Snippets . . . . Snippet It Real Good

A visual for your movie: In an urban mall outside the windows of a Marshall’s store containing mannequins adorned in fashionable, but reasonably priced, clothing are five teenage girls dressed in Orthodox Jewish attire chatting, smiling, even giggling, eating large Kosher dill pickles.

I asked the server in my local Biergarten what part of Germany she was from. She replied, “The best part. Austria.”

How would you react if you found out that Trump’s favorite novelist was Zadie Smith?

I wonder what Pat Paulsen would say today.  When he “ran” for President, he said, “I want to be elected by the people, for the people, and in spite of the people” . . .”Issues have no place in politics.  They only confuse matters.”. . . I wonder if he would still say, “The current system is rigged so that only the majority can seize control.”

A Sunday School teacher once said to me, “There are three main religions in this country: Christians, Jews, and Catholics.”

Thought experiment: Whom would you more likely vote against? Hillary Clinton or Bill Clinton? If it is not the same, does that indicate a bias against or for women?

In the world of Bob Ross, you were shown how to paint “happy little bushes,” spoken in an almost inaudible voice.  Nothing wrong with that, was there?

“I believe in children praying—well, women, too, but I rather think God expects men to be more self-reliant.” Joseph Conrad, Victory.

Outside Green-Wood. Flamingo Furniture. Full Serve. Marino’s Italian Ices (on the move).  Baked in Brooklyn (with one of the four greatest smells, baking bread). Club XStasy. Top Nest.  Weir Greenhouse Restoration. A National Landmark. Est. 1838. And no Starbucks.

What would you have wanted to ask the attractive, young Asian woman sitting on the subway in a going-to-the-office dress and sensible shoes reading Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer?

Would you want to bank at the place I saw recently where the clock above the entrance always reads 7:10?

In a trip to Montreal, I learned that it was a magnet for some. Thus, the young woman working in a souvenir shop was from Nova Scotia, and she had come to Montreal to learn French. In a restaurant, a young, rail-thin woman had come from France during the winter.  Even though she was from the Alps, she had found the Montreal winter remarkably cold in spite of its being mild by Quebec standards.  I asked her what she thought of how French was spoken in Montreal. After a thoughtful pause, she replied, “Interesting.”

Perhaps you know what I only recently learned outside the General Post Office: the ZIP in ZIP Code is an acronym for Zone Improvement Program.

I have never learned to open a bag of potato chips properly.