "Four more years!"?
Did Andreea describe her visit to Dracula's castle? Did she spurt some of that fake blood she bought at the gift shop?
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Let us know. Plus: welcome back!
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LEFTOVERS
Some "leftovers" from yesterday (click on images to make them LARGER):
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The Cliff House is much bigger than you'd think, just driving by. Tourists were crowded inside, eating dinner. They stared down at me. I was alone, amongst the slabs and vistas and open sky, feeling like James Dean at Griffith Observatory. Cheesy movie suspense music played in my head. I dashed, I darted, I sported a troubled look.
No punks showed up, though.
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There were some surfers near the Cliff House, bobbing in the smallish, gentle surf. They must be nuts. Or maybe they know something?
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Driving is way nuts in San Francisco, man. Pedestrians are either fearless or crazy or both. Traffic lights seem positioned in order to not be seen. Bus drivers are surprisingly assertive.
But it all seems to work somehow.
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Think I'll go try to find that spot where Jimmy Stewart fished Kim Novak out of the bay. You know, like Pee-Wee Herman looking for the basement of the Alamo. Very touristy.