Stare.
 
2001 Notebook: Weak IV
 
   
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22 January 2001
Reading the Coffee Grounds
The chief waste disposal technician here at the laboratory recently sent me an illustrated memo documenting “a clog in the drain the size of a healthy weasel.” The technician reported that he had analyzed core samples and found the clog was largely comprised of coffee grounds. He concluded by “respectfully recommending” that I should flush my espresso biscuits down the toilet instead of in the galley sink.

I followed his advice, and learned that a small amount of coffee grounds remain in the toilet after flushing. And that’s a problem. Rita has been “reading” the coffee grounds in order to predict my future. And to make things worse—or at least more annoying, she won’t tell me what she’s discovered. All she will say is, “Hoo boy, mister, you’re going to make your bartender a happy, happy person in the worst way.”

I told her I don’t have a bartender, but she just laughed and shook her head.

If this continues, the coffee remains will be headed back down the galley sink. Clogs the size of a healthy weasel aren’t as bothersome as Rita.

23 January 2001
The Most Generous Artists
I had a pleasant walk through San Francisco and saw three nice little pieces of writing painted on three different walls.

cheaters never lose

thank you for not breeding

cars are coffins

People who paint unmarketable, ephemeral work for everyone’s enjoyment are the most generous artists I know.

24 January 2001
I Miss the Gang of Four
Gang of Four tunes are around four minutes long, whereas most popular titles are around three minutes long. I guess that explains why Gang of Four tunes seem a third longer than most songs I usually hear.

I miss the Gang of Four. They were good, and that rarely leads to commercial longevity.

25 January 2001
A Supermodel Who Can’t Say No
Margaret called and begged and begged me to model for her again. I reminded her about the last time I modeled for her, and she apologized yet again for the ugly incident. She assured me that her new studio manager would never ever let a supermodel’s champagne glass become dry.

“Well, if you really need a supermodel, I really can’t say no to a friend,” I admitted.

“I got the client to pay your ridiculously high fee,” Margaret said, “but there is one little issue we need to discuss.”

“And what one little issue might that be?” I asked.

“It’s nudity,” Margaret said after a pause. “Here’s the proposition. If the shot was tastefully done, with the right lighting and just a couple of trusted assistants in the studio, would you consider being photographed with your clothes on?”

I agreed. I guess I’m just a supermodel who can’t say no, at least to someone as charming as Margaret.

26 January 2001
Inertia in Motion
Trent is excited about this weekend’s big American football game. He is especially intrigued by one of the huge players who almost ripped the arm off an opponent in the last big football game.

“That guy is massive behemoth,” enthused Trent. “He probably weighs four hundred pounds, but he’s fast, really fast. It’s like watching inertia in motion.”

27 January 2001
Memorial Service Bad Shoe Decision
I went to Derek’s memorial service today. It was all very sad; he died when he should have had a lot more time on the meter.

For the first time in months, I wore “nice” shoes instead of my hiking boots. At the conclusion of the remembrances, I was invited on a two kilometer memorial walk on a muddy trail. I was told Derek would have liked that, and that he would have been amused by my poor choice of footwear.

Come to think of it, the last time I wore those shoes was to a David Brower Memorial Martini Session. I ended up with nasty blisters after we walked miles back to the lab.

From now on I’m going to wear boots to memorial services. I’m sure the guest of honor will understand.

28 January 2001
Athletes Too Clever by Perhaps Half
I heard that the Spanish basketball team was stripped of its Paralympics gold medal after officials discovered that the athletes were not intellectually disabled. In fact, the athletes apparently had IQs higher seventy-five, the upper limit allowed for intellectually disabled players.

I wonder how the impostors were caught? Although I don’t have much exposure to sports, I get the impression that few athletes are ever accused of being too smart. The loss of the gold medal has to be a disappointment, especially when the odds of getting caught were so small.

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29 January 2001
An Uncomfortable Drinking Situation
Fran took me to a new bar, a horrible bar. Everybody knows drinking leads to urination, but some idiot painted a stalking tiger on the wall behind the urinal. As Charles Darwin more or less said, it’s impossible to urinate when being stalked by a carnivorous feline.

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©2001 David Glenn Rinehart