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The children’s book team of Jim and Kate McMullan of Sag Harbor has branched out with a pilot for an Amazon Original Series that can be seen for free at the website of the retailer turned budding network. Episode one of “The Stinky & Dirty Show,” based on the McMullans’ “I Stink” and “I’m Dirty” books, is a 12-minute excursion into a Utah-like desert landscape a la Chuck Jones’s immortal Road Runner and Coyote cartoons for Warner Brothers, where, as then, towering rock formations figure in the plot.
It wouldn’t be a Loudon Wainwright III album without a mix of exuberance and melancholy. In “Looking at the Calendar,” from his latest CD, “Haven’t Got the Blues (Yet),” the speaker throws up his hands and admits “there really is no day / That makes sense for us to end it, to throw it all away.”
It’s a breakup song with a sense of loss set to unusually (for the singer-songwriter) amplified, emphatic guitar, and Mr. Wainwright’s voice is at its full-throated best.
When Brandon Kennedy-Gay executed a beautiful head fake on his Amityville defender and slashed to the hoop for a layup late in the second quarter of Monday’s game here, three things happened: The Bonac faithful erupted, the loudest they’d be all night, the boys pulled to within 2 points, at 35-33, entering halftime, and expectations were defied, as they say, against a ball-hawking Warrior team ranked eighth in the state going into this young season.
The game was on.
It’s not every day that a single four-bedroom house will reflect the history of a village, especially not a village with as multifarious a background as Sag Harbor’s.
Yet consider the Hampton Street residence of Carl Hribar and Ki Hackney. For starters, there’s the best-guess date of its construction, 1790, when Sag Harbor was a bustling port and an important New York, well, almost-city.
If Ben Bradlee was the archetypal American newspaper editor — brash, gravelly voiced, profane, barrel-chested — he also happened to preside over his paper, The Washington Post, during a golden age of journalism, 1968 to 1991, when reporters’ work never mattered more.
Here’s a cat story that won’t make you groan. First of all, Rupert, in Jules Feiffer’s latest book for children, “Rupert Can Dance” (Michael di Capua, $17.95), isn’t what you’d call cute, more like an orange Yoda on all fours. And he doesn’t just lie around, he’s got a passion for strutting and prancing while his owner, little Mandy, sleeps. He even uses her dancing shoes.
All in the family, sort of, the Springs and Pushcart Press families: Linda Coleman, whose memoir, “Radical Descent,” is newly published by Pushcart, and Bill Henderson, the press’s founder, both of whom live in the hamlet, will join up for a two-for-one reading and book chat on Saturday at 1 p.m. at the East Hampton Library.