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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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Weak VII


12 February 2013

gratuitous image

No. 4,100 (cartoon)

I want you to love me.


Because I can’t love you.

13 February 2013

Damned Phone, Damned Birds

Samantha’s phone doesn’t really ring when someone calls. It should go ringalingaling as Alexander Graham Bell intended, but it does not. (Bell, ring, it’s obvious.) Instead, Samantha’s device plays a recording of squawking seagulls.

That’s so wrong I don’t know where to begin. Hold it, I do know where to begin. I listened to some screeching seagulls outside my window and thought I heard Samantha’s phone ringing, er, shrieking. Damned phone, damned birds.

14 February 2013

The Difference Between Love

Today is Valentine’s Day, an ersatz holiday designed to market flowers, candy, false hope, and unrealistic expectations. The ridiculous fiasco reminds me of the old question, “What’s the difference between love and herpes?”

Herpes is forever.

Happy VD!

15 February 2013

(Not) Swallowing Razorblades

I read that the acid in my stomach is strong enough to dissolve a razorblade. That sounds like one of those theories that can’t be proven; who can swallow a razorblade?

16 February 2013

Final Flights

I was cycling through Golden Gate Park this afternoon when I perceived a whoosh of feathers with my peripheral vision. I braked, and saw a hawk adjusting its grasp on the rodent it had just caught. The pair were only about five meters away; I never thought I’d see such a sight. After perhaps ten seconds, the hawk flew off across a meadow with its meal. The mouse spent the last minutes of its life on its first and last flight; imagine that.

For some reason, the hawk and the mouse reminded me of another final flight, the Space Shuttle Challenger crash in 1986. Some of the astronauts survived the initial explosion and didn’t die until the shuttle smashed into the Atlantic.

I winder if the mouse or the astronauts passed out from sheer terror before they died?

17 February 2013

gratuitous image

Gratuitous Photo of the Weak: Melted Plastic Hot Plate

I’m always very careful with the electric burner on which I cook. Unless I’m not, as was the case this afternoon. I plugged in an electrical extension cord without realizing that it was connected to the burner. A cloud of acrid, black smoke from melting plastic immediately let me know of my oversight.

The burner is no longer functional, but the shiny blob of melted plastic in the middle of the heating coil is a lovely piece of sculpture.

18 February 2013

Mom Gives Birth to Two Sets of Identical Twins

I ran across a confusing headline this morning, “Mom Gives Birth to Two Sets of Identical Twins.” Whoa, wouldn’t two sets of twins be quadruplets? And anyway, how does a woman survive with four embryonic human leeches in her belly feeding off her for months? That’s just too freakish to contemplate.

19 February 2013

Looking Forward to Death

I don’t promote or publicize my work, so I’m always surprised when I get a note from a stranger. I received such a missive from this afternoon.

Dear Dr. Rinehart,

Nice code name! I’ve deciphered the hidden messages in your recent “notebook” entries: very clever, very clever indeed! Hahaha! I’ve obtained the “tools” you said that we’ll need (except the gerbil), and eagerly await learning what “the date” is.

Looking forward to glory and unafraid of death,


I wasn’t surprised to discover that the email address didn’t work. And so, Rusty, if you’re reading this, the date is ten days after your birthday next year. That will give you plenty of time to find exactly the right gerbil. You know what to do next!


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©2013 David Glenn Rinehart