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Let it be. Let it be!

Mickey D’s, beware. Burger King: abdicate. There’s gonna be a new kid on the block in Santa Cruz County. The only question remaining is where that block will be. Santa Cruz is the obvious first place contender for an In-n-Out Burger, but if childhood obesity rates are any indication, Watsonville is giving SC a run (OK, when you are obese that run becomes a leisurely stroll with frequent stops to catch your breath) for the money.

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Beards of Comedy Santa Cruz-Bound

Last autumn saw a resurgence of the beard across Northern California as thousands of fans, rallying to the “Fear the Beard” battle cry, fuzzed up in support of their beloved Giants and closing pitcher Brian Wilson. On Monday, the softer side of facial hair will be showcased as the “Beards of Comedy” tour minivan rolls into town for a show at Don Quixote’s.

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Confessions of A Bicycle Profiler

I hate editors’ confessionals. The manufactured vulnerability, the self-effacing humor, the tidy moral of the story—it’s cringe-inducing. But here I am, about to let one fly, because I have to fill this space and this episode has been bothering me since it happened, which was on New Year’s Day.

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The Exhibitionist: Art Class

An exquisite square of carnelian glass with many fused inclusions of brilliant color lived for a few days on a table beside the kiln, then exploded while it was being slumped (melted again into a shape) and now exists in jewel-like shards. The artist was stunned at first, then stoic. Then she began to think how to use the glittering remains.

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Running Meter: Ophiuchus

A bit of doggerel on last week’s astrological hiccup, which saw astrologers and astrology fans of all signs in an uproar following a comment by Minneapolis Planetarium Society member and astronomer Peter Kunkle. In an interview with the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, Kunkle said the Earth has shifted on its axis, with the result that there are now actually 13 astrological signs instead of 12.

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Jesse Scheinin’s Musical Mystery Tour

As I’m sitting in the Saturn Café talking to Jesse Scheinin, his eyes suddenly shoot upward, as if intercepting an invisible signal above us. I concentrate hard for a moment, trying to drown out the conversations around us and the clatter of dishes and silverware, and realize he has tuned in to the sound of Bon Iver’s “Lump Sum” drifting across the room from the jukebox.

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