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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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26 June 2015

gratuitous image

No. 5,308 (cartoon)

I feel serene.

You’re drunk.

I am serene.

27 June 2015

Ask the Nearest Reactionary

Seymor is in a great mood, and claims that he can’t swing a dead poodle this morning without hitting a happy homosexual after the United States Supreme Court legalized same sex marriage.

As for me, I don’t see what all the hubbub is about; it seems like just another sunny day in San Francisco, really. And given that most people aren’t that imaginative, I suspect that most monogamous marriages are same sex marriages sooner than later.

The real reason Seymor is delighted with the decision is because of how apoplectic it made some of the haters. Here’s a relevant rant.

“Who ever thought that intimacy and spirituality (whatever that means) were freedoms? And if intimacy is, one would think Freedom of Intimacy is abridged rather than expanded by marriage. Ask the nearest hippie.”

Those were Antonin Scalia’s words, one of the Supreme Court justices upset with his learned colleagues’ ruling. My, what a bitter, nasty little man.

Schadenfreude really is one of the best entertainment values around!

28 June 2015

Nondescript as Described

Rodney offered me some bland cherries he thought were completely unremarkable. What a salesperson! He was telling the truth, though; they really were just as nondescript as he described.

29 June 2015

Wasting Time on Bacon

I noticed a curious sight whilst cycling down Sixteenth Street today: dozens of people were queued on the sidewalk waiting to buy a bacon sandwich.

But why?

Bacon sandwiches aren’t particularly difficult to make; they all taste like salty hog fat, hence their popularity. The perplexing question is why anyone would waste twenty minutes of her or his short life waiting in line to get into a San Francisco eatery when there are over seven thousand of them from which to choose?

The obvious answer is that people are sheep. Come to think of it, though, that doesn’t make sense since sheep don’t eat pig flesh. But since it doesn’t make sense to wait to get into a restaurant either, perhaps the two nonsenses cancel each other out.

I’m done thinking about this; I’m wasting too much time wondering why other people waste too much time.

30 June 2015

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Someone’s Impostering Me!

The local chapter of the American Alpine Club is touting the purportedly inspirational tale of how one of its members did a lot of climbing after losing two segments of his index finger. I didn’t really follow the logic of how that would motivate me to become a paying member of the club; that’s probably why I’ve never been the member of any club that I didn’t found.

The theme of the fundraising campaign is, “no excuses,” which is complete rubbish. First, I’ve gone perhaps a half a century with only one third of my right index finger, and I know that getting by on nine fingers requires no athletic prowess whatsoever. Having said that, I use my lack of a relatively inconsequential digit as an almost daily excuse to avoid unnecessary work. “No limit to excuses,” that’s what I say.

For reasons I can’t imagine, the American Alpine Club buried the only interesting part of the story deep in the advertisement’s text.

Tommy Caldwell lost most of his left pointer finger in a freak table-saw-fight accident in 2001.

Freak table-saw-fight?! Who else but a freak would fight with a table saw? Although I generally abhor violence, even I must admit that an altercation with table saws would make for interesting viewing for a minute or two.

1 July 2015

Several Suckers a Second

The latest edition of The Routledge International Handbook of Ignorance Studies is out, and I can’t wait not to read it. After all, how can I read a book on ignorance and still remain ignorant? I think it’s a positive development that I’m ignorant of the answer.

Ruth, who read a brief review in the newspaper, shared the publication’s conclusion with me. “The realm of ignorance is so vast that no one volume can fully cover it all.” The editors probably publish that in every edition to make sure there’s a market for the next one.

There’s big money in ignorance. As P. T. Barnum never said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.” Given the huge increase in the human population—as well as what I see all around me—I’d wager that we’re up to several suckers a second.


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©2015 David Glenn Rinehart

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