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17 December 2014

No. 4,322 (cartoon)

We’ll be friends until we’re senile.

And then we’ll be new friends!

18 December 2014

Artist Destroyer

Nerissa had a vision that she will become an artist destroyer.

“Does that mean you’ll be an artist who destroys,” I asked, “or someone who destroys artists?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” she replied, “maybe both!”

19 December 2014

Miranda’s Unknown Past

I’ve known Miranda for over a decade, but the trajectory of her life remains most unclear. I’ve heard lots of stories from her past, but never understood how they fit together. I asked her to tell me the brief chronology of her five decades on this planet, so she did but then she didn’t.

She only needed a couple of minutes to talk about growing up in Minnesota and going to college. She paused, then announced she was so depressed at how boring her life was and is that she couldn’t go on.

I urged her to create a different reality if she didn’t like her current one, starting with concocting colorful stories from her fictitious past.

“Like how I got the startup money for my company by buying a thousand kilograms of marijuana from my organized crime contacts and selling it at a huge profit?” she asked.

When I asked if that was true, she correctly pointed out that I should know better than to ask such a stupid question.

20 December 2014

Relatively Civilized

Lorenzo and I were the last ones left at Bonnie’s party, so I headed for the door in order not to be the last person to leave. I didn’t have to hurry; Lorenzo announced that he needed, “one more drink to sober up.”

I was glad Lorenzo was there; it’s nice to be with someone with such atrocious manners that I look relatively civilized. And since Lorenzo’s quite overweight, I appear to be relatively athletic as well. The moral of this story is the familiar adage that looks can be deceiving, and that I need to associate with more fat, uncouth people.

21 December 2014

University Failure

Stephano said he flunked his English literature course and was going to drop out of college because he wasn’t learning anything. I was relentlessly positive as usual, and pointed out that he had indeed learned something very important: unless you require a specific degree, paying a hundred thousand dollars for a diploma is a waste of time and money.

Out of morbid curiosity about what goes on in the belly of academia, I asked Stephano what he’d read in his literature class. He replied that he hadn’t read anything; that’s was why he didn’t pass the course. He explained that he didn’t want to read, he wanted to be taught, and that was why his professor failed him in more ways than one.

22 December 2014

Thanks, Rebecca!

One of the great things about being an American is that one can justify anything, even torturing and murdering innocent people. But that’s quite enough about Dick Cheney, George Bush, and other unindicted war criminals.

I am also quite accomplished at justifying everything I do, and, more importantly, everything I don’t do. And now, thanks to an observation by Rebecca Solnit, I have yet another rationalization for my sloth: “If the perfect is the enemy of the good, maybe imperfection is its friend.”

Ah, yes, my dear friend imperfection. There’s really no need to really conclude this let alone proof what I’m drafted; perfect! Thanks, Rebecca!

23 December 2014

Benign, Mostly

Benedict chastised me for belittling the religious zealots who are trying to force everyone to adhere to their pre-Neanderthal superstitions and barbaric edicts. He said I shouldn’t be prejudiced against such a large group of people. I had to agree, although I wondered why he took the high road, a path with which he’s quite unfamiliar. I didn’t have to wonder long.

Before I could concur, he said I shouldn’t hate a group of people when it would be so much more rewarding to hate them individually. Ah, that’s the Benedict I know.

I don’t hate the rabid bigots; they don’t merit that much of my time. Of all the stupid things one can do, hating has to be in the top ten. Although I would describe making art—especially mine—as a stupid thing to do, at least it’s benign, mostly.

Benedict seemed annoyed when I steered the conversation back to art; I think he was disappointed that I had no interest in sharing his bile.

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©2014 David Glenn Rinehart