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Weak XVII

24 April 2024

No. 8,096 (cartoon)

What do you see in that creep?

I believe that change is possible.

You’ll never change anything but a diaper.

25 April 2024

Auto-brewery Syndrome

If you’re looking for the secret of eternal youth, then move along; nothing to see here. But if you’re looking for the secret of eternal intoxication, then you’ve come to the right place!

Sort of.

I’m talking about auto-brewery syndrome, something about which I know almost nothing. Ignorance has never slowed me down before, and I’m not going to start now.

I don’t know exactly how it works, but some people produce alcohol in their digestive system. They’re constantly tippling without taking a single tipple of anything except water.

Auto-brewery syndrome is extremely rare; you have to win—or lose, depending on your perspective—a biological lottery to get a free distillery in your guts. I’m guessing that a fecal transplant might do the trick, but that seems like too much work.

And so, having concluded my research for the day, I’m off to the liquor store.

26 April 2024

Oh Possum

There’s a dead opossum outside my window. I thought it might be playing possum, but when it was still there hours later I concluded it was deader than a dead possum. That made it easy to photograph with a big camera on a tripod. Last month I photographed a spider, so 2024 looks like it may be a great year for wildlife photography.

27 April 2024

Transparent Blank Borosilicate Glass Canvases

Stephanie was in my studio when my new test tubes arrived.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied, “but I do know that I can’t make test tube art without them.”

I enjoy looking at them; they’re like tiny transparent blank canvases made of borosilicate glass.

28 April 2024

Bucatino no. 15 Buddha

The only thing more serene than the Buddha is the Buddha holding a Bucatino no. 15, When I look at Bucatino no. 15 Buddha I’m almost overcome by somnolence.

29 April 2024

A Very Short Story

True story this: I met a lovely, very accomplished woman at the opera house tonight whose name really was and is Tucker Malarkey.

“Stop right there!” Sarah commanded after reading the previous sentence.

“Am I in linguistic trouble again, my dearest grammar queen?” I asked.

“No; you’re done!” she explained. “You just wrote a perfect twenty-three-word story.”

Sarah knows her litterture so I didn’t argue. Even though I am deeply lazy, one sentence seemed even too lackadaisical for me. And so, I’ll write more.

Mañana ...

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©2024 David Glenn Rinehart