- 5 March 2004
- No. 8,752 (cartoon)
- Everything is about sex.
Why is is that?
Because everything is about sex.
- 6 March 2004
- A Day at the Races
- Some of my learned friends were skeptical when I reported that Id just returned from the Iditarod race; more than one of them pointed out that it doesnt start until tomorrow. They assumed I was talking about the Alaskan Iditarod, but I wasnt. They should have known I wouldnt fly thousands of kilometers to photograph a bunch of stinky dogs and stinkier guys pulling a sled through frozen wastelands.
Since Im both sensible and lazy, I joined in the San Francisco Iditarod, an event clearly superior to the original. For starters, there wasnt a single dog in the race. And instead of sleds, teams of humans in preposterous outfits pulled shopping carts through San Franciscos main thoroughfares. Empty shopping carts are notoriously unstable, so each of the dozens of teams filled their carts with large quantities of beer and wine.
After police on motorcycles showed up to block traffic, the hundreds of participants raced through town screaming and barking, much to the delight of tourists who saw the San Francisco sights they expected.
In order to avoid heat prostration, exhaustion, et cetera, the Iditarod organizers forced the enthusiastic racers to take twenty-minute rest breaks every few hundred meters. The participants took advantage of every stop; they drank prodigious amounts of beer and wine to replace the fluids lost in the previous sprint.
The racers consumed most of the alcohol by the fifth leg, and thats when the trouble started. The exhausted participants had difficulty controlling the empty, unstable carts. I watched a number of weak Iditarodders stumble and fall when they failed to negotiate the sharp turn onto the Embarcaderos uneven brick roadway. I was distressed by the sight of so many bloody elbows and knees and so many overturned shopping carts in puddles of spilled beer that I left.
I sped away from the grim tableau on my bicycle and enjoyed a restorative burrito.
- 7 March 2004
- The Truth About the Poodle and the Spittoon
- Suzie asked me if my story about the poodle and the spittoon was true. Why people are forever asking me about the veracity of my statements, this I do not know. I place a high value on the truth. And, like anything precious, I part with it judiciously.
- 8 March 2004
- Devastating Musical Tsunami
- Today is a most auspicious day at my laboratory. I just obtained some sophisticated software for my computer that will allow me to make many hours of wretched music with ease. Once I figure out how to connect my bass to my computer, I shall unleash a torrent of audio putrescence.
This is going to be fun!
- 9 March 2004
- Keeping Secrets
- Vaughn showed up for lunch in a very foul mood today.
You sure have a big mouth, she said.
And a gracious good afternoon to you, I replied. What in the hell are you talking about?
It seems that everyone in town has heard about a certain incident with the meat helmets, Vaughn grumbled, which was supposed to be our little secret.
I dont know what youre talking about, I protested, I was very discreet.
Do you call it discreet when you tell half the people we know what happened? Vaughn shot back.
Look, I can keep a secret, I protested, so dont blame me if the people I tell them to cant.
- 10 March 2004
- The Uselessness of Useful Knowledge
- Abraham Flexner was an hombre.
Actually, I dont know a single thing about Flexner except that he wrote an essay, The Usefulness of Useless Knowledge, which was published in the October 1939 issue of Harpers Magazine. The title alone is enough for me to conclude that Flexner was a brilliant guy.
Im thinking of doing a variation on Flexners article; Ill call it, The Uselessness of Useful Knowledge. I suspect thinking about such a piece is as far as Ill get; Im too lazy to actually write it.
- 11 March 2004
- The Truth About Carrots
- Erins Aunt Hildas creepy crazy; shes at least two tacos shy of a combination plate.
I cant eat a carrot in front of Hilda. If I do, she disparages them as, the laziest of the lower fruits, creatures that rejoice in the underworld.
I almost never tell anyone theyre wrong, even of its an objectively true observation that no carrot has ever joined the fruit tribe. Hilda doesnt need to know that.
- 12 March 2004
- Patricks Wake
- When Dr. Wheeler returned to the lab, I asked him about Patricks wake.
Much alcohol was drunk, he reported, and so was I.
I suppose theres really not too much to saw about a wake thats not more or less a priori knowledge.