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15 May 2023

No. 6,464 (cartoon)

I’ve had it with you.

No, you’re going to get it from me.

Here we go again ...

16 May 2023

Climate Cataclysm Ahead of Schedule

I don’t want to live forever. (Or perhaps I’m just rationalizing; the last time I checked that option wasn’t on the menu.) Having said that, it might be nice to check in every quarter of a century or so to see how things are progressing and regressing.

But why wait? Here’s the latest from the wireless wires:

The world is almost certain to experience new record temperatures in the next five years, and temperatures are likely to rise by more than 1.5C above pre-industrial levels, scientists have warned. The breaching of the crucial 1.5C threshold, which scientists have warned could have dire consequences ...

How great is that? I should live long enough to see climate fuckedupiness wreak some serious havoc without bothering with all that coming back from the dead foofaraw. Instead, I can fry up some popcorn and watch the end of the world as we knew it from a ringside seat.

Good end times!

17 May 2023

Traffic Lesson

I drove Iris to the airport yesterday; what should have been a routine cruise turned into a harrowing trip. We ended up in a massive traffic jam, and for over an hour we crept along the interstate slower than an overweight cyclist. We anxiously checked our watches every few minutes and saw there was a good chance that we wouldn’t make it on time. She sprinted through the airport and made it to the gate fifteen minutes before her plane left and now she’s in Paris; whew!

Today I learned that the huge traffic jam was caused by a horrific crash: a drunk driver going the wrong way killed a family of five in a fiery crash. I’ll try to remember that lesson the next time I’m inconvenienced and be grateful to be healthy and alive instead of kvetching about my trivial and imagined woes.

And that’s more than enough wisdom for one day; now it’s time to do something stupid again to compensate.

18 May 2023

My Ten-Thousandth Entry

I’ve heard that if you do something ten thousand times you get pretty good at it, but I’m not so sure about that. This is my ten-thousandth daily notebook entry, and ’twould appear that I’m still not very good at it. I wonder if someone was off by a decimal point and a hundred thousand was the magic number? Nah, Henri Cartier-Bresson probably got it right, “Your first ten thousand photographs are your worst.”

I’m declaring this a Big Round Number holiday and taking the rest of the night off. I’m a-gonna sip me some more Scotch and see if I write any more better tomorrow ...

19 May 2023

So Long, Mister

I’m filing the news that the Wall Street Journal is removing honorifics from its style guide in my Better Late Than Never folder. Sentences like “Mr. Hitler was responsible for murdering millions ...” always sounded wrong wrong on so many levels.

The news is irrelevant to me since I avoid anything with the stench of Rupert Murdoch about it. It’s also doubly inconsequential: I ain’t got no style, thus I don’t need no style guide.

I’m glad that antiquated formality is vanishing; it’s a tribute to the lasting power of stupidity that it survived this long. And speaking of idiotic practices, I wonder how long men will continue to wear ties?

20 May 2023

The Bright Side of Dementia

“I’m afraid that things with Derek aren’t going so well,” Isabella reported.

“I’m glad I was sitting down when you dropped that bomb,” I laughed.

“This time it’s serious,” she insisted. “I’m having a real problem dealing with his memory.”

“I understand all too well how difficult it is to witness the onset of mental decrapitude in someone you love,” I began.

“You’re chewing on the wrong side of the waffle,” she interrupted. “The problem is that his memory is too good. He remembers every one of my screwups, indiscretions, and faux pas, and he’s not shy about reminding me.”

“I’m sure it’s just a passing thing,” I replied. “Someday one of you will get dementia and everything will be fine.”

Coming next weak: more of the same.

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©2023 David Glenn Rinehart