Daily Briefs: A Hard Day’s Journey Into Night

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By CHRIS PACKHAM

Back in 2000 when I moved into the City Market, the electricity would go out for the whole neighborhood if a bird landed on a power line, or if you thought about birds landing on a power line. Thunderstorms were accompanied by the apocalyptic popcorn-like sound of transformers exploding up and down the length of Third Street. It’s a lot better now, and they’ve even surrounded the transformer yard with an artsy, illuminated wall thing. But I couldn’t help thinking about all those exploding transformers while I was reading this econocalyptic Bloomberg article about the auto industry, what with the accompanying loud explosions of various industries popping like zits on your girlfriend’s back, haha, I am the best at disgusting analogy. I enjoy the pleasing sensation of schadenfreude the same way I enjoy boners and ice cream, but the satisfaction of watching General Motors collapse would also entail as many as one million lost jobs. WHOOPS, where did I leave that industrial base I used to have? It was right here in my fanny pack when I left the Pamida.

After the jump, some mean stuff about a beloved pop-group. Click here, or on the wondrous majesty of the American West:

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