Stare.
 
2004 Notebook: Weak XLVI
 
   
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12 November 2004
No. 736 (cartoon)
I want out.

You’re going nowhere.

13 November 2004
Marching to A Different Dumber
Lydia called to tell me to stop complaining about the American elections.

“You know what your problem is, David?” she asked.

“Singular?!” I replied.

“You’re out of goose step with mainstream America,” she answered.

“I’m afraid so,” I agreed.

Later, I ran across a relevant prediction by H.L. Mencken, who died in the year in which I was born.

    “As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”

14 November 2004
2:38
Single Beige Female, also known as Micropixie, invited me to a public screening of her short film, Propagandhi. I couldn’t really appreciate it; the audience was laughing so loudly that I couldn’t hear the sound. Feh; I shall try to arrange for a private viewing later.

At the presentation, I saw another film, 2:38. I liked it; it was excruciatingly boring. The two minutes and thirty-eight seconds seemed to go on forever. I wonder if it was really longer than its stated length, a trick by a clever filmmaker to give the viewer false hope that their ordeal would soon be over?

I love it when I discover something worth plagiarizing!

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15 November 2004
Black and White Popcorn
Julie has black and white popcorn. It tastes like common popcorn, but it’s more visually appealing.

16 November 2004
The Impossible Becomes Inevitable
“What kind of art do you like?” Simone asked when we got around to talking about that sort of thing.

“I’m delighted when the impossible becomes inevitable,” I replied.

“Example, please,” Simone demanded.

“I’m afraid what I seek doesn’t exist,” I replied. “It happens all the time.”

17 November 2004
Read Books, Get Brain
The New York Metropolitan Transit Authority has pulled ads featuring the copy, “Read Books, Get Brain.” It turns out that “get brain” is a young person’s risqué double entendre.

Losing touch with popular culture is one of those undeniable signs of aging.

18 November 2004
World’s First Bigfoot Hooker Tells All!
I feel sorry for my rich friends; their immense wealth deprives them of so many simple joys. One friend, who goes hither and yon on her private jet, hasn’t been in a grocery store in decades. And thus she would not have seen the World Weekly News headline that intrigued me today, “World’s First Bigfoot Hooker Tells All!”

I was too cheap to buy the tabloid, so I don’t know whether the bigfoot was the hooker or the hookee. The mind boggles. Or, at least, my mind boggles.

19 November 2004
Fingerprinted
I dropped by Rupert’s gallery tonight, and that’s where I got fingerprinted by a woman with the improbably Dickensian name of Nigel Poor. There was inebriation in the air, so I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I suspect our interaction was of an aesthetic nature. I suggested to Nigel that she leave a blank to denote that two thirds of my right index finger are missing, but she was sensible enough not to fall for such a cheap conceptual gimmick.

I let her make a record of the surviving bit after she promised she wouldn’t share it with Interpol. I figure I can trust someone named Nigel Poor, if, in fact, that really was her name.

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©2004 David Glenn Rinehart