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Weak XXXVIII

18 September 2019

No. 6,832 (cartoon)

I’ll love you fornever!

Our love is neverlasting!

19 September 2019

The Washington Monument

The Washington Monument just reopened to the public today after three years of repairs. Selena asked me to publish a recent photograph of the District of Columbia’s biggest phallic symbol, so I just did.

20 September 2019

(Not) The Oldest Mall

Whilst visiting scenic Buffalo, Clarissa pointed out the hulking, empty shell of the oldest mall in the United States. I’ve never wanted to photograph a dead mall; anything that’s dead is just too easy to photograph. I thought this one might be different, though, given its history.

After ninety seconds of research, I discovered that Clarissa was wrong; it’s merely the oldest mall “within the region” whatever those weasel words mean.

I put my camera away after making a photographic sketch for a project that I’ll never do; visual clichés bore me ...

21 September 2019

The Shower of My Nightmares

Becca stopped to urinate at every scenic vista she encountered on during our stroll along the Niagara River; that’s what dogs do. I, on the other hand, chose to explore a large urination chamber in the park building. That’s where I discovered the shower of my nightmares.

I recognized it immediately: the dimly lit, curtainless stall, the moldy, cracked tiles, and the fetid, blocked drain. The only difference was that I was awake, fully clothed, and not standing in puddles of feces and urine. And unlike in my nightmares, I was not anxious and not in trouble.

I don’t think about my anxiety dreams very much. Even while sleeping I’m dimly aware that no one stole all of my cameras, no one is really out to get me, and my rubbery phone covered in broken glass will be just fine at sunrise. I’ve never discussed this with anyone, but my theory is that my waking life is almost free of stress and anxiety, so my subconscious mind creates the drama that I rarely experience while I’m happily working at nothing all day.

Doberman Dung

Dr. Uebbing and I were perambulating along Niagara Falls Boulevard when I spotted the severed end of a squirrel’s tail.

“What do you think happened to the rest of the squirrel? I asked.

Chris pointed to the dark, snarling canine specter behind the fence.

“If that rodent isn’t Doberman dung yet it will be soon,” she replied.

I can’t think of many reasons I’d ever want to live with a drooling, flea-bitten dog, but I have to admit that at least the ones who know a thing or two about rodent control aren’t completely useless.

23 September 2019

Soft on Csrime

Federal Bureau of Investigation statistics show that law enforcement officers arrest an average of six thousand wee criminals under the age of ten every year, but those are just the teeny criminals who get caught. I’m afraid lenient authorities are fanning the flames of the crime wave plague by ignoring the growing menace

Recently, an Orlando Police Department cop arrested a couple of six-year-old brawlers on battery charges; he used handcuffs to prevent more violence as well as for his safety. Criminal coddlers protested because the hoodlums were ostensibly cute, so Orlando Rolón, the police chief, fired the brave officer.

That’s how gangs start and violent crime waves spread. I’m sure news of the officers firing was all over the playground within an hour. I won’t be surprised to read news reports of the juvenile miscreants breaking kneecaps with iron bars now that they know they can terrorize with impunity.

People call me paranoid when I don’t let an unknown kid within two meters of me, but I don’t care. I’ll never forget the title of Andy Grove’s autobiography, Only the Paranoid Survive.

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©2019 David Glenn Rinehart