Stare.
 
2003 Notebook: Weak XXII
 
   
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28 May 2003
No. 7,008 (cartoon)
That will kill you.

Everything does.

29 May 2003
Artists’ Pens
I went to an exhibition featuring work by the graduating class of the San Francisco Art Institute. I didn’t have high expectations; I figured that all the artists were, by definition, failures. (I long ago concluded that the only way to succeed at art school is to drop out and be an artist instead of a student.)

Every graduate had a guest book in which their friends could laud the work, and most of the students provided a very nice pen for that purpose. Here’s what I wrote in seven of the guest books.

    I preferred the very nice pen to the work, so I took it. Thanks, and good luck!

I now have seven fine pens, more than enough to last until next year’s exhibition.

30 May 2003
A Successful Hunting Strategy
Huey asked me what I knew about hunting deer.

“All I know about deer hunting is what I learned from my father,” I replied, “Throw the bottle cap from the bottle of whisky out the window as you’re driving north; you won’t need it again.”

Huey nodded ambiguously.

31 May 2003
Lick Her Store
This morning, Noreen and Bill took me to the place that used to serve a seven-beer smorgasbord. I’m delighted to report than that the seven-beer smorgasbord has evolved into the eight-beer smorgasbord. That’s what I call progress!

As any accomplished physicist will attest, beer leads to more beer. And so it was I proposed that we visit a liquor store en route back to their compound. Their young son Harry greeted this suggestion with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Lick her store?” he exclaimed. “Lick her store! Lick her store? Lick her store!”

Harry then ran toward his mother with tongue a-wagging.

Mother was not amused; I could tell from her glowering gaze.

“Well,” I said, “What do you expect when you invite Mean Uncle David to breakfast?”

“Lick her store! Lick her store!” Harry exclaimed.

1 June 2003
A Little Accident
Tony asked me what happened to my leg.

I looked down, and remembered that the doctors had to amputate my right leg after this morning’s bike accident.

“Just one of those things,” I explained, without explaining anything at all.

2 June 2003
Beret Strategy
I found a black beret in the alley, took it back to the lab, sterilized it, washed it, and tried it on. It fit. I’d never buy a beret, but I can’t resist a free anything.

“David!” Bernie exclaimed, “you’re wearing a beret!”

“Very astute observation, Bernard,” I replied.

“You look preposterous,” Bernie continued. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing?”

“I got the French thing happening here,” I replied.

“You mean you’ve gone from being a pretentious artist to a pretentious artist with a ludicrous hat?” Bernie asked.

“Not at all,” I explained. “My hair’s dirty, so I’m wearing the hat until I get around to taking a shower.”

“Ah, very French indeed,” Bernie agreed. “Nevertheless, I think you’d be better off with dirty hair.”

3 June 2003
Eva’s in Love Again
Eva’s in love again, and she’s telling everyone.

“I’m so in love with Bruce,” she proclaimed, “that I think of him even when I’m not thinking of him.”

A few of our common friends are concerned about Eva, but I’m not worried at all. Infatuation is one of the few self-correcting afflictions one can suffer.

4 June 2003
The Problem with Siamese Twins
I just read that a couple of twenty-eight year old women plan on separating. That, in itself, is not news; my fellow lesbians do it all the time.

Here’s the newsworthy aspect of this story: the women are physically joined at the skull. In colloquial terms, they’re Siamese twins. Even if they’re from Iran.

This is a compelling story from every perspective: ethical, moral, cultural, monetary, religious, and so on. And so it is that I’m deeply embarrassed that I have only one word that comes to mind every time I hear such a story.

If you thought the word was “sex,” then shame on you too.

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©2003 David Glenn Rinehart