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17 December 2012
No. 6,990 (cartoon)
How bad is it?
We’re down to just two squares.
18 December 2012
I’ve known Thia for years, so I was surprised to discover that she didn’t know that I’ve made a lot of alleged artwork.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were good?” she asked.
“Because I’m not. And more to the point, I let my work speak for itself, usually in mumbled whispers,” I explained. “People who aren’t very good promote their work. People who are accomplished don’t need to do so.”
“So where are you on that spectrum?”
“Somewhere between tipsy and inebriated,” I replied, “but that’s something we can tweak right now.”
19 December 2012
Messengers or Meals?
The French make great wine, bad films, great food, and bathe too infrequently. What else is there to day about the Gallic race?
Pigeons, that’s what. The French military maintains a squadron of carrier pigeons along side of their nuclear arsenal. Well, maybe not literally beside the bombs and missiles. Or perhaps they do, as part of a program to develop a new breed of mutated birdie warriors.
More likely, the avifauna are intended to serve a postwar backup network and/or tasty meals. Who knows? Anyone who tries to fathom the French is wasting his or her time.
20 December 2012
Gratuitous Photo of the Weak: Double Fantasy
I was cycling through Berkeley when I saw an ugly, windowless structure that looked like it was built cheaply and unimaginatively in the sixties. Someone attempted to spruce up the exterior by affixing signs that said “Fantasy” on corners of the building. The attempt failed.
21 December 2012
Wild Apocalypse Chase
Bethany is in Guatemala or Honduras or some hot place to watch the end of the world. She’s going to be disappointed, and how.
The problem lies with bad information, as so many problems do. She heard the Mayans predicted that the world, the universe, the whole kit and caboodle would cease to exist today, but she heard wrong. The indigenous people’s calendar forecast no such thing.
The story Bethany heard was based on Calendar, a poem describing a fiery end to every galaxy and everything in them. Maya Angelou penned the dismal verse; that’s the Mayan Calendar that send her on a wild apocalypse chase.
22 December 2012
Devorah posed an interesting question: why is the fat, dirty, old man who maintains a comprehensive list of every naughty girl on the planet known as Santa Claus and not San Claus?
I only know enough Spanish to order a stonking behemoth burrito rich in capsaicin, but even I could follow her logic. San is masculine and Santa is feminine, e.g., San Francisco and Santa Ana, respectively. It’s obvious to me that Santa Claus is a post-operation transsexual; the requisite testosterone injections would explain the huge beard.
I’m grateful to Devorah for her insight. Everyone appreciates cunning linguists, what’s not to love?
23 December 2012
Television kills; everyone knows that. It destroys imagination, creativity, and curiosity. It ruins relationships and health as the lard accumulates in immobile, bloated bodies. It kills children’s dreams, and, according to a new report, it kills children as well.
U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission reported that falling televisions kill hundreds of children; they crush the wee bairns. At least they died quickly, as opposed to the slow, mind-numbing descent into a permanent vegetative state.
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©2012 David Glenn Rinehart