BJ is on the couch here in Ptown and he reads aloud the following:
She died the year after her arrest in a badly lit jail cell.
"Yeech. There is no amount of punctuation that can save that sentence."
We make the grand promenade down Commercial. Nothing much has changed. Stopped to chat with many old friends. More tomorrow. Meanwhile, here is my traveling companion priming his pump and chatting up a potential vacation fling: