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17 December 2017

No. 7.687 (cartoon)

I have a lot of Scotch in me.

That would explain all of the Bunnahabhain bottles.

18 December 2017

Our Dark, Fetid Future

I could write volumes about the cretins and barbarians who’ve hijacked the government, but even I have better things to do than that. I will note, however, that in one case—and probably only one—they’re not hypocrites.

The vandals at the Environmental Protection [sic] Agency are doing away with all the pesky regulations that prevent freedom lovers from breathing polluted air, enjoying carcinogens as one of the major food groups, and swilling sewage. As if to lead by example, the water fountains at the agency’s headquarters now dispense a black, fecal sludge rich in excrement with strong Escherichia coli undertones.

Thanks to Robert Maguire for his photo (copyrighted very much indeed); now all of us can get a glimpse of our dark, fetid future. It stinks.

19 December 2017

Distill and Dominate

I’ll begin with Frank Zappa’s prescient observation. “You can’t be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It helps if you have some kind of a football team or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer.”

After decades of hyperbole, today is the first day I actually believe human beings will conquer the universe, starting with our very own galaxy. Yesterday morning, the boffins aboard the International Space Station received a huge shipment of supplies, including some of the fundamentals for brewing beer in orbit.

Once we can create an infinite supply of alcohol in space, there’ll be no way to stop us from spreading everywhere like the virus we are.

20 December 2017

Reefer Sadness

Oh dear, we have a minor calamity here at the Internet Archive, where we have no locks on our community refrigerator. I’m not sure if there’s a correlation, but someone nicked BZ’s lox. It’s like the tragedy of the commons, but it’s not.

Aaron suggested we could put an end to the thievery by simply affixing a LICKED label to deter miscreants. He’s one of the smartest people here—everyone is—but I don’t think he thought it all the way through.

“Guys are always asking me to lick their food before they eat it,” Rosaline said. “I’d put UNLICKED stickers on my lunch.”

“I think the stickers are a bad idea,” I replied. “If the reefer was full of licked and unlicked food, the thieves would have a smorgasbord.”

I’m not worried about the food pirates; having a bit of mold on all of my food seems to be an effective deterrent.

21 December 2017

The Oldest Baby in the World

Maybe Tina Gibson gave birth to a twenty-four-year-old baby last month; maybe she didn’t. The answer depends on whether I was a minute old or nine months old when I was born. It’s a question of great interest to religious fanatics and of no interest to me.

Gibson’s baby spent twenty-four years as a frozen embryo. I don’t care how old the little critter was at birth, but I’m fascinated by the idea of a freezer full of unborn humans. If I had that many embryos, I’d open a bar and sell embryo cocktails at a thousand dollars each. People with more money than brains—of whom there are many here in Sans Frisco—would buy them.

22 December 2017

Idaho’s Cratering

Yesterday I bought a huge bag of potatoes from Idaho. I have no reason to doubt the tubers’ provenance; there’s little else for Idahoans to do except to grow their primary export.

There was dirt in the bottom of the bag and more dirt in the sink after I washed the potatoes. I was alarmed because this had to be dirt from Idaho. At some point, the earnest farmers will need to figure out how to export potatoes and not dirt or else they’ll turn the state into a huge crater. They’ll probably figure something out; everyone knows you can’t grow taters in bedrock.

This is my favorite kind of problem: one I won’t have to worry about until after I’m dead. And probably not even then, either.

23 December 2017

Deceptive Toothbrushes

Rosaline lives alone, so I asked her why she has five toothbrushes in her bathroom.

“Maybe I have the odd gentleman visitor,” she answered coyly.

“The best kind!” I replied. “An odd number or an even number?”

“None of your business,” she responded. “That’s why I have so many toothbrushes; I like to keep people guessing.”

Ah, the exciting life of the single artist!

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©2017 David Glenn Rinehart