Stare.
 
2008 Notebook: Weak XXIII
 
   
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5 June 2008
No. 5,334 (cartoon)
We bicker constantly.

We never have sex any more.

It’s like we were married.

6 June 2008
Dead Duck Day
Yesterday was Dead Duck Day, a curious holiday indeed, even for the Dutch. For the eleventh year in a row, dedicated workers at the Natural History Museum in Rotterdam, trotted(?) out the desiccated carcass of a dead duck.

The duck was the first known victim of a homosexual necrophiliac attack. If, in fact, it was an attack; perhaps it was just another way of making love? And can a corpse be a victim? With so many questions, it remains an unforgettable event. And it’s especially memorable since Dead Duck Day has been remembered annually by devoted staffers at the Rotterdam museum.

I don’t really understand the interest in duck love. I attribute the popularity of such an event to the fact that ornithology and museums are so stultifyingly boring that anything out of the ordinary is cause for celebration.

7 June 2008
Lonesome Luis’s Deportation Strategy
Hay caramba! There’s an hombre at the entrance to the Mission Street subway station who’s wailing some Hispanic ballad that sounds like a hallucinating chihuahua in a meat grinder. And the fact that he couldn’t play his amazingly untuned guitar just added to the sonic fiasco.

“He’s going to get arrested if he keeps that up,” I predicted.

“That’s exactly his strategy,” Lori agreed.

She went on the explain that the caterwauling “singer” was Lonesome Luis, a Guatemalan peasant who came to San Francisco years ago seeking his fortune. Sadly, Luis found only misfortune, and can’t afford to return home. And so, he’s been howling and banging on his guitar for years in the hope that the authorities will deport him.

It’s a good strategy; I wonder if it works? Could I get a free ticket to Bankok if I said I was a Thai traveler here illegally? I shall have to cogitate on that.

8 June 2008
Catlike Mastication Mortification
A recent news report claimed that Leon Cass, the head of the President’s Council on Bioethics, has come out with a moral objection to eating ice cream in public.

Ice cream, imagine that!

The senior adviser on ethics and morality to the clique of idiots ruling the United States described such mastication as, “a catlike activity that has been made acceptable in informal America, but that still offends those who know eating in public is offensive. This doglike feeding, if one must engage in it, ought to be kept from public view, where, even if we feel no shame, others would not be compelled to witness our shameful behavior.”

I doubt the story is true, since I only found one reference to it on the Internet. As with all good stories, who cares if it’s true? In any case, I love the mental picture of a priggish, repressed old man shuddering in revulsion at the sight of a catlike tongue.

Creamy!

9 June 2008
A Consistent Length
Angelina asked me how long I was in England. That struck me as a silly query, but I nevertheless gave her a straightforward answer.

“Same as now,” I replied, “six feet.”

10 June 2008
Superfluous Men
Dr. Mark Hughes predicts that, in the future, “Sex is just for fun.” He followed up that remark by adding, “In vitro fertilization is going to be for making your children.” (As the head of Genesis Genetics Institute, a company that screens embryos, he would say that, wouldn’t he?)

Although I think avoiding passing along hereditary diseases is a good idea, I nevertheless have to consider Hughes and his ilk traitors to our gender. Once reproduction is relegated to laboratory technicians, who’d want to keep men around?

As Dr. Graham observed, “Men are only good for one thing, and they’re usually not very good at that.”

11 June 2008
Equal to Pigs
For reasons I don’t understand, Angus drives around in a hearse with a pig, a pig of the porcine persuasion. Angus shined the olive oil of clarity on the confusion of pasta by quoting Winston Churchill.

“I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”

I still don’t understand why Angus drives around in a hearse; the pig’s not even dead yet.

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©2008 David Glenn Rinehart