18 June 2001
- The Forgotten Hors dOeuvres
- Ill say this (and a lot more) about Dr. Lehman: she knows how to wield a scalpel. And pour a lovely drink. A couple of nights ago, I had the great pleasure of watching her do both, albeit not simultaneously.
Slish slice slish slash presto!
Dr. Lehmans scalpel flew through boiled, unfertilized chicken eggs with great dexterity and speed. By the second drink I knew where she was going, and before I finished the third drink she was done.
Deviled eggs! I exclaimed. I havent had those since I was a kid!
I was surprised when my seemingly innocuous remark made Dr. Lehman furrow her brow and frown.
I suppose its true, isnt it? she replied. Deviled eggs really are the forgotten hors doeuvres.
- 19 June 2001
- Kiss Noise
- A friend sent me a brief note with a closing I hadnt seen before:
- Ill have to remember kiss noise; thats certainly worth plagiarizing more than once.
- 20 June 2001
- You Can Tell By the Holes
- Im always surprised when someone steps forward to corroborate something Ive published. This doesnt happen very often, perhaps since most of what I write is unadulterated fibbingness.
And so it was that I was taken back when Mr. Bowen walked up to me and said, Youre absolutely right about Krispy Kremes; I could tell by the holes.
Tell what by what holes? I asked.
Krispy Kremes! Mr. Bowen replied authoritatively. You can spot Krispy Kremes across the room because of the big holes. You dont have to pay for the air in holes, thats why Krispy Kremes are so profitable.
Really? I said in order to fill the hole in the conversation.
You bet! Mr. Bowen enthused. Theres money in holes!
- 21 June 2001
- Capn Crunch Redux
- I decided to walk a few blocks to buy some more Bear Beer, a cheap Danish import. On the way to the store, I saw a man wearing a ten-gallon, white Stetson hat jogging in cowboy boots.
On the way back to the lab, I saw a man blowing a whistle into a coin-operated telephone. I think he was crazy, in the negative sense. The crazy guy blew the whistle repeatedly; he blew the whistle enough to annoy a deaf person.
The crazy guy reminded me of John Draper, also known as Capn Crunch, but only because of Drapers familiarity with the amazing power of 2,600 Hertz.
Once upon a time, sending a 2,600 Hertz signal down a phone line opened up the entire network like a technogeek smorgasbord. Since Draper was such a technogeek, he figured out that the free plastic whistles included in boxes of Capn Crunch breakfast cereal generated a 2,600 Hertz signal. All Draper/Crunch had to do was blow the whistle into a phone, and the entire telecommunications network rolled over like a slobbering, idiot dog.
Id wager the crazy guy never heard of Capn Crunch, but I wouldnt be surprised to hear that the breakfast cereal of the same name contributed to his dementia.
- 22 June 2001
- Two Thousand Entries
- Its been two-thousand days since I started this absurd notebook.
What shall I do today? I shall take the day off from writing daily entries. If my calculations are correct, I wont have another opportunity for another thousandth-entry vacation until 18 March 2004.
I smell Rainier Ail.
- 23 June 2001
- The Voice of a Hack
- I enjoyed a juicy burrito dinner with Charles. We talked about this, that, and the other thing, including my theory about art, quality, and time.
Ive looked at hundreds of artists work, and this is what Ive concluded, I began. For the first decade or two, one copies the work of every great artist whose work theyve seen. After that, they probably give up. Or, they become a hack, imitating the same crap ad nauseam. Or, in the happy-ending scenario, they find their own voice and produce good work thats their own.
Thats when Charles suggested a fourth possibility. Id guess that when most people find their own voice, its the voice of a hack.
I couldnt argue with that.
- 24 June 2001
- Bloodsucking Parasitic Parallels
- Although I generally avoid talking about my personal life in my public notebook, I can truthfully report that Ive only slept with one woman in the last decade. There are many reasons for this, including perhaps the most insignificant one: other vermin are more attracted to her than they are to me.
When we sleep in a San Francisco home, she gets all the flea bites. Scottish flies feast on her, not me. Chiggers, ticks, and other bloodsucking parasites always head for her, not me. And so on.
Id always assumed the reason I was spared was professional courtesy: what respectable bloodsucking parasite would attack another bloodsucking parasite?
And then I heard about the Dutch researchers and mosquitos. It turns out that the reason mosquitos prefer one human to another is the smell of the feet. And, since the researchers were Dutch, they also found that mosquitos were attracted to the smell of Limburger cheese.
Limburger cheese?! Like most scientific breakthroughs, that doesnt explain much of anything.
- 25 June 2001
- A New Expletive
- I love the English language. But then again, I would, wouldnt I? Except for a relatively brief affair with the Russian language, English and I have enjoyed a monogamous relationship.
About the only problem Ive had with English is the lack of expletives. Whats left to say after youve said, Fuck that shit?
Not darn much, thats what.
And so it was that I was delighted to learn about meecrog, a word so obscene that I cannot begin to define it.
This should be fun.
last weak |
©2001 David Glenn Rinehart