First, on the emerging tolling heist.
Your Money's No Good Here
Jimmy Buffet's heading out to San Francisco. The white pants are being put away. Plaudits and platitudes about the heroism of the workplace echo throughout the land. It is Labor Day.
Here along one border within the nation, we are bowing to the supremacy of speed. We are allowing the bottom-line geeks who have somehow become transportation planners to determine that we need no hand-to-hand contact to float the Two Bridges Boondoggle. We shall, as those grandees determine, engage in the transportational equivalent of drone warfare. The over large Two Bridges plan has an over large price tag which must and will be funded by intermittent heists of the populace hereabouts. (Set aside for now that New Albany will bear the brunt of increased pass-through traffic of the cheapskates who don't want to pay an extra eight dollars to visit Aunt Ginny or buy something in Indiana.)
Second, on the absence of bread -- not dough, but the edible stuff. Actually this one might be resolved quite soon.
Waiting For Good Dough
Years passed in our little town aside the Ohio River. Years of decline layered upon years of decline. Even a few years of false starts passed in the same town, before they were layered over by more decline. During one of the false starts I remember watching an evening of mud wrestling--at the Grand. One of the young girls who maneuvered in the pit that night had to take her bows quickly, because she had to,"get showered, and shampooed, and get to work at The Dodge House", as the owner of the Grand, the emcee of the evening explained.