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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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Weak XLV

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5 November 2015

gratuitous image

No. 6,453 (cartoon)

You said you’d wait until the end of time to be together with me.

That was last week; things are different now.

6 November 2015

A Macabre, Bacon-flavored Tale

I enjoyed the smell of bacon wafting through my studio window this afternoon; there’s something captivating about smell of carcinogenic fat sizzling on my neighbor’s open grill. After a while, though, the smell became too distracting, so I went for a nice bike ride along the coast.

When I returned, seven police cars and two ambulances blocked off my street. The woman who lives a few doors away told me that the guy who was housesitting for my neighbors had killed and dismembered a one-year-old girl and cooked her on the barbecue.

What kind of person would do that? A fictitious person, that’s who. I just made that up. Who doesn’t love a macabre, bacon-flavored tale?

Me, for one. I think such sixth-grade stories designed to appall are, by definition, juvenile. On the other hand, Olivia bet me ten dollars that I wouldn’t publish anything that stupid, so I did. As a result, I’m enjoying the Rainier Ale and crisps that I bought with the money from the wager.

7 November 2015

Exactly This

Iris’s lawyer gave her legal advice that began with the sentence, “Say, in your own words, exactly this.”

Nice!

8 November 2015

Abraham’s Résumé

Abraham has a résumé that’s exactly four words long.

Former infant. Future corpse.

I shall plagiarize it in its entirety in the unlikely event I ever need a résumé of my own. Since I’ve done just fine without one for almost sixty years, I doubt that day will ever come.

9 November 2015

It Lightninged!

I know almost nothing about meteorology, so I have no idea why it’s extraordinarily rare to experience a thunderstorm in San Francisco. We had such a storm this morning, though, and I quite enjoyed it.

Nathaniel found the occasion newsworthy enough to call me with a weather update.

“It just lightninged here,” he reported.

I thanked him for the news, and for adding a new verb to my vocabulary.

10 November 2015

Hirsute Critters

I was having a slow afternoon, so I reached for the latest edition of The Journal of Experimental Biology. I wasn’t disappointed; Guillermo Amador and David Hu presented some large, hairy numbers.

They counted the number of hairs on a squirrel and on a honeybee and came up with the same number, three million. Despite that impressive total, the bees are not among the more hirsute of insects. The researchers reported that moths and butterflies each have almost ten billion hairs. I have no idea why they included the “almost” instead of rounding up to the nearest billion. I suppose that’s why they’re scientists and I’m not.

In contrast, the human head is sparsely populated, with around a hundred thousand hairs or so.

Sadly, the article gave no indication of how many hairs on a hare. Perhaps they’ll address that notable omission in a future volume. Or maybe they already have. I’d like to have that information, but not enough to investigate.

11 November 2015

Whack Gallery

I’ll never open an art gallery, an irrelevance to me since the Internet matured. But, if I did, I’d call it Whack Gallery. Anyone who bought anything there would have to admit, “It’s out of Whack!”

Stare.

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©2015 David Glenn Rinehart

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