Big trees and dead Texans.

It’s been another quiet day at Howdygram headquarters, featuring naps, homemade tacos for lunch and a nice drive to Braum’s in Terrell for ice cream, which we ate in the cemetery across the street because when it’s 101° outside we’d rather park underneath big trees surrounded by dead Texans.

Breaking news! The Howdygram’s Fall Gefilte Fish Festival begins September 10, which (coincidentally) is also the same day my Manischewitz order from Amazon.com is scheduled to arrive. All are welcome to attend; advance reservations recommended. B.Y.O.H.*

*Bring your own horseradish. We’ll supply the napkins.

We watched a clunker of a movie last night on TCM. I was ready to delete it immediately after the opening credits but Sam urged me to keep watching for a while. Former silent screen star Richard Dix plays a sullen yet boring character named Earl Conrad in The Whistler (1944), a gritty film noir that starts with a decent idea for a story but gets loused up by stupid narration, too many dark alleys, an unseen (and unexplained) phantom whistling in the dark and plot twists that make no sense whatsoever. For instance, why would Earl decide to pay a hit man $10,000 to kill himself instead of just committing suicide like normal people? How did Earl’s wife end up in a Japanese prison camp? And, most importantly, why did Earl’s secretary have such fluffy hair? Holy crap.

I guess it’s time to think about dinner. Thank you for reading this.