Years ago, I knew someone who kept an autographed picture of Rudy Giuliani on his desk. I wonder if he still does. I wonder if anyone does.

The sign said that it was the city’s “only outdoor rooftop skating rink.” I saw a place to rent skates but no one to answer my myriad questions. For example: If a rink is on the “roof,” but the rink is not outdoors, isn’t there a roof on the rink and, therefore, it is not an outdoor rink? And shouldn’t there be a comma between “outdoor” and “rooftop”? And so many more.

My sources have told me that President Donald Trump courageously stood up to the Russian in his oft-discussed meeting with Vladimir Putin—Trump would absolutely, positively not have borscht for lunch, or at any other time.

“Why would Donald Trump, who prides himself on his good taste, fall in love with Donald Trump?” Edward Sorel, Mary Astor’s Purple Diary: The Great American Sex Scandal of 1936.

I try to be good because I believe that if I go to hell, I will be trapped on a stalled elevator with a banjo player.

Anne, a public defender, and I were chatting as she drove us to a lunch with other public defenders. After a while, I asked what her husband did, and she replied, “Construction,” but after a brief pause, she said that he had been a teacher and the head football coach at a local high school. Two years ago, she continued, he was in a traffic accident, and a friend, not wearing a seatbelt, was thrown out of the truck and killed. She said that her husband could not concentrate on his work and quit, but then she told me more. Her husband was charged with drunken driving and vehicular homicide. His brother, who had also been in the car, refused to testify at her husband’s trial and was jailed for contempt. Her husband was convicted and was out on bail while the case was being appealed. Probably because he was a school teacher and football coach, the book had been thrown at him. He got a ten-year sentence. I asked Anne if she had children. She said no, but they tried a few years ago when Anne had two miscarriages. Anne looked at me, smiled, and said that she and her husband had concluded that now was not a good time to try again.

“A man may live like a fool for a year, and become wise in a day.” John Williams, Augustus.

When you see bikers with the big arms and leather vests on one of those three-wheelers, do you think, “Cool,” or are you a little sad?