- 1 January 2006
- No. 3,126 (cartoon)
- I give up; enough is enough.
Enough is never enough.
- 2 January 2006
- More Meaningless Statistics
- As of yesterday, Ive now been concocting this daily notebook for over a decade. (Please note I used the word notebook and not blog, since latter word didnt exist ten years ago. The contraction of weblog is a sloppy bit of slang that neednt exist today, but thats another tirade for another day.)
My computer tells me that, since I began, Ive typed 2,577,977 characters. Two and a half million struck me as an improbably large number until I calculated that only required an average of less than a thousand daily tippety-taps on the keyboard. I only typed 450,319 words, though. If Im going to reach a cumulative total of a million words in another decade, I shall have to use lots of allegorical, clarifying, comparative, corroborative, delineative, descriptive, diagrammatic, emblematic, exemplifying, explicatory, expository, figurative, graphic, iconographic, illuminative, illustrational, illustratory, imagistic, indicative, interpretive, metaphoric, and revealing words.
Or, in lay terms, padding.
Of course, many of my learned friends argue that precisely 3,653or thereaboutsdays of tedious notebook entries constitute little more than fluffed stuffing and stuffed fluff. And, when they do, I dont disagree.
- 3 January 2006
- Three-Legged Dogs and Dead Horses
- The sight of a three-legged dog running through the park led Christine to wonder aloud why dogs seemed to do reasonably well with seventy-five percent of their limbs, but horses were useless if even one of their legs was maimed.
I suggested that dogs were so stupid that they may not have noticed that something was awry after losing a leg. Or, I reasoned, perhaps dogs really arent that stupid, and may have observed over the millennia that lame horses get killed.
Christine scowled at both arguments, but failed to provide any plausible alternative.
- 4 January 2006
- I rarely get upset or angry, but today I am livid beyond crimson. The fiasco began when I asked how plans were going for my victory celebrations after I am elected the new king of England on Friday. I was informed my campaign manager in London (alright, Norwich) that he was dreadfully sorry but, it seems that our intern failed to file the election papers on time.
Let me explain something, I began, the lot of you are sacked, effective 1 December. And as for last months payment that was temporarily delayed, you may now consider the delay permanent. Now bugger off.
I should have known better than to hire nefarious Brits. I wager Chuck bribed them to sabotage my campaign for king of England, just as he bought off most of the English newspapers. (As an aside, thats why the tabloids have almost stopped using equine terms to describe the mistress he married.)
And as if I didnt have enough to do already, it now looks like I shall have to begin my campaign for king all over again.
- 5 January 2006
- In one sense, its senseless, declared Molly.
It is, however, sensible in another sense, replied Polly.
I sense youre talking about a sixth sense, suggested Molly.
Sensational! declared Polly.
I love listening to identical twins argue, especially since they never seem to be able to do so very well.
- 6 January 2006
- Schadenfreude Made Me Do It
- Melanie wrote to tell me I was a pretentious idiot for using the phrase lesprit de lescalier. She went on to ask me what it meant.
I may be an idiot, but Im not a pretentious one. Its just that there a few ideas that may be more succinctly said in a language other than English. In this case, lesprit de lescalier works much better than an awkward phrase such as, thinking of the clever remark you should have made long after the opportunity to make it has passed, i.e., when walking down the stairs after a party.
I sent Melanie a concise reply: Schadenfreude made me do it.
I bet Melanie wont ask me what schadenfreude means, but I hope she does.
- 7 January 2006
- Shifty Years Old
- I loathe Edgar Degas, even though we never met. I hate him for something he said, something thats annoyed me for decades. Everyone has talent at twenty-five. The difficulty is to have it at fifty.
A pox on Edgar Degas.
Today is my birthday. When asked how old I am, I answer truthfully, Im shifty years old.
- 8 January 2006
- A Fountain of Publicity
- I read that a seventy-six year old French performance artist was arrested in Paris for whacking Marcel Duchamps Fountain with a hammer. The news report didnt identify the unnamed artist, but noted that hed also urinated in the same sculpturea generic urinalin 1993. What a shame to still be referred to as anonymous after two internationally-publicized publicity stunts.
The porcelain piece has been generating lots of press for the late Duchamp since he first exhibited it in 1917. Duchamp feigned indifference to fame, but cleverly ensured that the original piece would be remembered and regarded as art when he had Alfred Stieglitz photograph the original. That clever move generated sensitive photographic treatment. It also started ninety years of publicity, since Stieglitz was the owner of the seminal 291 Gallery.
The original Fountain was lost long ago; the nameless French performance artist vandalized a three a half million dollar reproduction, albeit one signed by Duchamp.
No word on the fate of the attacker. Given his age, I hope the gendarmes let him off with a reprimand. If performance artist is a euphemism for mime, then wed probably all be better off if he spent the remainder of his years in prison.
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©2006 David Glenn Rinehart