Over the weekend, I went to the movies with an old friend, a new friend, and a medium friend. I think we saw Fantastic Four, but it’s hard to recall. It wasn’t dull exactly—I can picture explosions and so forth—but it was somewhat less than the sum of its parts. There was a cute guy in tights, and maybe that will have to be enough.

Afterward, we were led by some primitive compulsion into a store called Tuesday Morning. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it; I only have because Rob was obsessed with the idea of it a couple of years ago and dragged me there once. Tuesday Morning is not a point in time but rather a tragic assortment of worthless crap foisted on an uncaring world, the dark underbelly of an intensely wasteful culture.

Then I went home.