I would like to extend a warm thank you to my father, who recently pointed out that Gene Wilder, is not, in fact, dead as is clearly evidenced by this web source. Of course, it speaks nothing of the terrible fire that took Patrick Swayze last November. The International Fan Club community is still in mourning.

But back to Wilder. Last night Michelle and Mary and I packed up our blankets and joined a mass of children and their families at last night’s WBZ’s Free Friday Flicks shown at the Hatch Shell to see the original in an attempt to wash away the pain caused by Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. Ed Carroll promised the rain was far away in the Berkshires. But even dynamic meteorology can be wrong sometimes. They shut down the production just before Mike got shrunk on WonkaVision. Things could be worse.

And they were. Earlier, but not too much earlier, I had gone swimming which whetted my appetite. Not wanting to miss the movie, I didn’t have time to fetch dinner proper. Instead, I downed a bag of praline granola from Trader Joe’s. That’s right, all ten servings at 210 calories each. To wash it down, and to keep hydrated — as it is so important during these summer months — I finished the better part of a gallon of water. The resultant slush weighed down my stomach. But I am an athlete. So I rallied through and finished a BLT and a serving of putine at the South Sreet Dinner. By this time, Michelle’s stomach had given out and we had to go home. Maybe now she’ll have to see a neurologist.

Smiling Mighty Jesus can get even the best of us sometimes. That’s why they vaccinate so heavily, you know.