Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak XLVIII

26 November 2021

No. 4,463 (cartoon)

May I ask you a stupid question?

No.

I just did anyway.

27 November 2021

Now Hear This!

Now hear this, you foolish and senseless people!

Did that get your attention?

Isn’t that a great way to start a little piece if you’re trying to make friends and influence people?! If that sounds downright biblical, it’s because it is. I copied that from Jeremiah, whoever he was. Christians, Jews, and Muslims regard him as a prophet, so I figure I can’t go wrong by plagiarizing him, especially since he’s been out of copyright for millennia.

And that’s enough for today, you foolish and senseless people! As you were ...

28 November 2021

Vinyl and Cow Dung

I’m enjoying listening to Camper Van Beethoven, a very fine musical ensemble indeed. Some of the digitized recordings were obviously made from vinyl records; I can tell from all the hissing and popping and scratches.

Beats me why Kids These Days are using turntables and darkrooms. I won’t be surprised when they start cooking with coal and dried cow dung. Oh well, that’s their problem, not mine.

29 November 2021

The One About the Showgirl

Gertrude called me and asked me to tell her one of the best jokes she’s ever heard—the one about George Burns and Madonna Louise—because she forgot the ending. I was happy to oblige: “Nothing personal, but the last showgirl I slept with stole my wallet.” Here’s what happened after I delivered the punch line:

Nothing.

Dead air.

We shouldn’t have revisited the “great” joke. I should have let her remember it as one of the funniest things she ever heard instead of realizing it was a stinker.

I forgot the lesson I learned from W. C. Fields’ 1933 film, International House. I tried to watch it when I was in high school at Interlochen, but had to leave the theatre because I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe. (I can’t remember, but marijuana may have been involved.) I made the mistake of watching it again decades later and discovered it was a mediocre movie.

Some memories are best left preserved in golden amber. That’s one of those lessons I keep relearning.

30 November 2021

A Ton of Cat Hair

I took care of Alison and Rob’s cats, Leo and Poppy, for a few weeks; we had a long, lovely visit. Catnip and bourbon were involved; good times!

Alison reported upon her return that she vacuumed up “a ton of cat hair.” Although she’s not prone to exaggerate, I think she was taking liberties with the truth. One clue was that she didn’t specify tonnes or short tons. More importantly, I don’t recall seeing any cat hair in her flat, but then again I never wear glasses unless I’m at my computer monitors.

I wish she really did have tons or tonnes of cat hair for me to work with. I’d buy me the biggest fedora I could find, channel Joseph Beuys, and go to town! Or maybe go to nature. I’m not going to waste any time contemplating possibilities since having a ton of cat hair is like a lifetime supply of real Rainier Ale: too good to possibly be true.

1 December 2021

Burning N95 Mask

Sometimes a burning N95 mask is not what it seems. Take that photo of mine, for example. (If you do take it, please delete it, burn it, and bury it (in no particular order.)) (Can I use parentheses within parentheses? (Never mind, I just did. Twice.)) Meanwhile, back at my photo of the burning mask ...

Today it looks like the kind of pathetic protest photograph a stupid teenager might make. I can say that with some certainty since I made such dreck when I was a stupid teenager.

But no. Looks can be deceiving; that’s one of the many beautiful things about the medium of photography.

I made that photo exactly three years ago today when Coronarama was just a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream. It is indeed a crappy photograph I discovered in an old camera I’m about to sell; that’s why I’m only showing it now. At the time, I was celebrating the end of the fire season when I couldn’t step outside without wearing a mask to survive in the air viscous with wildfire smoke. I figured I’d never need to wear a mask again. Joke’s on me, innit?

The moral of this ramble is that you don’t have to be a stupid teenager to think like one. Or maybe this is amoral babble. Ask your shaman because I ain’t got one.

2 December 2021

A Dangerous Precedent

John Croucher, the former head chef working at the Crewe Arms in Hinton-in-the-Hedges, Northamptonshire, may be headed to jail for the crime of being an incompetent cook. (I know “Hinton-in-the-Hedges, Northamptonshire” sounds like some nonsense I fabricated, but I saw it on the Internet and it couldn’t be there if it wasn’t true, no?)

Croucher was convicted of failing to cook mince—whatever that is—properly and for not taking the food’s temperature before it was served to a church congregation dinner.

To quote the president, “C’mon, man!” Who hadn’t cooked food improperly? And who takes the temperature of dinner dishes before they serve them?

Having just defended Croucher, I’ll admit the prosecution’s case wasn’t without some merit since the shepherd’s pie in question poisoned thirty-two, one fatally. But still ...

Prison overcrowding is a real concern, and there just aren’t enough beds behind bars for all the horrible cooks in the world. When I was in my twenties, I made a “burrito” by wrapping canned refried beans in a tortilla and globbing some melted cheese on top. I figure that’s at least a ten-day sentence for disgusting cuisine right there.

I shall conclude this little rant on a positive note. Things could have been much worse at the church supper; only carnivores were poisoned. I’m surprised one of the vegetarians at the dinner didn’t suffer a fatal smugness overdose.

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak
©2021 David Glenn Rinehart