A number of you have asked how Bob Dylan was. Those who have seen him already know, because over a 60-plus-year career, one theme runs throughout: Bob does whatever Bob feels like doing. Also, Bob is now 83. He spent the show seated at his piano, never spoke to the crowd other than to introduce the band, and played about 85 minutes. The setlist was mostly from his most recent album, “Rough and Rowdy Ways,” although he took time to throw in “Desolation Row” and “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” The overall vibe was loping, twangy, Americana.

I’m glad I went, but if I had missed it, I wouldn’t have missed anything.

Then we were into the weekend and its many rewards. Eggs Benedict, warm temperatures, Easter. I hope yours was great.

There were no Hands Off demonstrations nearby, so I didn’t do that, but for those who did? Respect. Best sign:

Ha ha ha.

The news went by in a blur, of course. What a gang of morons. Between the oopsie Harvard letter and the oopsie another Signal group getting the top-secret military texts and oopsie Google Drive sharing, to that add the impossibly hamfisted attempt to brand the all-female space flight as “inspiring” and who knows, about a thousand more dumbass moves that probably escape notice in America’s hollowed-out newsrooms.

I mean, I get 10 NYT gift links a month, and the last one was my seventh. There are still 10 days left in April.

I’m going to do a partial screen capture of a photo in that same paper. It’s a story about Kash Patel and his jet-setting fabulous life on the public dime. Here’s a piece of a photo of the A-Team at a UFC fight:

First of all: UFC, gross, but OK whatever, no judgment. There’s Croaky and Mrs. Croaky, POTUS, Patel et al. What are they thinking? The only one with a glimmer of emotion on his face is Patel, and my thought bubble for him would be, if I were in that ring, I’d totally be winning, only far better-looking. Mrs. Croaky: I can’t believe the shit I have to go to just to make sure he’s not cheating. POTUS: Covfefe. Croaky: Mom and Aunt Jackie would have hated this, but the world has moved on.

Modern life is so exhausting.

And the week ahead promises to be the same.