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Weak XLVI

12 November 2013

No. 832 (cartoon)

Who are you trying to fool?

Myself.

13 November 2013

Life’s Little Mysteries

The room was full of thick, maroon smoke that smelled like fresh ice. I saw the thing’s shadow through the clouds, but not the thing itself. Later, I couldn’t differentiate hallucinations from what I used to think was reality.

I savor life’s little mysteries.

14 November 2013

Creepy Chef

I was walking down a street in Alameda when I saw him: the creepy chef. Actually, it was a sculpture of a caricature. The stereotypical Italian cook featured beady eyes set in a rubbery face, missing teeth, and a grotesquely distended abdomen. Why the owner of the purportedly Italian restaurant stationed this freakish statue outside of her front door, this I do not know.

15 November 2013

Brianna is a Fellow?!

I met Brianna at Luka’s party tonight; she said that she was a fellow at the University of California Something or Other Center.

“How curious,” I replied. “In your black dress, you don’t look like a fellow at all.”

I love living in Sans Frisco!

16 November 2013

With Ducks, Even

I was cycling through Golden Gate Park after dark tonight under a full moon when I noticed that it was time to urinate. I leaned my bike against a tree on the shore of Stow Lake and proceeded to enjoy one of the most meditative and rewarding moonlight experiences a mammal can have. With ducks, even.

I feel sorry for people who only micturate in smelly little rooms.

17 November 2013

About My Dog

Manuela came all the way from the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg to San Francisco. Of course! Anyone who can afford a plane ticket passes through here sooner or later.

I fired up the espresso machine when she arrived at my studio, then started to get reacquainted.

“How’s your dog?” she asked.

“Manuela!” I replied. “You know I don’t have a dog; I’ve never had a dog.”

“Yes, of course I know that,” she responded while rolling her eyes in a dramatic, Germanic sort of way. “It’s just one of those polite questions you ask people, innit?”

18 November 2013

Too Important to be Left to Chance

I sometimes use random numbers in my alleged art pieces. I employ a random number generator that’s not very good. In fact, it’s atrocious: the first “random” number it always generates is .7302750247. Not random at all, really, but close enough for art.

I’m obviously not too serious about random numbers, but Robert Coveyou certainly was. He’s the hombre who said, “The generation of random numbers is too important to be left to chance.”

I wish I knew what he meant, but I can’t ask him since he’s been rather dead for many years.

19 November 2013

Break It Up

McDonald’s “restaurants” serve cheap food by not paying most of their employees even subsistence wages. Instead, some of the company’s managers urge their miserable underlings to seek government support to augment their measly salaries.

I don’t want to suggest that the McDonald’s corporate officers are an uncaring lot; they’re clearly not. If they weren’t considerate of their peons’ well-being, they wouldn’t have provided this helpful advice on how to survive on starvation wages.

“Break it up: Breaking food into pieces often results in eating less and still feeling full.”

That’s generous guidance on how how to exist on an insufficient income, and a fine example of corporate munificence.

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©2013 David Glenn Rinehart