old bay

pile of fairfax, va. crabs, incredibly salty seasoning. yes yes. it's all right to eat the guts, isn't it?

interesting argument today at dulles, on the shuttle from my plane to the baggage claim.
septuagenarian, testy, not possessed of an "indoor voice": Who's Dulles anyway? What's his name?
murmured chorus: John Foster.
sept.: What about Ulysses Grant? What was his middle name?
me, unable to resist: It was actually Ulysses.
sept.: What? What? It was an S. Ulysses S. Grant. Simpson.
me (drawing from numerous visits to HUG's tomb): His name was Hiram Ulysses Grant, but he disliked his monogram. He thought it was foolish, so at West Point he fabricated the S.
sept: Simpson! It was Simpson!

no change to the wad, placid stomach. np, obivously, "going to maryland," tmg

and L... hopefully the next time I'm spinning you, you're wearing a morgane le fay and we're on someone's rooftop. the sooner the better.