A rabbit just sprinted through the cul-de-sac with a cat not far behind.

Looks like another one of those days.

Anybody else feel like that rabbit? Jaysis H., every time I looked over my shoulder yesterday there was some fresh slobbering nightmare gaining on me. Satchel Paige was right.

Aleksei Navalny. Fani Willis. Avdiivka. Brian Wilson.

At least it bounced Swaylor Tift off the front pages. For a while.

Not so that other newsmaker. I counted 14 stories mentioning his name (curse it, yes) on The New York Times homepage. True, a few were duplicates that appeared both high up and down low, in Opinion, Analysis, U.S. News, U.S. Politics, The Upshot, or In Case You Missed It (as if you could).

I will confess taking pleasure in reading about the steel-tied boot to the wallet pocket Judge Arthur F. Engoron gave him and his trouser-stains (*some extended appeals may apply).

“That’ll be $450 million, please. Will this be cash or charge? And did I mention that you can’t run so much as a hot-dog cart in Hell’s Kitchen for three years? Well, you can’t. Meanwhile, the vig’ will be $2.7 mil’ per month, and don’t make me come looking for you or we add a finger to the tab.”

I have absolutely zero faith that any of this shit will stick to him, of course. But I like to think that he finally caught a whiff of it while his orange blossomed into purple and he pitched ketchup bottles at his shysters. What I’d really like to see is him slipping in it as he tries to outrun a tremendously yuuuuuuuuge cat.