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Tuesday, December 6, 2022
Editor’s NotebookEditor’s Notebook: Bye, bye, Miss American Pie

Editor’s Notebook: Bye, bye, Miss American Pie

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Welcome to the new economy: In the 30 days of September, my rainy-day fund tucked away in a Discover Bank online savings account gained roughly $70 (that 0.4-percent annual interest split across 12 months really, cough, adds up, doesn’t it?) while my 401(k) holdings dipped about $25,000 due to a skittish stock market.

But in the modern stagflationary era (which the economists tell us is just a passing fad, just like the public-health officials said about COVID), what really makes you stand up and take notice are the little things.

Take, for instance, the small little pies – apple, blueberry, cherry and pecan – that for years have been available at Giant supermarkets for a buck apiece. Sometime last week, that went up to $1.50.

Well, [bleeeeeep] that. Giant, I love ya, but I ain’t paying $1.50 for a teensy pie that’s gone in a heartbeat (except around my mid-section; it’ll stay there forever).


Judging from the increasingly wild-eyed-in-tone campaign mailers Democrats keep sending me (even though my vote has been locked and loaded for two weeks), the party in power seems to be getting even antsier than before that a combination of bad tidings is going to sink them in Virginia this fall. We’ll see; never underestimate the power of Republicans to find themselves with the political winds in their favor, only to still manage to sink their chances.

BEST THING SAID ABOUT ME ALL MONTH: At a recent Northern Virginia political shindig, a former elected official who shall go nameless ambled up, and after telling me I was wrong about something (we’ll agree to disagree on that), pointed out that he/she appreciated me sticking around as the capo di tutti i capi of the local press corps[e].

She mentioned another local outlet, and say “their people come and go every six months – you stick around and have been here long enough to know where all the bodies are buried.”

We’re talking figuratively, people, just figuratively. But the sentiment is appreciated nonetheless.

CLASSIC 1970s: Yours truly was just a little too young to have enjoyed the best parts of the 1970s (and somewhat envies those who were there …), and had I been of an age to go to concerts, one of those I would have made a bee-line was a lady mentioned in last Friday’s blog, Ms. Maxine Nightingale.

Since I didn’t have room for a link to one of her performances on Friday but do now, here you go. Although not in the 1970s (it’s somewhat later), she still wows the crowd and her voice is, if anything, better than earlier.

– Scott McCaffrey

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