Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak

Weak X

5 March 2026

No. 6,271 (cartoon)

My mood changes when you walk through my door.

Because of my smile? My presence?

The stench of your breath and your repulsive personal hygiene.

6 March 2026

Short Attention Span Theatre

Here’s my favorite headline d’jour:

The Film Students Who Can No Longer Sit Through Films

An informal survey of some twenty professors teaching film studies courses reports that Kids These Days don’t have the patience, focus, or discipline to watch an uninterrupted film. They are not talking about the entire student body; they’re referring to the youngsters trying to learn enough about movies to get the kind of worthless degree that might help them get an entry-level position in a coffee shop.

Good luck with that.

Here’s a relevant bonus headline:

The hot Hollywood trend for minute-long TV shows: “The sort of thing you’d watch drunk at two in the morning”

With people stumbling around like they’re legless all day and all night, here’s my safe prediction: Short Attention Span Theatre is here to stay, one minute at a time.

7 March 2026

Shoe Cleaner Wipes

It’s traveling time again, and when I pulled my backpack out of storage I was surprised to find a small foil packet of shoe cleaner wipes: “Cleans your shoes in one easy step!” And then I recalled that I picked them up at the hotel room at Canyon de Chelly because the idea of polishing shiny wingtip shoes for a hike in a rugged canyon was so absurd. I also remembered that I planned to photograph the bizarre souvenir, so I just did.

8 March 2026

Malaysia Airlines Flight 370

I keep mentioning Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 every year as a public service, just in case someone happens to run across an unclaimed Boeing 777 somewhere. And so, I’m changing “Eleven” to “Twelve” and reposting what I wrote a year ago today.

“Twelve years ago today, Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 shot into the air, it fell to earth, everyone knows not where,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow never said. “For, so swiftly it flew, the sight could not follow it in its flight.”

There’s nothing in the news headlines about the missing plane, but that’s not surprising, almost by definition, since there’s been no substantive news about the vanished jet. And although the blathering idiots that have hijacked broadcasting about current events would certainly deny it, conjecture ain’t news. I think the few remaining real editors gave up on writing about the unsolved mystery after the tenth anniversary last year.

I have nothing to add either, so I too should stop observing the anniversary of the puzzling disappearance. But I won’t. I enjoy revisiting the enigma once a year and pondering the imponderable.

9 March 2026

A Pleasant Colorful Aberration

I was on the bus in an almost comatose state—that’s California!—when I looked up and saw a photograph a meter away. I grabbed my phoney camera, made a snapshot, and forgot about it.

When I was purging all the visual detritus from my electronic storage, I saw the photograph and grudgingly admitted I liked it even though it was in color. Unlike my “good” photographs, this one only worked because of the yellows. It looked like an image someone else had made, and I couldn’t see including this anomaly along with my other work.

It’s a pleasant aberration, but it’s nevertheless an orphan I’ll never show again.

10 March 2026

Audience Martini

I read a nice interview with Jack White, who shares my opinion that popularity and audience sizes are irrelevant.

“Like a lot of people who are creative, I’m lucky that three people give a damn. It’s an honor that any other human would even spend a couple of seconds paying attention to something I put together. If you can figure out a way to trick people into paying attention for a second, you’re on to something.”

That reminded me of something Gore Vidal said.

“Ideally, the writer needs no audience other than the few who understand. It is immodest and greedy to want more.”

And that made me think of E. B. White’s take on art and commerce.

“The whole duty of a writer is to please and satisfy himself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one. Let him start sniffing the air, or glancing at the Trend machine, and he is as good as dead, although he might make a good living.”

I have nothing to add to that. And so, having regurgitated the thoughts of others, I’m going to put ’em in a blender, add some cheap vodka, and enjoy me a nice little audience martini.

11 March 2026

Rescued by Rooster Sauce

A year or two ago Stephano asked me for one of my very few recipes; that was probably the first and last time that ever happened. I don’t know how I could have forgotten that, but I did until I showed up at his studio for lunch today.

He announced that we were having my steamed and sautéed vegetables over brown rice dish for lunch, and things went downhill from there.

“How do you like my variation?” he asked.

“It tastes, er, um, changed,” I replied diplomatically. “How much Worcestershire sauce did you use?”

“None!” he explained. “I never cook with anything I can’t spell and pronounce.”

I agreed that it certainly tasted different than my original; I didn’t add that it was so bland that even a hungry dog might not touch it. I told him that I was going to modify his version a little, and pulled out the emergency bottle of Sriracha sauce I travel with for such catastrophes.

The lunch ended pleasantly enough, and I thanked him for a tasty meal. I was telling the truth: I couldn’t taste anything except the rooster sauce, and that’s fine with me.

12 March 2026

They Instititute (Artificial Ignorance Typo)

“They say that the best camera in the world is the one you have with you.”

I’ve heard that for decades, and only recently wondered who “they” are. I thought about it for a few days, and came up with a surprising answer: I am they.

I founded the They Institute, so now whenever “they” say something, I can take credit. Why, I’ll be the source of even more wisdom than Anonymous.

I decided I needed one of them fancy buildings like all the other think tanks have. I asked Adobe’s AI software to generate a photograph of my new crib. Here were my instructions: Classic large Washington DC marble building with pillars and the exact words “THEY INSTITUTE” clearly visible in huge, prominent letters carved high above the grand entrance.

I was surprised by the result: there was the pretentious building I requested, with THEY INSTITITUTE chiseled in stone. Behold the awesome power of AI; my computer is almost a sentient being! Nah, it can’t even transcribe a correctly spelled word.

Steve Wozniak was right: “Never trust a computer you can’t throw out the window.”

After that setback, I got to thinking some more, and remembered that “they” also say a lot of appalling and repulsive racist, sexist, and just plain stupid things like, “They say the human race would be greatly improved if inferior people would be sterilized before they could reproduce.”

I shut down my institute before it became a problem. Anyone trying to find a link between me and that kind of repugnant vitriol will discover that my only association with “They” is my latest piece, They Instititute (Artificial Ignorance Typo).

Coming next weak: more of the same.

Last Weak  |  Index  |  Next Weak
©2026 David Glenn Rinehart