Entry 13:

Received Wednesday evening:

Missed the news. Any ashes sighted? A ballet ticket fell into my hands. Real dancers, real music, real bodies flying through the air. What grace! What muscles! What won't they think of next?

As a result, I am totally out of it newswise; instead, a brief reprise of the week's unanswered questions.

On fatuous movies: I tried to segue from fatuous movies to junk movies, but perhaps that was too careless. Dances With Wolves and The Blues Brothers are far from being in the same category. So yes, more refinement needed.

And exactly how many points did Hans Kung make? Seven would have been enough. Did he stretch for twelve?

As it happens, I once read the Morbidity and Mortality Report weekly. A different life, a different day job. I left the "Men's Health" section for my significant other, who mysteriously announced this afternoon, "Time for a checkup, honey." But he doesn't work with prairie dogs--so no rush.

And finally, it can now be revealed: Prince Valiant was my favorite. My father allowed the Chicago Tribune into our house on Sundays just so I could read the strip.

There you have it.

Feeling flighty.