I remember The Blob. It was 1958, so I was eight years old. I remember it started out blue and fairly small on a stick. But it turned red from the blood of its victims and grew enormous. Most of it was filmed in Phoenixville, PA, and the 25th annual Blobfest took place there on the weekend of July 12-14. How could I not have heard about these before? I really must be living under a rock.

The festival centers around the Colonial Theater where a key scene in the movie features terrified moviegoers fleeing the theater into the street to get away from the blob. The “run out” is a highlight of the festival, recreated by attendees twice.

Catherine Brodecki was a teenager when the Blob film crew came to town and she jumped at the chance to be an extra when she saw an ad in the local paper. You can see her fleeing the theater in the film. She’s 87 now and attended this year’s runout using a walker. Other highlights of the Blobfest include a showing of the film in the theater (voo den?), and a fire extinguisher parade. As you no doubt recall (I actually do), the only things that could stop the blob in the end were carbon dioxide fire extinguishers. Of course!

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Tired of the same old crappy wine and cheese parties? Jeez Louise — if I have to go to another one I’m going to shoot myself. Try something daring and different. Something bovine! Let us know how it goes!

(Phil sent in that photo from Hopewell, NJ.)

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This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Theodore Deppe, and it’s called “The Russian Greatcoat.”

While my children swim off the breakwater,
while my wife sleeps beside me in the sun,
I recall how you once said you knew
a sure way to paradise or hell.
Years ago, you stood on the Covington bridge,
demanded I throw my coat into the Ohio—
my five dollar “Russian greatcoat,”
my “Dostoevsky coat,” with no explanations,
simply because you asked.

From that height, the man-sized coat fell
in slow motion, floated briefly,
one sinking arm bent at the elbow.
At first, I evade the question when my wife asks
as if just thinking of you were an act of betrayal.
The cigarette I shared with you above the river.
Our entrance into the city, your thin black coat
around both our shoulders. Sometimes I can go
weeks without remembering.

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Owl Chatter’s crack investigative team was the first to discover that the Trump shooter was not trying to assassinate him! Our sources reveal that the shooter, Thomas Crooks, was actually aiming at Trump’s ear and had no intention of killing the former president. As the truth makes its way into the mainstream media, remember you heard it here first.

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Shaun Phillips was the NYTXW constructor today and he had a great clue for NUDIE at 49D. I know where you mind is headed, but the clue was “Fashion designer Cohn with an eponymous rhinestone-encrusted suit.”

Nuta Kotlyarenko was a Ukrainian-American tailor who designed decorative rhinestone-covered suits, known popularly as “Nudie Suits.” His professional name was Nudie Cohn.  Among his most famous creations was  Elvis’s $10,000 gold lamé suit worn by the singer on an album cover. Cohn’s customers included Elton John, John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, and Cher.

And here’s a nudie of Taylor Swift’s:

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Special thanks to Owl Chatter friends, Judy, Pam and Norrie for their good wishes. And to Riverdale Joe. See you tomorrow!

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