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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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Weak XIV


3 April 2018

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No. 344 (cartoon)

What would you say to another drink?

I want you; be mine.

4 April 2018

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Nasim Aghdam’s Brilliant Marketing

There’s a good reason Nasim Aghdam didn’t fit the usual profile of a terrorist or mass murderer: she was neither.

The thirty-eight-year-old woman walked into the offices of the local company that hosted her videos on the Internet to complain about “close-minded employees.” She did this by shooting them with a pistol. Ask any mass murderer: the pistol’s not an effective psychopath’s weapon of choice, especially since AR-15 assault rifles are relatively inexpensive and readily available.

Fortunately, she wasn’t a very good shot and only managed to wing three people before making her only kill of the day: herself. (It really is hard to miss at such close range with an eager target.)

It’s too bad she probably never met my late friend Jim Marshall. Jim was passionate about his photography; he would have explained that the trick to such negotiations is to use a gun without pulling the trigger. Such a strategy still carries considerable risks. Jim spent time behind bars for pulling a loaded gun on a shit-fer-brains “art director” who cut up his original film to see what a collage might look like.

Had Aghdam taken a more prudent approach, she still might be making her crappy videos such as, “Health Risks of Anal Sex.” To her credit, she more than compensated for her lack of talent with her clever marketing. There’s at least one mass killing a day in this country on average, but she had the brilliant idea of being a beautiful Persian woman shooting up a popular, well-known company’s headquarters instead of yet another armed robbery in an inner city liquor store.

5 April 2018

This is Such an Insane Headline!

The San Francisco Comical pretends that it’s still the San Francisco Chronicle, but it most certainly ain’t. It’s just a mediocre commercial Internet site that runs on advertising revenue, not reportage.

“Tahoe locals post photos of insane whiteout conditions” is a great example of what passes for alleged journalism these days.

First, “locals take photos” means that that the publisher doesn’t pay the staff photographers. (He fired them.) Instead, members of the public send in their images to be used for free.

And then there’s the hyperbolic, irrational headline about “insane whiteout conditions.” I suppose that’s in contrast to “rational, compos mentis whiteout conditions.” It’s evident that ascribing lunacy to any object and situation grabs eyeballs and mouse clicks, e.g., “23 crazy facts you should know about Chick-fil-A” and “These 25 companies are 'hiring like crazy' right now.”

I’m not sure if it’s an algorithm or an idiot concocting the insane headlines; it’s a crazy line!

6 April 2018

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Thirteen Pairs of Conjoined Chopstick Pairs

I don’t know what to make of my most recent work, Thirteen Pairs of Conjoined Chopstick Pairs. This is the mth or nth time I have photographed things that appear to be identical at first glance but clearly aren’t after the sixth or seventh glance. Am I mining a rich aesthetic vein or unimaginatively repeating myself?


7 April 2018

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Edward Snowdon at the Internet Archive

Edward Snowdon beamed into the Internet Archive from Moscow this afternoon and/or tomorrow morning for him. That sounds more technically interesting than it was. He was just using a live satellite broadcast instead of transmogrifying here using the new Russian particle accelerator.

He talked to some six hundred people in my living room, which also serves as an auditorium on such occasions. He basically told us that we’re a nation of ignorant sheep ruled over by would-be tyrants who pay tens of thousands of smart people like him tons of money to build the tools to manage a proper dictatorship. I already knew that, but I appreciated hearing him say it again so eloquently.

8 April 2018

Creepy Old Dog

Stephanie was complaining to Sarah about the creepy—if not downright lecherous—bartender at the party last night.

“He can’t even hand me a drink without leering and using some salacious double entendre,” she complained.

“Don’t worry about a hoary, pathetic guy like him,” she replied. “He’s just like a senile old dog that chases cars with no intention of ever catching them.”


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©2018 David Glenn Rinehart

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