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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak XXX

nothing

23 July 2016

gratuitous image

No. 583 (cartoon)

You see where this is going, don’t you?

I can’t imagine.

You’ve got it coming.

24 July 2016

Drinking and Driving Down the Champs-Élysées

I pay attention to professional cycling for about one day a year, and today is that day: Chris Froome won the Tour de France again. (I wonder if his name was a factor? After all, it does rhyme with “zoom” and “vroom.”)

I only ride my bike to get from here to there and back again; I can’t imagine what it’s like to have his ability to drink champagne whilst pedaling down the Champs-Élysées. Every time I’ve tried drinking while driving it’s always ended in tears, broken cups, and coffee stains everywhere. Froome’s ability to quaff champagne without it bubbling over is perhaps the most remarkable athletic achievement I’ve ever seen. Why, I bet with the right amount of thirstiness he could even uncork a bottle of Saint-Émilion while speeding down the steep descent of the Côte de la Comella at a hundred and twenty kilometers and hour; that’s just the kind of athlete he is.

25 July 2016

The Allure of Tepid Endoplasm

Sonja’s latest romance is over. The brief relationship followed an obvious trajectory. Or, more accurately, a trajectory that was obvious to everyone but her.

For the nth time, she became infatuated with a rich, handsome man with the IQ of a rock. And speaking of bad metaphors such as a flying rock being surprised when it hits the ground, Sonja was shocked—shocked!—when she discovered that there was nothing but tepid endoplasm beneath the appealing façade of her most recent perfect partner.

I’m not criticizing Sonja for her repeated failure to learn from her mistakes, especially since I sometimes like to repeat the same rewarding mistakes over and over again.

26 July 2016

Breasts in Animal Units

When I think of women’s breasts—which is what hopelessly hetero guys like me do from time to time—I don’t think of cute, furry animals. That may or may not be because I’m not Japanese.

Genie, a Japanese “intimate apparel maker,” published a practical guide to help people appreciate the burden women bear depending on the size of their breasts. A-cup? Imagine two chipmunks. (Or not.) C-cup? “One newborn polar bear cub.” (Everyone needs an editor, and it’s unclear whether it’s one bear per breast or one bruin chopped in half.) And when it comes to F-cups, we’re looking at “a three-month-old Persian kitten.” Or maybe two, depending on variable variables.

I think this visual analogy merits photographic interpretation, but I’m too lazy to wrangle wildlife despite such a rewarding field of visual inquiry.

27 July 2016

Hinckley for President!

John Hinckley tried to assassinate Ronald Reagan in 1981 but only winged him. Idiot. His unrequited love for Jodie Foster resulted in over three and a half years in a psychiatric institution.

His larger vision, however, led to a grassroots campaign to elect him as the president of the United States. The rationale was simple: he’s had a shot at the man; let’s give him a shot at the job. And that led to the popular cry, “Free Hinckley: he deserves another chance.”

And finally, the long-awaited day arrived. Today, in fact. US district judge Paul Friedman announced that Hinckley would be freed next month.

2016 is a presidential election year. Coincidence? I think not.

Hinckley for president! Americans could do worse, and probably will.

28 July 2016

Platinumfish

A silverfish is a small, wingless insect, and a goldfish is, well, a goldfish. I’ve searched high and low, but there appears to be no such thing as a platinumfish. That’s a vacuum that needs to be filled, so I plan on spending a few minutes doing just that.

I lack the technical skills to make even a crude sketch, so I’ll describe the beast. That’s probably the best approach; filling in the details with imagination instead of pixels is a more rewarding approach.

I’ll start with a striped, furry body; everyone likes those. Instead of a traditional head, I’ll graft on a huge lobster claw with three eyes. Staying with the theme of three, I’m planning on giving it three legs, one in front and two is back. I’ll use rear half of a rattlesnake as a retractable front leg. I’ll attach two huge, muscular frog legs with webbed feet in back for maximum mobility. Finally, I’ll add a garish baboon derrière even though I’m a chromophobe.

Et voilà! The platinumfish!

29 July 2016

To Whom It May Concern

I recently came across John Cage’s 1961 book, Silence: Lectures and Writings, and discovered the dedication after several foreplay pages:

To Whom It May Concern

That was so brilliant I stopped reading then and there; I knew the rest of it couldn’t be that good.

Stare.

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©2016 David Glenn Rinehart

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