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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

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5 November 2018

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No. 3,553 (cartoon)

I love loving you.

I love hating you.

Love is everywhere!

6 November 2018

Happily Ever After

Jasmin finally found the man of her dreams. It wasn’t easy. All the men to whom she was attracted turned out to be creeps, scoundrels, rogues, weasels, miscreants, and good-for-nothing nogoodniks. She persisted, though, and finally found true love.

She claims she’s found a partner for life, but I’m not sure if that’s entirely accurate since the guy has been dead since July. I didn’t inquire whether he was a cadaver and/or a revenant and/or a ghost; that’s too personal. I didn’t even ask his name; it’s just bad manners to want to know that about a kitten or a relationship that’s less than two weeks old.

7 November 2018

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Enter Here

Florian opined that my snapshot of a doughnut shop’s street sign was one of the most sexually-stimulating photographs he’d ever seen. The image featured a donut, the company’s logo, and the words, “Enter Here.”


He explained that seeing the words “Enter Here” superimposed over the donut hole fueled a torrent of salacious, sexually-explicit fantasies. He later admitted that any imperative word or phrase in combination with a depiction of any opening or aperture was enough to send him into a licentious frenzy.

I don’t know how to interpret that. No, that’s untrue; I do know what’s going on in the cauliflower between Florian’s ears but I’m too polite to say so.

8 November 2018

Bad Music Can Be Fatal

I hate to be insensitive and make light of tragedies, but ... never mind; that fib ain’t foolin’ nobody.

A gunman murdered a dozen people at a country and western bar last night. Here’s an updated mass killing tally from the last couple of years:

Country and western gatherings: 70
Death metal gathering: 98
Disco gathering: 49

And that’s from just four atrocities. I wonder what someone who did a modicum of research would find? I think the problem is obvious: bad music can be fatal.

9 November 2018

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Lunch with Norton I

Norton I, Emperor of the United States, Protector of Mexico, joined my learned colleagues and me for lunch today at the Internet Archive. I found that most curious since he died in 1880. More proof, as if any was needed, than anyone who’s anyone eventually visits the Archive.

10 November 2018

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Rose-Coloured Archival Glasses

I told Rosalind, one of the engineers here at the Internet Archive, that I had no idea how she and her fellow developers kept thirty-some thousand hard drives constantly spinning and talking to each other.

“No one does,” she replied, “that’s what keeps things interesting.”

“Hearing that makes me especially grateful that I’m a worthless artist who doesn’t need to deal with all of that magnetism,” I cheerfully observed.

“Must be nice to look at all of this digital spaghetti through your rose-colored glasses,” she grumbled.

I don’t waste much energy thinking for myself, so I was most grateful for Rosalind’s accidental gift. I’m a chromophobe, but not a fanatical one, and the concept of anything-colored anything simply never occurred to me.

Once I got over my color blindness, it only took me a thirtieth of a second to make Rose-Coloured Archival Glasses. (I added a redundant “u” to “colored” to be pretentious.

And with that, it’s back to my wonderful grey world.

11 November 2018

The Human Pestilence

The overpaid bureaucrats at the World Wildlife Fund just issued a new report. If the would-be environmentalists do something other than publishing yet another study, it certainly hasn’t made the news.

The most recent portent of imminent biological Armageddon is that we humans—I assume no one else reads this drivel—have killed three out of every five mammals, birds, fish, and reptiles in the last fifty years. And with hardly any exertion!

The study is obviously worthless. Only a small percentage of mammals, birds, fish, and reptiles live to celebrate their fiftieth birthday, so I’m guessing that probably ninety percent of ’em would have died in the last fifty years even without the human pestilence.


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©2018 David Glenn Rinehart

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