HiddenEntries (A Wholly Owned Cynthia Publishing Company Subsidiary Blog)

Hail to Tiztastic, your 2025 Louisiana Derby champeen!

Value is where you find it!

Sorry for the long delay today — the 18-year-old water-heater decided to call time on its durable, dependable career to the household laundry & bathing needs of the Home Office here in Upper Nichols Canyon, Los Angeles, Southern California, U.S.A. It was an old General Electric that came with a 12-year guarantee, so it outperformed expectations by 150 percent. Vale!

A nice outcome in this afternoon’s final Tampa Bay Downs race. Hit it!

Purportedly this here Web log is about Thoroughbred horseracing, so we are generally pleased & delighted to be able to bring you this slice-of-life photo gallery from Chas. Town, W. Va., courtesy of our on-site correspondent, Ned Reldem, Esq. Gritty realism!

As we do every year on March 17, we remember the events of this date on 1988.

We’ve written about it before, so the stories are the same, give or take a few words, but the events are real, though they seem straight out of some kind of long-winding Irish tale of walking & happenstance on the course of a single day, again in 1988.

Casca says, ‘Speak, hands, for me!’ Brutus says, ‘Ambition’s debt is paid!’ Why commit to memory all the long & famous speeches when these one-liners literally & figuratively cut to the point all the violence & motive of the conspirators. Leave the flowery utterances to the romantics! Hail!

Been pretty gray & rainy out here the last two weeks or so; the weekends have been literal & figurative bright spots, but not much tennis going on in this part of the universe. Maybe tomorrow!

Been a while since we looked-in on your No. London Arse, who have been bit hard by the injury bug, with zero recognized strikers available for selection over the past month or so, and without any hope for recovery any time soon. Think of your La-La Land Los Doyers being without Shohei, Mookie & Freddie, and also without Wm. Smith & Edman, for good measure.

A Culture Vulture Evening last night in La-La Land. Unlike what was taking place at the same time 3,000 mi. eastward, there were no Robitussin-hued Coolidge-Hoover revanchists on this stage, and any use of ketamine here was pretty much accepted if not mandated, given the demands of the setting: appropriate high-energy melodic voice-projection, wild waving of arms & hands, exaggerated leg-kicks that were most definitely not meant to be interpreted as goose-stepping or some other type of ultra salute etc. In addition to being entertained & awed, we were amused, but not in that way where the dictator shrugs and implores, ‘Are you not amused!’ Every crowd reaction here was natural, genuine, organic, not performative.