Lunch, Postman, and Drones

Pleasant day.  Aline and I met Betty at The Spot, a small restaurant on Tilton Road.  Good lunch of split pea soup and salad, much more homemade-y than at the joints we usually frequent.
Betty had bought a chest of drawers and a sofa at the thrift store nearby and we went a few doors down to see it.  I remembered that Betty had mentioned how narrow the stairs are at the Coffin Alley apartment where she'll be living and asked if she had measured it.
Why no-o-o. So she measured it and will it fit?
No to that, too.  Luckily, they agreed to give her back the fifty bucks she had paid for it.
We parted and A. and I went to Produce Junction, where I bought broccoli, lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, and acorn squash.  On the way home, stopped at Santori's for butternut squash, then at Acme for Brussels sprouts and--I hate to admit it--moose tracks frozen yogurt.
Dropped A. off and got home after a good day, albeit in cold, dark, cloudy weather.  Good grief, it'll be May tomorrow and where is the spring weather?
WIDER: I'm re-reading Neil Postman's Amusing Ourselves To Death, written almost thirty years ago about what television does to thought, culture, and particularly, to the democratic process.  It's so prescient, it's chilling and the worse thing about it is, its negative influence is so persuasive that it's no longer a subject for debate or to my knowledge, even consideration.  Postman, whom I met when he spoke at Rider a few years before his death, believed that Huxley, rather more than Orwell, was the prophet of the future; hence, his title.  I think he makes a strong case for that premise.     
WIDER STILL:  The monsters walk among us:
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/apr/28/drone-civilian-casualties-senate-bill-feinstein-clapper