Department Of It’s About Fucking Time 
“…the #MeToo movement represented the ‘fastest-moving social change we’ve seen in decades, and it began with individual acts of courage by women and some men too.’ ”
(Time Magazine’s Editor-in Chief Edward Felsenthal, from in the NY Times article,
” ‘The Silence Breakers’ Named Time’s Person of the Year for 2017″)
About That Red-Circled Elbow
Along with the prominent women in the MeToo movement featured on the Time magazine cover, there is a woman whose face is obscured – as in, off camera. Only her right arm is visible. This a hospital worker Time magazine reporters spoke with, a woman “from the middle of the country, who doesn’t feel that she can come forward without threatening her livelihood,” Editor Felsenthal said. The image is intended to symbolize women and men who have yet to come forward, or who wish to speak out but fear repercussions.
In an interview, Time National Correspondent Charlotte Alter said the inclusion of the elbow (only) image was deliberate:
“…a huge part of this story we’re trying to tell here is that as much as the stigma around this has been removed this year because of the ‘Me Too’ movement, it’s still really difficult for a lot of people to come forward.”
* * *
Department Of Yet Another Blast From The Past
AKA, An Incident I Haven’t Thought About In A Long Time
Specifically, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man ® .
Dateline: one afternoon, a long time ago in a galaxy at a university far, far away ( UC Davis. ) I was on campus; my first morning class had let out and I had three or so hours before my next class’s midterm exam. Instead of returning to my (off-campus) apartment for lunch I decided to splurge  and get a sandwich from the campus Coffee House and do my last minute studying the the exam on the campus Quad. ‘Twas a glorious spring day; I could have easily spent several hours happily parked by a mini grove of fir trees on the acres of green grass, along with other students studying, eating, napping, or tossing a Frisbee back and forth…
…but after about 45 minutes I had to move as I just couldn’t take it any more.
What had begun as a curiosity – what I thought at first was perhaps a stunt or prank – morphed from snarky entertainment into torture by seemingly infinite repetition.
A young man with curly, shoulder-length brown hair was riding a balloon-tire beach bicycle back and forth across the quad length, from north to south and then east to west, all the while singing the Gordon Lightfoot song, If You Could Read My Mind. He didn’t sing the entire song, only a portion of it: 
I never knew I feel this way
And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it
I don’t know where we went wrong
But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back
That’s it. Thirty-six words, which he kept repeating singing. Over and over. And over.
It was… fascinating, at first. But ultimately tedious. After about fifteen minutes, Crazy Bicycle-Riding Man’s path took him within a few feet of me and I caught a glimpse of his glassy blue eyes and realized, He is going to keep doing this until he either passes out or someone makes him stop. I felt a brief twinge of sorrow for the guy’s obvious…disturbance. But whether or not the man’s break from reality was drug-induced or the result of a mental health crisis, I (like the other students I saw leaving the Quad in droves) was young and impatient, and my sympathy eventually dissolved into annoyance. I lasted another half hour before I gave up and took my books to the library to finish studying.
After all these years, I remember what Crazy Bicycle Riding Man was singing but haven’t a clue as to how I did on the midterm for which I was studying. Which is perhaps the healthiest way to pass through this world, n’est ce pas? 
* * *
Department Of In The Running For My Favorite Headline Of The Year: 
Acting Studios Are Struggling. Does It Matter?
( NY Times, 12-1-17)
* * *
Department Of There Should Be Some Kind Of Holiday Thing Here
I don’t know about y’all, but moiself is having a hard time getting excited – or even interested – in the holidays this year. If a Crazy Bicycle-Riding Santa ® would make an appearance, that might do it for me. I may just have to settle for the Speedo Santa Run.
* * *
May you be a Silence Breaker, or an ally to one;
May you enjoy the sporadic Blast From Your Past ® memory;
May you summon a modicum of excitement about any holidays you celebrate;
…and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
* * *
 Time as in time…not as in Time Magazine…. There should be some kind of really bad pun apology here.
 Working at the school library to put myself through school, any non-home procured food – even a simple sandwich – was (or felt like) a splurge.
 The chorus? Verse? Bridge? Root canal? Help me out, musically literate people.
 Not to show off in front of Gallic illiterates, but n’est ce pas? is French for, “The birdhouse smells like stinky feet, does it not?”
 Other than the one about Time Magazine’s Person of the Year.