Stare.
 
2005 Notebook: Weak XXXII
 
   
gratuitous image
7 August 2005
No. 1,609 (cartoon)
I love you.

I love me too.

8 August 2005
For Generations Yet Unbored
Glenda showed me her new printer, a very nice printer indeed. Since most printers are quite good these days, I asked her about the archival quality of the inks.

“The colors seem fine to me,” she said, “why does it matter?”

I went on to explain the difference between pigments and dyes as well why image permanence is important to me. Unfortunately, Glenda misunderstood what I said.

“That’s pretty pretentious, even for you,” she replied. “What makes you think generations yet unborn will want to see anything you’ve done when almost no one who has been born likes it?”

Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

I corrected her by pointing out that I said that I wanted to make my work available to “generations yet unbored,” not unborn. I went on to explain that in the future, with better editing, curating, collaborative filtering, et cetera, that boring work may be hard to come by. That’s why although my tedious work isn’t all that unusual in a sea of mediocrity, things may be better in the future.

9 August 2005
Kitty in a Can!
I recently learned that my late friend, Miles, lives on.

Sort of.

As I mentioned in my brief remembrance of that fine feline, Miles used to chase around a forty-kilogram dog. Now, one of the surviving roommates likes to chase said dog with a can of compressed air. Every time the human releases the compressed gas with a loud hiss, the miserable canine thinks he’s hearing the sound of an angry cat, and runs away at great speed.

I look forward to playing kitty in a can the next time time I’m at the House of Miles.

10 August 2005
My Handgun Position
When anyone asks me what my position is when it comes to handguns, I usually reply, “kneeling, with two hands.” I’ve learned from decades of experience that one of the the best ways to shoot a camera is also one of the best ways to shoot a Glock.

I’ve never shot a human, and hope I never do. Having said that, I appreciated that guns can play an important role in self defense.

Apparently David Owen Rye agrees with me. According to a newspaper account, he was aurally assaulted by an incredibly annoying car alarm. That’s why he fired three shots from his pistol into the offending vehicle.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

And then silence.

Until the police arrived, that is. They arrested Rye for “reckless discharge of a firearm.” Reckless?! He didn’t miss once!

It’s a sad day when a guy can’t defend himself.

11 August 2005
Lights Out!
Priscilla asked me how I’d kill myself if I decided to commit suicide. I replied that I couldn’t answer that question because suicide is one of few things I’d never consider.

“I know how I’d do it,” Priscilla announced.

Aha! Her question wasn’t a genuine question at all; it was just a conversational formality to precede her statement. Friends humor friends, so I went along with her.

“Don’t tell me you’d slit your wrists,” I said.

“Hell no,” she replied. “I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I give up,” I replied. “what do you have in mind?”

“I’d poke my eyes out and bleed to death,” she explained.

I was going to ask her why that would be preferable to slitting her wrists, but it only took me a few seconds to realize she wouldn’t see any blood.

12 August 2005
Carnal Tunnel Syndrome?!
Sophie told me she was suffering from “carnal tunnel syndrome.”

“You mean carpal tunnel syndrome, no?” I asked.

“No,” Sophie replied, “English is my native language and I know what I’m doing.”

Carnal tunnel syndrome?! I decided to change the subject.

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©2005 David Glenn Rinehart