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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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15 May 2013

gratuitous image

No. 6,131 (cartoon)

I didn’t think much of you at first.

And now?

I don’t think of you at all.

16 May 2013

Global Pixels

Isabella asked me how many pixels she’d need to cover the planet. I told her that it would only take one if it was large enough, an infinite amount if they were small enough. I wasn’t sure about the last one, but, fortunately, she didn’t challenge me.

17 May 2013

gratuitous image

PD Peach

The Crown Prosecution Service in England moves, on those rare occasions when it moves at all, on waves of paperwork. And so, bureaucrats there sent increasingly menacing requests to the West Midland Police asking for a signed statement from PC (police constable) Peach. The coppers explained that there was no PC Peach, only PD (police dog) Peach, but that didn’t stop the torrent of demands.

Finally, an exasperated constable forged a fifteen-word statement from PD Peach.

I Chase Him
I Bite Him
Bad Man
He Tasty
Good Boy
Good Boy Peach

The paper shufflers in London were happy, and that was that.

Perhaps the organization should be renamed the Clown Prosecution Service. That would certainly be a more accurate description of the administraitors’ modus operandi, and would be appreciated by coulrophobes throughout the island.

18 May 2013

gratuitous image

Gratuitous Photo of the Weak: Tomato

This photograph of an heirloom tomato is perhaps the fourth time in over seventeen years that I’ve included a color image in this notebook. The other times featured a banana peel and my blood after a mishap. Empirical evidence suggests that blood and fruit cannot be fully described without using colors other than black, white, and grey.

19 May 2013

A Day at the Races

Bernie remarked that a woman in the Bay to Breakers “race” was completely nude, and that she didn’t even have any shoes on.

Of course! How could she be completely nude if she was wearing shoes?

20 May 2013

The Day After A Day at the Races

I read that a young man was drinking at the race yesterday, as were about thirty or forty thousand other people. This particular young man didn’t live to see the end of the spectacle; he landed on his head after he fell off the roof of a four story building on Fell Street. He fell to his death on Fell; how ironic is that?

Alcohol and height is a very dangerous combination. That’s why drunks who live to an old age frequently crawl when inebriated, the closer to the ground the safer. And as Dean Martin noted, “You’re not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.”


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©2013 David Glenn Rinehart

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