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Weak XXII

28 May 2016

No. 866 (cartoon)

I wish I was dead.

May I help?

29 May 2016

A Bottle is a Glass

“Cheap red or cheap white?” Anastasia asked after I walked into her studio.

“Cheap red,” I replied. “It should go well with the spiced almonds I brought.”

Even though she was drinking a bottle of red wine by her console, she opened a second bottle and handed it to me. When I told her I only wanted a glass, at least to start with, she pointed out that a glass bottle is, by definition, a glass. She went on to explain that she was trying to simplify her life, and drinking wine from the bottle meant fewer dishes to wash. I suppose that saving ten seconds by not washing a wine glass could ultimately add a month or two to her life, but I haven’t done any calculations.

I immediately spotted the flaw in her logic: why would anyone wash a wine glass when one can simply rinse it out with the next glass of wine? Women in general and Anastasia in particular can be most enigmatic; I wouldn’t have it any other way.

30 May 2016

Unperformable Works

On those rare occasions when I have trouble sleeping, I reach for The British Journal of Aesthetics. That’s where I read Wesley Cray’s piece, Unperformable Works and the Ontology of Music. He suggests several categories, including music that’s biologically or physically impossible to play. As for the latter, he cites a Bull of Heaven composition that’s over a quindecillion years long. I’m not sure about Cray’s scholarship; I can’t see any reason the piece couldn’t be performed by generations of patient, dedicated musicians.

My favorite, though, is the logically impossible Tribute to I.F. Kilmister. It involves three musicians each playing louder than the other two. Too bad Lemmy’s dead; I bet he could have pulled it off.

31 May 2016

Say Nopes to Snopes

Snopes sounds like a bevy of beastly beasts from a Theodor Seuss Geisel story. It’s much worse than that, though.

Snopes is popularly known as the Urban Legends Reference Pages, and it is a horrible, horrible thing. The proprietors, Barbara and David Mikkelson, investigate every popular story they here then pronounce it to be true and/or false. In short, they’re trying to relegate us to the tedious, lifeless world of facts.

I’m not having it. If I decide to believe that the Cuban Coast Guard spotted the SS Cotopaxi long after it vanished in the Bermuda Triangle in 1925, that’s what I’m going to believe. That’s certainly my prerogative as an allegedly creative person.

Say nopes to Snopes, that’s what I say. That may just be my first quotable quote.

1 June 2016

My New Helipad

I got in a bit of trouble two months ago today when I announced that I’d received approval to build a helipad here on the roof of the Internet Archive. Jacques, l’homme d’argent, was annoyed by my plan since he was planning on installing solar panels on the roof. I defused the situation before he could get his baguette in a twist by suggesting he check the calendar.

I may have reached a procrastination high or low—I’m not sure which—by waiting for two months to describe this year’s April Fool’s hoax.

2 June 2016

Purple Pain

The Midwest Medical Examiner’s Office in Ramsey, Minnesota, confirmed today that Prince Rogers Nelson—known popularly by his middle name—died of fentanyl toxicity, or, in lay terms, a drug overdose. But what a drug!

Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid a hundred times stronger than garden-variety morphine, and fifty times more powerful than heroin. I knew this before I read about Nelson’s autopsy. Willy’s in the intensive care unit after a horrible motorcycle crash, and he’s got fentanyl patches as well as an opioid drip. Unlike Prince, medical professionals are controlling the dosage as well as the color.

Willy’s nurses were trying to be cheerful, macabre, or both, so they used felt pens to color Willy’s fentanyl patches purple, Prince’s favorite color. They added purple food coloring to the drip for good measure.

Willy was in a haze when I visited, albeit not a purple one. He’s in bad shape, but the nurses assured me he’s going to survive and leave the hospital in one piece. He’ll probably never ride his bike again. As for me, I’m waiting to get my first motorcycle until I’m diagnosed with an incurable, terminal disease.

3 June 2016

Icelandic Hygiene

Icelanders’ culture and customs are foreign to me. I suppose that’s why they’re foreigners, innit?

Go the Sundhöllin Public Baths, the only indoor pool in Reykjavik, and you’ll find some unusual hygiene instructions for men. Specifically, they’re asked to restrict to the use of hot air dryers to the hair on their heads. And more specifically, they’re asked not to use the appliances to dry their genitals.

That must be why so many Icelanders suffer from moldy genitalia, or so I’ve been told. I’ve never been to Iceland, and with fifteen-dollar beers I’m not certainly planning on it.

4 June 2016

The Onliest Boxer in History

“Live every day like it’s your last, because someday you’re going to be right.” Muhammad Ali was correct, and yesterday was his.

I’ve never been interested in displays of pugilism, but Ali was bigger than any boxing ring. I can’t think of any accolade that hasn’t been said dozens of times today, so I’ll just repeat a couple of my favorite Ali quotes and one of the few poems I’ve ever liked.

“It’s hard to be humble when you’re as great as I am.”

“I was the onliest boxer in history people asked questions like a senator.”

“I done something new for this fight. I wrestled with an alligator. I tussled with a whale. I handcuffed lightning, I thrown thunder in jail. Only last week I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick. I’m so mean I make medicine sick.”

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©2016 David Glenn Rinehart