Bernie

Ocean bound again this weekend; another boat, another isolated locale, another beautiful moment where water is all you can see. Nantucket this time, where the population blooms from ten to one-hundred thousand as the east coasts richest flock to there summer beach houses. We spent a day on the beach battling waves from an off-shore storm; take the hit, curl up fetal, then try to bite down the all too rational bit of panic as you're whirled about and dashed against the rocky floor. If you stay under long enough, you'll end up back on the sand. At night we somehow secured an invite to the lavish 51st birthday party of a retired stock trader. We drank whiskey on the rocks, mingled with old men visibly concerned we might steal there wives, and old wives hoping they were right. I showed the DJ how to do his job and gave everybody a party like they haven't seen in decades. Given my condition, I can't even imagine how they felt this morning.

In other news, I hear that Farmer Jack went out of business. Farmer J was the only major grocery store willing show its face in Detroit and created a whole development of worthwhile real estate in the city. Every shop within a mile of the Jefferson Farmer Jack probably has a contingency in their contract requiring the presence of a major supermarket on the strip. So now one of the only centers of active growth in the downtown area has potentially reached a premature apex, and can be expected to begin its descent any day now. For the thousands of citizens that shopped there, just be glad the bus system is convenient, reliable and comprehensive.