There's Truth in Advertising...

After my 75th nap of the week, I went staggering off to the neighborhood grocery store to get a bit of food (yogurt? no--they don't have my brand, haven't had it since yesterday) for the rest of the week (vegetables? Nix--Mondo expensivo and all from Chile), so I don't starve (shark-shaped fruit snacks? Check--and for only a dollar a box. I'll take two, thanks...). And as I near Hardees I see their improvised sign. On closer examination, the P was modified to be a B using sharpie pen, but that alteration all but vanishes once backlit. The wind has carried off the ending R, so what you have is a perfect description of Hardee's latest burger. I wonder how long it'll be before they notice. I ran home to get the camera so that all of my ones of blogreaders can enjoy the moment with me.

I am good for little else than reading and napping still; here's hoping I can scrape it together for the remainder of the week, as I have serious shizz to do. In the interim, I nap and try to make sense out of Gertrude Stein, who makes sense occasionally, then doesn't make sense at all, then comes up with a gem of a line. For example, one paragraph from the opening to Lucy Church Amiably:

This altogether makes a return to romantic nature that is it makes a landscape look like an engraving in which there are some people, after all if they are to be seen there they feel as pretty as they look and this makes it have a river a gorge an inundation and a remarkable meadowed mass which is whatever they use not to feed but to bed cows.

and a page later:

No history of a family to close with those and close. Never shall he be alone to be alone to be alone to be alone to them to lend a hand and leave it left and wasted.

But more of Stein at a later date.