Stare.
free (and worth it) subscription
nothing
   1996
   1997
   1998
   1999
   2000
   2001
   2002
   2003
   2004
   2005
   2006
   2007
   2008
   2009
   2010
   2011
   2012
   2013
   2014
   2015
   2016
   2017
nothing
   Art
   Cartoons
   Film
   Music
   Photography
   Miscellaneous
nothing
About
Contact
nothing
Legal

   
 
An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak XXXVII

nothing

10 September 2015

gratuitous image

No. 5,008 (cartoon)

I didn’t see it coming.

At least you saw it go.

11 September 2015

Attack on America, Day One (rerun)

Oh dear, big jets are crashing like flies, gigantic kamikaze flies full of tons of explosive jet fuel. I have no idea of how to incorporate the former New York skyscrapers into the mangled metaphor, so I won’t.

This seems like a normal day, mostly, even though the most popular word on the radio today is “unprecedented.” Why commentators feel compelled to continually remind listeners that this is the first time in the last few hundred years that several large jets have been hijacked and kamikazeed into buildings, this I cannot understand.

Right now, San Francisco’s finest journalists are at SFO asking grieving friends and relatives of the commandeered jets the same probing question: “Now that you know your loved one(s) is/are charcoal and ash, what are your feelings?” Although I think it goes without saying, the journalist then thrusts a camera and microphone into the victim’s face. Can’t lose with contemporary journalistic practices!

I’ve also heard reports about the “rescue” teams and their cadaver-sniffing dogs that I won’t repeat today. I can’t add anything that would make today seem even more macabre.

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive blew up; this is a rerun from 11 September 2001 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

12 September 2015

The One About the Greek and the Italian (rerun)

“Did I tell you the joke about the Greek and the Italian?” I asked Francesca.

“You didn’t tell it to me once; you told it to me twice,” Francesca replied. “Don’t you remember anything?”

“I don’t need to remember anything,” I replied, “that’s why I keep a daily notebook on my computer.”

“Then why don’t you make a note that you’ve told me that inane joke so I never have to hear it again?” Francesca suggested.

That sounded like a reasonable suggestion; here’s the story.

So anyway, a Greek and an Italian were sitting in a bar debating who had the superior culture.

The Greek guy says, “Well, we have the Parthenon.”

Arching his eyebrows, the Italian replies, “We have the Coliseum.”

The Greek retorts, “We Greeks gave birth to advanced mathematics.”

The Italian, nodding agreement, says, “But we conquered most of the known world with the Roman Empire.”

And that’s when the Greek plays his trump card, “We invented sex.”

The Italian shrugs, then replies, “Maybe, but it was the Italians who introduced it to women!”

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive went higgledy-piggledy; this is a rerun from 12 September 2005 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

13 September 2015

Can’t Have It Both Ways (rerun)

I asked Sid’s son Gerrit what he wanted to be when he grew up.

“I want to be an artist when I grow up,” he replied.

“Sorry pal,” I explained, “you can’t have it both ways.”

Gerrit looked confused, but I’m sure he’ll figure things out. Unless, of course, he doesn’t. Some people do, and some people don’t.

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive melted down; this is a rerun from 13 September 2010 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

14 September 2015

Artists’ Activities (rerun)

Sid lamented how lonely life was in his studio, so I passed along Gerrit’s advice: artists should have one activity they do alone, and another with company.

“Like drinking and sex!” Sid said with a smile.

“I suppose so,” I replied.

I was tempted to ask which activity he enjoyed alone, but I didn’t. I’ve always been well served by never asking questions best left unanswered.

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive rattled apart; this is a rerun from 14 September 2007 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

15 September 2015

Remembering Elva Shorts (rerun)

On very rare occasions, I wonder what happened to Elva Shorts, someone I haven’t seen since we were in the same fourth-grade class. Our relationship involved tormenting each other. Sometimes I got the better of her, but she always held the trump card and she knew it.

When pressed, Elva ran to the slide or the swings, put her legs over a bar, then hung upside down until her dress slid above her waist. There it was for all to see: girls’ underwear! At that age, that was like cotton kryptonite. Whenever that happened, I had no choice but to run away in terror and disgust.

I’ve been looking for Elva Shorts, and can’t find her on the Internet. Does that mean she doesn’t exist?

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive went kerflooey; this is a rerun from 15 September 2003 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

16 September 2015

The Devil’s Avocado (rerun)

I’m having a most tedious lunch with Gerrit. I can’t make a simple, declarative statement without starting an argument. In short, Gerrit’s being really annoying, just like I usually am. Although I knew better than to acknowledge that he was bothering me, I did anyway.

“Do you have to dispute everything I say?” I asked.

“Don’t take it personally,” Gerrit replied, “I’m just playing devil’s avocado.”

Gerrit became visibly frustrated when I refused to acknowledge his malapropism; I was surprised that my gambit worked. I hope Gerrit learned his lesson, and won’t try again to see if he can be even more irritating than me.

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive imploded; this is a rerun from 16 September 2006 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

17 September 2015

Is There Ain’t Nothing? (rerun)

Rebecca and I were enjoying Rainier Ale, one of the simplest drinks, when she ambushed me with a trick question: “Can there really be nothing?”

I responded with obfuscation, to wit, “Don’t believe that there’s nothing that can be known about nothing, because without nothing there couldn’t be something. That very somethingness must exist against a backdrop of nothingness, or else how could we distinguish between the two?”

“Cut the codswallop, David,” Rebecca responded. “Is there is or is there ain’t nothing?”

“Our empty glasses provide irrefutable, empirical evidence of nothingness,” I replied. “Would you like another drink?”

She did like another drink, and that was the end of that tedious conversation.

[My original entry for today was lost on 18 September when my hard drive melted down; this is a rerun from 17 September 2012 because I can’t remember what I originally wrote.]

Stare.

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak
©2015 David Glenn Rinehart

nothing nothing nothing nothing