Ours did too. The little diner in one end of the store gave way to a Little Caesar's and it was just kind of sad.

I have fun with the cashiers at the Kroger stores in SC and Georgia by whipping out my Fred Meyer Rewards card when they ask if I have a Kroger rewards card…they're skeptical, only to see the thing works (and gets me the gas discount, too!).

Wow, the follow-up to Good Night, and Good Luck focusing not on Ed Murrow's See It Now work, but the Friday night toss-softballs-to-celebrities program that made him and his associates a lot of money.

A few years back during the May run-up to the 500 some of the TV coverage had a feature about the tenderloin's status among concessions at the race. I have to confess this vegetarian gearhead came close to craving one during that little story.

Arnold Stang.

"I do not want to go through four or five years of litigation in which they call friends in and sources and put you through the mill…so I'm going to call the National Enquirer and the people who wrote this 'liars.' Now that's slander, or they can sue me for slander. You know where I am, gentlemen." - Johnny Carson,…

(reads comment as individual letters suspended from ceiling in a colorful pattern)

By the time I was really aware of the world around me the 1976 Olympics were about a year in the books, so as a kid I knew of Jenner not so much as an athlete, but as the spokesperson for Wheaties (and the face on the Wheaties box forever) and as a commentator on ABC Sports programs.

It's not widely known, but the winner of the Indianapolis 500 is shrunken down and placed inside the Borg-Warner Trophy. The little sculpted faces of the winners on the trophy are actually their imprisoned souls screaming in eternal agony.

A couple years ago I transferred a bunch of VHS tapes to DVD, and for some reason I had the idea of taping the first several weeks of The Tonight Show with Jay Leno in 1992. Which means, among other oddities, I have a Tonight Show where the guest lineup is Dinah Manoff, Tommy Tune, and Irving R. Levine. The moment…

Too bad things didn't work out for Gilooly-Os.

I'm nominally Methodist (though my Christianity has become more free-range) and I married an agnostic. We respect each other's belief systems. It can work fine.

I once had somebody try to get me into a three-way with some OpenOffice document.

Whenever I have to be at a party is when I try to follow David Brlnkley's advice, dispensed in the 1950s, for handling Washington cocktail parties: come in the front door, accept the proffered drink as you come in, and then, without stopping, make your way through the assemblage and smile and say hello to everyone.…

One-on-one I'm fine. It's when a third party comes along, who will inevitably engage my conversation partner in some side conversation that then takes over, that I begin to hunt for some need to mosey along to my next obligation or otherwise gracefully exit.

I have always been myself because every attempt I've made to be someone I'm not failed quickly. Among other reasons, my "tells" are too obvious, and my conscience turns on the "God is watching you, buddy" thing, and my efforts fold faster than Superman on laundry day. My inability to be anyone else has cost me a…

Oh, yeah. Sekulow's been on my radar since the '90s when Pat Robertson would have him on The 700 Club to talk about whatever latest crusade was about to be waged against Godless Liberalism (tm).

"Son, I'm not not licking toads."

That was…well done.

At least from my viewing, I thought the National Suicide Prevention Hotline card at the end took away any ambiguity, too.