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Weak XXXVIII
18 September 2020
No. 9,362 (cartoon)
I was feeling pretty good for a while.
What was it like?
I found the whole fiasco disturbing.
19 September 2020
The Quarantini
Ursula chided me for “dinking around in your ivory hole” and ignoring the horrific Coronarama misery outside my studio cocoon. I usually politely ignore the irrelevant critiques of my loving, well-intentioned friends, but this was a most unusual case.
She was right.
I paused my random number generator and went to work on a most formidable problem: what could I possibly do to mitigate the suffering of the millions of quarantined people in agonizing isolation under voluntary house arrest? That’s when I came up with what just might be my first epiphany of the day. I give you ...
Ingredients: any fine Islay whisky (I recommend Bunnahabhain.) ¡Muy importante: no ice!
Lovingly pour two shots of Scotch into a very heavy—for gravitas—clear glass tumbler. (Any good Islay whisky will do; I recommend Bunnahabhain.)
Pause.
Meditatively add one measure of Scotch.
Reflect.
Reverently incorporate one jigger of Scotch.
Contemplate.
Rapturously climax the drink with an exuberant splash of Scotch.
Et voilà!
“I give you” wasn’t a typo. I could patent the Quarantini, trademark it, license it, sell franchises, et cetera. Instead, I am putting my creation, the Quarantini, in the public domain as my gift to the world.
Prost! À votre santé!
20 September 2020
The Cycle Tracking Blues
Ross is dejected. He spent a thousand dollars on a fancy new watch that connects wirelessly to his phone, his computer, his car, the Internet, and possibly to his teakettle as well (I didn’t ask), but it didn’t live up to his expectations.
He’s surprised, but I’m not. This happens every few months. Every time there’s a new version of something he owns he’s the first one in line to buy it. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, he has enough money to do that. The pleasure of acquiring the shiny new thing never lasts an entire day.
He was excited that the new timepiece offered cycle tracking. He didn’t know what it did or how it worked, but anything that had to do with riding his bike had to be great, especially if it required the purchase of yet another electric gizmo to bolt on to his Lamborghini Cervélo P5X.
He discovered once he strapped the elegant doodad to his wrist that cycle tracking wouldn’t work with his ride or any other bicycle: it was for menstrual cycle tracking.
He was crestfallen, but not for long. He told me that he heard a rumor that Nikon would be releasing a new version of the company’s most expensive camera next month. It will have the identical digital sensor as the previous model (which Ross of course owns, but rarely touches), and thus offer no improvement in image quality.
Ross is obviously foolish to believe that some new possession will change his life for the better, but there is one positive aspect to his unbridled consumerism. Despite decades of failures and setbacks; he remains eternally optimistic that things will get better soon. I don’t know many people who take such comfort in their illusions.
21 September 2020
Planning Ahead
I have no idea what got into Nerissa’s knickers this afternoon, but she decided to generously provide unsought advice.
“You don’t spend enough time planning for the future,” she warned.
Unsolicited “help” is like love: the only sensible thing to do when you get it is to return it.
“Conversely,” I replied, “I think you’re overplanning during Coronarama since your life expectancy may only be a few weeks.”
I was quite pleased when she recognized my strategy and tacitly decided to call it a draw. She declared that I just might be right for once, and said she foresaw thirst on the horizon in five to ten minutes. I grabbed another bottle and my corkscrew and we lived happily ever after for half an hour.
22 September 2020
Not Completely Stupid
The autumnal equinox arrived on schedule—as if anything could affect that—at oh, seven-thirty this morning.
On a personal note, that means I was able to tolerate the hottest summer heat in the desert. I wasn’t sure if I could, or if I’d be reduced to cowering in a dark little refrigerated room.
The arbitrary number comforted me; the temperature never quite reached one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. That’s a patently ridiculous threshold since that’s just under 38C (C as in censible), the temperature scale used in what passes for the civilized world.
I initially thought it was completely stupid to take comfort in an almost random round number, but then I thunk again. If it’s completely stupid but it works, then it’s not completely stupid.
23 September 2020
Not a Bad Idea
One of the few things my stellar friends have in common is that they’re unflinchingly honest with me. Sometimes that can be uncomfortable, but reality can be that way. I prefer to have real and sometimes acerbic friends to milquetoast impersonators.
I trust Miranda completely, so I told her I was thinking about plant races. I’d get random seeds from Portia, plant them in numbered little pots, then see which one was tallest after x days. Or something like that.
“That’s not a bad idea,” she declared.
I was gobsmacked; she’s always been dismissive of almost everything else I’ve done.
“I can’t believe you think that’s a good idea!” I replied.
I didn’t say that,” she corrected, “I said that it wasn’t a bad idea. It’s a horrible idea.”
I was relieved; I feel uncomfortable when anyone’s pleased with a work in progress.
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