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An Artist’s Notebook of Sorts

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak XXXIX

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24 September 2021

gratuitous image

No. 5,038 (cartoon)

I don’t have the words to express my feelings.

That means you’re going to hit me again, doesn’t it?

25 September 2021

Birthay and Solstice Befuddlement

I blew up a lot of calendars last Tuesday, but I swear it was an accident. Here’s what I innocently sent some of my friends ...

I’m twenty-four thousand days old today; happy birthday to me. And happy solstice too!

That seemed straightforward ... until I got apologetic replies from people who thought my birthday was in January. A few of them became even more confused when I confirmed that my annual birthdate remembrance is in January but that this was an additional birthday I created. Why have just one birthday a year?

I corrected as many of the misunderstandings as I could, but I suspect hilarity shall ensue when I get more birthday greetings next September.

Now here comes the good part or the bad part depending on your perspective: not one person noticed that I said “happy solstice” when I should have said “happy equinox.” It never occurred to me until just now that other people are as bad at overlooking egregious typos as I am.

26 September 2021

Art Doesn’t Care

“Richard Diebenkorn’s coastal landscape does everything you could ask an artwork to do”

That has to be one of the most ridiculous statements about art I’ve ever read, and that’s sayin’ something. Even worse, that was a headline in the Washington Post, a generally respectable rag.

What a joke! Who would ask an artwork to do anything except cover a hole in the wall?

And speaking of jokes, here’s another one:

What do you call a dog with no head?

Why call it anything? It’s not going to come.

Why ask art to do anything? To end with a farcical simile, art is like a cat. You don’t really fully comprehend art (if it’s any good), and art doesn’t care what you want.

27 September 2021

gratuitous image

Drop a Dime

“It’s your dime, start talking.”

That’s the recording you’ll hear if you ever call me on my electronic voice transcommunicator and I don’t respond. The message annoys some people and exasperates the rest, so I haven’t changed in years. I go for months at a time without thinking about it until someone a-loudly complains that such wireless oral communications no longer cost ten cents.

I was reminded of my churlish greeting when I saw a sign on a derelict building urging concerned citizens to “drop a dime” to prevent crime. I wonder how many people get the reference? I’m not sure I do either, but I believe it’s part of prison folklore, or perhaps just another urban myth. Allegedly, an inmate who wanted to inform on another convict would drop a dime into the slot of a coin-operated public telephone to make an anonymous report.

Having dropped my dime, I’m done talking.

28 September 2021

Hinkley Freed!

After forty years, the tireless Free Hinckley campaigners have finally succeeded: a federal judge ordered the would-be presidential assassin to be unconditionally freed next year. John Hinckley Junior finally has a chance to take another shot at a Hollywood romance!

Or perhaps not.

According to multiple news sources, Jodie Foster was still not impressed.

29 September 2021

Squinting Down from the Shoulders of Giants

Devorah sent me a nice note opining, “You write real good on rare occasions.” I thought that was a gentle, polite way of telling me that I rarely write well. I’m not going to quibble; that’s as close to praise as I’ll ever get.

I replied that I suppose I am one of the better writers in my price range. That sounded immodest, so I added that if I have achieved any success, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants, squinting down at their work, stealing what I could.

Perhaps the first line that I stole from my brother wasn’t exactly true, but the other sentence certainly was: I copied most of it verbatim from one of Gene Weingarten’s essays.

Thanks Gregg, and thanks Gene!

30 September 2021

Gesundheit!

Luka chastized me for being as lazy as I was boring and vice-versa for only mentioning the Ig Nobel Transportation Prize (airborne rhinoceroses) and ignoring the much more interesting and useful—and let us not forget fun!—Ig Nobel Medicine Prize that addressed the common question about sex and a congested schnozzle. You don’t have to read “Can Sex Improve Nasal Function?—An Exploration of the Link Between Sex and Nasal Function,” because I already did.

Olcay Cem Bulut, Dare Oladokun, Burkard M. Lippert, and Ralph Hohenberger concluded that sexual orgasms can be as effective as decongestant medicines at improving nasal breathing. There’s more, but that’s all you really need to know.

Luka was right, shame on me for overlooking such an important scientific breakthrough. Don’t bother seeing a pharmacist the next time your sinuses are blocked. In addition to the traditionally effective jalapeño and habanero peppers, don’t forget the efficacious over-the-counter remedy that doesn’t even require leaving the house.

Stare.

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©2021 David Glenn Rinehart

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