Stare.
 
2006 Notebook: Weak XV
 
   
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9 April 2006
No. 6,841 (cartoon)
I feel claustrophobic.

Let’s go someplace where we can each be alone.

10 April 2006
A Good Place to Work
There is no overpopulation problem. Most people live in either the past or the future; sometimes I go for days without seeing anyone. The present is largely inhabited; that’s why I like a relaxing visit there from time to time. It’s a good place to work.

11 April 2006
Surstromming Attack!
British Airways and Air France have banned surstromming from their jets. Some say that the fermented herring smells like rotten fish, others agree. And that’s about all there is to say about the Swedish delicacy.

Curiously, airline bureaucrats insist the repulsive smell has nothing to do with the ban. Instead, they argue that cans of the fermented herring could explode, since the fish continues to ferment in the can. In any case, surstromming is a wonderful tool in a creative terrorist’s arsenal.

I wonder where I could buy some surstromming? I think it’s just the thing to eat the next time I’m on a crowded jet; I bet my fellow passengers would give me a wide berth. Since I hate to patronize British Airways or Air France, my vicious plan just might work!

12 April 2006
Admirritation
I just created a new word, admirritation. I’m thinking of artists like Hans Haake and Mark Pauline who are admired because they irritate people, although usually not the people who admire then. I suppose the purest form of admirritation is to be admired by the people one irritates. Despite almost daily experiments going back decades, none of the people I irritate admire me, but at least they tolerate me. Tolirritation?

13 April 2006
Kitchen Utensil Priorities
I’m housesitting again, and it’s time for sardines. Or perhaps not: I can’t find a can opener. Or perhaps it’s another invisible can opener, but that’s another story for a previous day.

I can’t locate a can opener, but I have spotted at least five corkscrews. I applaud the owners’ priorities, especially since I already have a can opener on my Swiss army knife.

I enjoyed a delicious sardine and red wine dinner.

14 April 2006
Carniverous Giraffes
Todd believed me when I told him that a giraffe was actually a canine.

“I suppose they have to eat birds and monkeys since their heads are so high,” Todd agreed.

“You do know what a canine is, don’t you?” I asked Todd.

“Of course,” Todd said indignantly, “canines eat meat.”

“Dogs are canines, just like like cats are felines,” I explained. “Something that eats meat is a carnivore.”

“Giraffes eat dogs?!” Todd exclaimed.

“They sure do,” I lied. “They pick them up, then drop them from high above the ground to break their legs so they can’t run away. The giraffes only eat the dogs’ spinal columns to nourish their long necks.”

Todd assured me that he’d never look at giraffes the same way again, and I believed him.

15 April 2006
The New Cowboys?
Victor believes that hippies will be the new cowboys in fifty years. I didn’t challenge his statement, in part because I’m not interested in hippies or cowboys. Anyway, neither of us will know whether he was right since we’ll both be dead in fifty years.

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©2006 David Glenn Rinehart