- 7 August 2001
- Bunny-Munch Carrots
- I was dumbfounded when Herbert told me his children wouldnt eat carrots because they thought carrots caused flatulence. I may not know much about anything, but I do know that carrots are one of natures most beneficial and benign fruits. (I eat a lot of carrots; thats why I can see in the dark.)
After a trip to Herberts refrigerator, I found that the problem wasnt the carrots; the carrots packaging was the culprit. Some marketing idiots made the unfortunate choice of branding their companys carrots Bunny-Munch, and using an even more unfortunate choice of illustrations. The cartoon rabbit on every bag of Bunny-Munch carrots appears to have a severe gas attack, all because some underpaid illustrator couldnt draw a rabbits tail.
Entire civilizations have been destroyed by smaller mistakes.
- 8 August 2001
- Independent Shadows
- I took the train to Sherries temporary studio and saw an amazing new piece. Through some combination of lighting, filters, and glass walls, she created an environment in which there was no apparent correlation between shadows and the objects that cast them.
She wouldnt tell me how she did it.
I dont want to say too much on this topic, she explained. A girls gotta keep some secrets.
- 9 August 2001
- Thirty Years of Silence Ended
- I heard a story about a Vietnamese soldier who was injured during a View Nam War battle. He survived his wounds, but never spoke again. Never, that is, until he got very drunk at a party in his village, at which point he spoke at length.
His thirty-year silence may have been caused by the trauma of war. Or perhaps he didnt have anything to say for three decades.
But then again, theres also the possibility that he still hasnt said anything, and that the powerful rice wine was talking out of the veterans mouth. Alcohol is a great ventriloquist; Ive seen it work its tricks more times than I can remember.
- 10 August 2001
- Transplanted Stump
- I became confused when I saw the stump of a huge tree a few meters from the Pacific Ocean on a beach near Florence, Oregon. I knew that such a tree could not have grown or survived so near the shore of the ocean, so how did it get there?
Thats the question I asked at a local bar, The Crab Pot. One of the locals told me that some damn hippies had brought in a huge tree stump with a helicopter, then buried it in the sand. (The tree, that is, not the helicopter.) As I understand it, a team of photographers, lighting technicians, actors, and various apparatchiks descended on the displaced stump and made a series of public service advertisements warning against the myriad perils of coastal logging.
Since all the firs, redwoods, and sequoias vanished from west coast beaches a zillion years ago, I fear its too late to save the transplanted stumps relatives. As the damn hippies know, however, its never too late to make money.
- 11 August 2001
- Nasty Tool
- Youre going to need these, Greg said as he tossed me a pair of vice grips.
I was worried; I recognized the weird pliers from Michael Rosens photographs. Id seen vice grips attached to mens genitals and womens nipples; ouch!
I find pain painful; I didnt like the idea of using this nasty tool.
As it turns out, Greg had another plan. He discovered that vice grips can pull out rusted and corroded staples from a roof under repair, thats what Im going to be doing for the next few days.
I felt uncomfortable using a sexual aid in the services of carpentry, but Im sure Ill get over it in a thousand staples.
- 12 August 2001
- An Alien Tableau, Demystified
- I ran across a strange thing on the ocean beach today; I found a board covered in pink worms. Each pink worm was attached to the board on one end; the wiggly end was encased in a small, transparent shell. Occasionally, feathery teeth emerged from one of the shells to probe the air for prey.
I told Jim about my discovery and showed him a photograph of the alien tableau.
Oh, those are common as tears, Jim explained. Theyre just a bunch of Pacific Goose Barnacles. The birds will have eaten them by now.
How sad. I dont care if a bunch of birds ate a bunch of worms, but I do find it lamentable that too much knowledge can transform a pod of mysterious wormy creatures into a few dead barnacles.
Its too late to do anything about Jims maritime knowledge, but I shall treasure and protect my ignorance.
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©2001 David Glenn Rinehart