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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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Weak XI


13 March 2010

gratuitous image

No. 2,111 (cartoon)

I fight my self-destructive behavior.

I embrace it.

14 March 2010

Pi Day Redux

Today is another Pi Day. Third month, fourteenth day. 3.14. 3.14! Get it? Pi is 3.14 and then some! Pretty funny, no?

Actually, no.

15 March 2010

Freedom from Gender, Slash Shortage

Norrie May-Welby was born a male, but fixed that little mistake with a sex-change operation when s/he was twenty-eight. Being a woman didn’t work out so well either, so twenty years later s/he decided to become a neuter, neither man nor woman.

“The concepts of man or woman don’t fit me,” May-Welby explained. “The simplest solution is not to have any sex identification.”

It appears that s/he made the right decision for him/her. As for the rest of us, we could use some new pronouns. (I, for one, am running out of slashes.)


16 March 2010

Slow Motion Cheeseburger Suicide

Donna Simpson weighs some two hundred and fifty kilograms, and that’s a good start. Even though she’s so morbidly obese (sorry, no other words will do) that she can only walk six meters without resting, she’s trying to double her weight by consuming twelve-thousand calories a day.

It’s always refreshing to hear a story about someone trying to realize their dream.

Simpson eats forty-thousand dollars a year in cheeseburgers, pizza, and other fatty fare; that’s a lot of money. Since she’s as entrepreneurial as she is ambitious, Simpson came up with the brilliant idea of letting people pay to watch her eat junk food over the Internet.

“I love eating and people love watching me eat,” she explained. “It makes people happy, and I’m not harming anyone.”

Anyone except herself, of course. I think it’s sick to pay to watch someone eat themselves to death, but that’s clearly a bad idea whose time has come.

17 March 2010

Despicable Dog Tricks

Dogs are nefarious, murderously so. I’m particularly impressed the way they kill people during the winter months; here’s how it works.

Dog walks onto frozen lake or river. Dog “accidentally” falls through ice. Humans venture onto frozen lake or river to rescue dog. Humans fall through ice and drown or freeze to death. Dog is later found safely on shore, grinning, mission accomplished.

It happens all the time.

Sometimes a dog’s odious plan doesn’t work. Koozie, a mutt from Buffalo, New York, wandered onto the ice, then ended up on an ice floe fifty kilometers from shore in Lake Erie. Humans avoided the drowning trap by using a helicopter to rescue the beast.

The canine tried the same nefarious plan a second time, but again the humans used a helicopter to pluck the mongrel off the ice. No doubt the cur will try a more sophisticated variation on same trick next winter.

I’d like to think that humans are learning about the dogs’ diabolical ways, but I doubt it. We’re every bit a stupid as they are.

18 March 2010

Why I’m David, Not Timothy

My name is not Timothy, and there’s a reason for that.

My mother wanted to name me Timothy, but my father was having none of it: he declared no son of his would be named after a kind of hay. And so, my parents did what lots of parents did in the fifties: they named their son David.

My name’s been around for at least three millennia, but was especially popular when I was conceived because of the television show, “Davy Crockett.” Not having been born yet, I never saw the program. I later heard it was quite popular, and resulted in a number of males my age being named David.

I was reminded of this cultural curiosity when I heard that Fess Parker, the actor who played Crockett, died today. I read that Parker was a Republican reactionary, and a friend of Ronald Reagan. It makes sense that bad actors would stick together; they usually do.

I’m still glad Parker decided to popularize Crockett instead of Dolphin Ward Floyd, both of whom died at the Alamo. Dolphin is an even worse name than Timothy.


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