As in reports of record bankruptcies, can we say this is the largest e-mail bankruptcy filing ever? Sure, I've got my Web feedback form text from last spring around here somewhere. Not impressive, Virgin. Love your planes, but can it be this hard to check on an old mileage issue?

Dear Patrick,

Thank you for taking the time to write to us. We understand you sent an email awhile ago about our Elevate program and would like to apologize for not getting back to you in a timely manner.

We've been undergoing a rigorous internal system update in an effort to improve our process flows for both our agents and our guests. Unfortunately, we have experienced some minor technical difficulties in getting back to everyone while we work the kinks out. If you had a general question, you may want to check out our FAQ page, just type in "points" in the keyword search and you'll find a ton of helpful information. If you are waiting for points to be added to your Elevate account, please keep in mind it may take up to 2 weeks for your points to reflect on your account. If you are still experiencing difficulty, please resubmit your feedback through our Contact Us Page at http://www.virginamerica.com/va/contactUs.do or give us a call at 1.877.FLY.VIRGIN.

Virgin America Team

Mirabell Palace didn't do much for me the first time we saw it. The Do-Re-Mi fountain and plenty of gardens. But a week later, we wandered back to kill time. It was Sunday morning, and we found an orchestra.

Crowds gathered under the trees. Gardens? What gardens?

The Salzburg seniors, they loved it. And I loved them.

The orchestra was motley. I bet it liked the challenge to play loud.

And that is good. Thanks to everyone writing last night who shared my concern and hope, I appreciated it. As we await change, we start the week fresh and remember we live in a pizookie world. "The benefits clearly outweigh the costs (finances, labor, etc.) in pizookification."

I'm increasingly struggling this summer to understand what's valuable for me to do. With work, top-down is more obscured than it's been in years. People ask me like I know, and I don't have answers, only a few warnings. With life, there are always so many things to do, but where is momentum? Projection on both fronts seems important and useless.

Back home now I guess, the void is hitting harder. Captured memories of the trip are nice, but posting them these days feels fake. Cheerful but fake. The sentence I want to write next is "Work and life should resolve themselves eventually; they always do." But we know where that sentiment falls. "Eventually" is wreckless abuse of the future.

I need legitimate hope. Where I get consolation today is a story on forms and improvisation… Classical advocates of the practice believe that it is not only historically valid but intellectually enlivening. For a recent paper in NeuroImage, Aaron Berkowitz and Daniel Ansari studied what happens cognitively when someone improvises; they observed increased activity in two zones of the brain, one connected to decision-making and the other to language. Even if a soloist extemporizes for only a minute, the remainder of the performance may gain something intangible.

In a terrific mood in late June, I went out of my mind and said Denzel's performance in the remake of Taking of Pelham 123 saved the movie. Upon seeing the original this weekend, I have to say the remake was awful and I'd never watch it again. The original, though, is fantastic.

Walter Matthau as the transit cop star: "Somebody down there knows how to drive a train. You don't pick that up watching Sesame Street."

And Jerry Stiller, as a buddy on the force: "We had a bomb scare in the Bronx yesterday, but it turned out to be a cantaloupe." Later, familiar actor Dick O'Neill, as a train router: "Screw the goddamn passengers! What the hell did they expect for their lousy 35 cents, to live forever?"

The best scenes were dirty, dark and had 1974 written all over them. The line electrical supervisor I didn't know: "Oh, come on. If I've got to watch my language just because they let a few broads in, I'm going to quit. How the hell can you run a goddamn railroad without swearing?"

Sure, the moviemakers didn't know what to do with their ending (well, the first of two endings), but with all these people around plus Robert Shaw, Hector Elizondo, Wilson from Home Improvement, Howard Simon from All the President's Men (at right), the baby-faced dad of Matthew Broderick, and a glimpse of Doris Roberts, what more can you ask for?

The passengers. NYC subway riders held hostage, Ebert knocked the remake for their blandness. Back in '74, he had gotten it exactly right on the original's — "the passengers may have been cast according to their stereotyped titles, but in the movie they're just a carful of scared people." Yes, The Maid, The Mother, The Older Son, The Younger Son, The Homosexual, The Secretary, The Delivery Boy, The Salesman, The Hooker, The Old Man, The Spanish Woman, The Alcoholic, The Pimp, Co-ed #1, Co-ed #2, The Hippie, and The WASP — all damn good.

What if linguistics software wrote a David Bowie song? One prof takes a shot at it — and performs the result with acoustic guitar on YouTube.

Viewers give the prof crap, but I'd love to hear where the man himself would take things in the studio. Sweet faith / Secure in the affection of a better boy / Feeling admiration / A cheerful kiss, kiss the phone / Truth wins "“ an adult love to win awards / Team, meet girls; girls, meet team.

The prof also runs TheGospelAccordingtoDavidBowie.com. Awesome. He also has DoctorNick.org, meshing psych research and songwriting. Lastly, a MySpace page. (Original link via The Morning News feed.)

Couple weds after meeting on Sun-Times columnist's Facebook page. He lives in Chicago. She lives in Norway. To get appropriate docs and because she loves the movie, she got herself baptized at the Blues Brothers church. The columnist is Neil Steinberg. He helped them get married on the crazy new glass ledge in the Willis (nee Sears) Tower.

That's the question all young professional journalists should be asking themselves today. At 26, Lester's the new managing editor of The New Yorker. She succeeds a woman who's about 30. Remnick's magazine is already my favorite, as you know, and is now even more so. But along with Washingtonian naming 28-year-old Garrett Graff editor in chief, the news should make other young journalists question their own leaders.

If powers-that-be have trouble hiring or promoting management under 35, what's wrong with them? Have you subordinated yourself to legacy without realizing, and have you underestimated your potential to lead?

Readers, I give you still images here. But that's my question for Jessica Roberts, who has the Salzburg rap video. The scene: At the Augustiner brewery, Moses and I went to get our refills. When we returned, there were four Austrians at our table, who only loosely knew each other but shared a newfound love of our lady colleagues. Friendly, the Austrians began rapping. I cannot emphasize this fact enough. There was even beatboxing. And Jessica has the video. I post these pictures as a plea.

Jenaya, Moses and their new Austrian best friend want to see the rap.

My new Simpsons-loving Austrian best friend and I want to see it.

Maegan and your new Austrian beatboxing best friend want to see it.

The full beergarden crowd, full of new best friends, wants… to see it.

Jessica, amid your travels, America wants this video.