Friday Odds & Sods Know What You Did Last Summer

The gears of Justice continue their steady grinding, although thankfully I've been given a brief reprieve until Tuesday for Columbus Day, a celebration of the explorer's stubborn refusal to admit his twin failures in mathematical computation and geographical nomenclature.  As a sworn servant of the Court, I will not in any official capacity comment on the justice of celebrating this particular holiday in this venue, leaving those thoughts for another time.  Anyways, enough with the chatter and down to the good stuff.  

• Science has discovered the apartment in Manhattan that is farthest away from a subway station, and it can be yours, for the low, low price of 3,750,000 dollars.
• Is there anything better than coming home on a Friday night (or Saturday morning) to a recording of T.S. Eliot reading The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock?  Undoubtedly, but you can keep whatever these pleasures might be to yourselves for the nonce.  
• Continuing on a poetomystical note, while it might not be mermaids singing each to each, this article explores the literary genre of near-death journeys to the Great Beyond (and gives equal credit to the true believers and the hucksters making money off them)
• Finally, this weeks remedy, the Metropole Cocktail: Take 1/2 teaspoon syrup, two dashes Peychaud's Bitters, 2 oz VSOP cognac, 1 oz dry vermouth, mix with ice, stir.  Drain, and serve with maraschino cherry.