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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak XXXVI

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3 September 2011

gratuitous image

No. 3,041 (cartoon)

You’re pathetic and lonely.

So am I.

4 September 2011

It Isn’t What It Isn’t

I’m not a pedant; I’m really not. I’d like to be that smart; being grammatically annoying would go well with being a curmudgeon. On the other hand, some things annoy me too much to ignore.

Take the phrase, “It is what it is.” Take it, kill it, shred it, and bury the remains. Please.

I’m sure there’s a dumber tautology, and I hope I never hear it.

5 September 2011

Sex with Extinct Relatives

I likes me a good headline, surely I do. That’s why news of a recent study caught my eye: “Humans had sex with now-extinct relatives.” I imagined foul Frank engaged in very fragrant delicto with his dead grandmother; that’s the kind of thing he’d do to warm up before doing something even more disgusting.

What a misleading headline! Nothing to do with necrophilia at all. It seems that four score thousand years ago or so, we humans were intimately involved with Neanderthals and Denisovans.

I showed the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences story to Nancy. She was distinctly unimpressed.

“Ask Sandra about her teenage boyfriend Randall,” she suggested. “I think you’ll find that humans never stopped having sex with Neanderthals.”

6 September 2011

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Claudia’s Kitty Sketch

Cameras are so relatively cheap and ubiquitous that I have no idea why anyone bothers to draw these days. I was reminded of my ignorance when Claudia included a sketch of an upside-down cat on a note she left for me.

I should rethink drawing. After all, who can operate an upside-down camera?

7 September 2011

Underwear Lobsters Gone Wrong

Nathan Mark Hardy was apprehended Saturday after trying to steal food from a Mississippi grocery store. And not just pedestrian fare: his attempted haul included a pork loin, jumbo shrimp (one of my favorite oxymorons!), and lobsters. And not just by using the usual shoplifting techniques: he tried to hide everything inside his shorts. And not the usual lobsters either: he hid two live ones in his nether regions.

Predictably, it all ended in tears, with Hardy in jail after being charged with theft as well as violating his parole. (It turns out having live lobsters in ones pants inhibits one from outrunning one’s pursuers.) The news report I read didn’t report on the fate of the fugitive lobsters.

I told Rebecca about Hardy’s misadventure, but she showed no sympathy for him or the lobsters.

“My grandfather told me never to get involved in a ménage à trois with other species,” she reported. “He also said that when it comes to bestiality, a girl like me could do better than lobsters.”

Too bad Hardy apparently never had such a sage mentor.

8 September 2011

Stan Brakhage’s Great Advice

Sheila, knowing my penchant for quotes, sent me this corollary to Pamela Z’s observation on artists’ statements: “I would like to think that the art itself is enough of a statement.”

Stan Brakhage had this to say about a film he entered in a competition at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair. “I want it understood that this ‘summary’ is written for identification purposes only and that it is not intended as a statement by the artist on his work. It is my belief that statements by the artist, particularly in print, aesthetically speaking, would better have been included in that work in the first place.”

Huzzah!

9 September 2011

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Depraved Object

I was at Sonja’s dinner party tonight, and noticed a curious object on the kitchen counter.

I’m interrupting this story with a few words about etiquette. I’m generally well-behaved, and never spy on friends. But, when it comes to a curious rubber object in the kitchen, I figure no one expects privacy there.

And that brings me back to the curious rubber object in the kitchen. The black rubber cylindrical/conical object had some sort of valve in the middle. I suspected it was some sort of object that goes in some sort of orifice as part of some sort of sexual act. I wish I hadn’t seen it.

I took Sonja aside and suggested she might want to put the object in a drawer.

“I’m sure we won’t need it now that you’re here,” she said with a smile.

I blushed and fidgeted. And that’s when she told me sordid details about the depraved object. It seems that the device was designed to be inserted into an opened bottle of wine to keep the contents preserved for days.

That’s more depraved than any sexual act I can imagine. There’s a reason a cork can’t be reinserted into the bottle from whence it came; it just ain’t natural.

Stare.

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©2011 David Glenn Rinehart

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