Stare.
 
2006 Notebook: Weak XXX
 
   
gratuitous image
23 July 2006
No. 9,711 (cartoon)
Animals have a place in my heart.

Animals have a place in my stomach.

24 July 2006
More Presidential Shit
The president of the United States is back from a disastrous trip to Europe. There, he was seen conducting Texas-style diplomacy by treating the British prime minister as if he was his servant—which, of course, is obviously the case—by summoning him with the phrase, “Yo, Blair!” He grabbed the German chancellor by the neck in what appeared to be a brief chokehold, talked with his mouth stuffed with food, and generally behaved quite reprehensibly. Oh, and he used the word, “shit.”

I know the latter item to be true, since I heard a National Public Radio broadcast in which the president said the word he himself banned. (All the other American networks deleted the alleged obscenity.) Ironically, the president’s apparatchiks who are are waging their unholy war on infidels who broadcast dirty words should prosecute and/or persecute National Public Radio, but they can’t without insulting their Dear Leader. I imagine, with more than a little schadenfreude, that this latest debacle is no doubt causing their tiny, pimple-sized, pus-filled brains to implode.

25 July 2006
A False Spillane Anecdote
I heard on a radio program that the recently-deceased writer Mickey Spillane’s main character Mike Hammer usually ate at a diner because Spillane couldn’t spell the word, “restarant.” I suspect that the story isn’t true, because I could find no reference to “Spillane”and “restarant” anywhere on the Internet.

I suppose it doesn’t matter to me, since my characters and I generally only eat at taquerieas.

26 July 2006
Now That’s What I Call Music Criticism!
Today, I listened to Lloyd Schwartz reviewing Arturo Toscanini’s live NBC Symphony telecasts from 1948 through 1952. Schwartz made a remarkable observation about the maestro, “his baton tingles with passionate intensity.”

Now that’s what I call music criticism!

27 July 2006
Gurgitators!
I’m not anti-semantic, but I do like to see language redefined, repurposed, and brutally mangled. And so it was that I was delighted to hear about a recent variation on the word, “regurgitator.” To speak in euphemisms, a regurgitator is someone who talks on the porcelain telephone, has technicolor yawns, blows chunks, that sort of thing.

A gurgitator is someone who ingests obscene amounts of food as a sport. For example, someone who can eat the most blueberry pie or swallow the most hot dogs without making the unwelcome transition from gurgitator to regurgitator.

What could be more American than being a gurgitator? That’s not a serious question, though, since most of the champion gurgitators are improbably skinny Japanese guys.

28 July 2006
Drummer Truths
Reba Addler of Elmira, New York, wrote to condemn a recent piece I wrote because, “it extolled drummer abuse.” She certainly worked up a lot of dandruff over a stupid goat story.

If Reba Addler of Elmira, New York, really wanted to know about my position on drummers, I’d have asked her this question, “What’s the difference between a drummer and a drum machine?”

The answer, of course, is that one only need punch instructions into a drum machine once.

I don’t think that Reba Addler of Elmira, New York, is ready for that knowledge, so I didn’t reply to her frothy little note.

29 July 2006
Frank Contempt
I asked Alexia to proofread a letter I wrote to a scumbag who’s trying to embezzle money from me.

“Delightfully nasty,” Alexia said, “except I don’t understand why you used the closing, ‘with all due respect,’ when you’re obviously contemptuous of the cretin.”

“Well observed,” I replied. “In this case, the amount of respect due is frank contempt.”

last weak  |   index  |   next weak


©2006 David Glenn Rinehart