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Fred's avatar

Oy, the treacherous "Independence" weekend! Our sweet dog, Daphne, suffers even from one not-too-loud blast, so we drug her with Trazadone supplied by our vet. It only mildly calms the panting and creates restlessness. She was quite hung over yesterday, but the havoc is over for another year. In other words, Clint, I feel you. ALSO: Thank you for the lovely Cukor tribute, my fave classic Hollywood director whose Sunday salons and hubba-hubba all-male afterparties were legendary. I got to meet him once in the early '80s, and it's quite true that one shouldn't meet one's heroes. This was at a master class at NYU he led for the grad acting and film students. Dapper, he clearly enjoyed working with some of the handsome young men, but such a short-fused temper! (Perhaps that ties in with the noise of the weekend?) Hugs to you, Clint!

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Keith Aron's avatar

Relating to this hardcore, Clint. There is a big, mostly vacant parking lot behind my building, and there was an unofficial fireworks extravaganza that went on forever on the 4th, with both pre-game poppers on the 3rd and random reverb on the 5th. So much smoke, so much noise, so much nervous system dysregulation. And, I'm guessing, so much disruption to wildlife habitats in this area. What a weird way to celebrate, for so many reasons.

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