If I were to ever move out there, growing up in Rhode Island would have at least prepared me for dark at 4:30.

A grande glass of Baker's prose will make *any* topic go down in a delightful way.

And this happens on, of all days, Indiana Statehood Day.

Now I’m suddenly curious as to whether the Giants have ever had a minor-league affiliate in Wyoming; the Cubs in New Mexico or Arkansas; or the Yankees in Nebraska (I know they’ve had a Single-A team in Tampa at their spring training park).

Your move, Coca-Cola.

The best of the rest: "subterranean suburban floor" (which caps a Section 2 that begins with three hefty scoops of fluid, substantive, nostalgic scene-setting); "a historic path of Los Angeles cement"; "cross-pollinating his movies..."; "comic dork bric-a-brac"; "townie-core twosome"; "legal eagles"

The runner-up for Section 1's *other* MVP (most valuable paragraph): "Mallrats was still brand-spanking-new, yet already it was old news, just another unwanted garment hanging limp on some dead mall clearance rack."

That's the section's closer and I'm *just* starting to read the rest of the piece.

Sure thing, Mary!