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Weak XXXVI

3 September 2026

No. 725 (cartoon)

Don’t play dumb with me.

You’re winning, so stop complaining.

I am quite sagacious indeed when it comes to stupidity.

4 September 2026

The Thirty-Sixth First Annual Ig Nobel Prizes

“You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss.”

Herman Hupfeld wrote As Time Goes By ninety-five years ago, but now we know better thanks to Matilda Brindle, Catherine Talbot, and Stuart West. They won the Ig Nobel Prize for Biomechanics for defining kisses as “non-agonistic interactions involving directed, intraspecific, oral-oral contact with some movement of the lips/mouthparts and no food transfer.” The researchers also noted, “every species in which kissing evolved also engages in premastication.”

Hot!

I wish I’d known that when I was young and too shy to say “I want to kiss you.” I might have found the courage to say, “I want to engage in non-agonistic interactions involving directed, intraspecific, oral-oral contact with some movement of the lips/mouthparts and no food transfer.” I certainly can’t say that now; I can’t memorize that many words.

I was also intrigued by the Ig Nobel Prize for Chemistry; that’s how I learned that the proteins in cockroach milk deliver three times as much energy as dairy milk. Once that knowledge spreads, none of the people sharing their tenement apartments with herds of cockroaches will ever be malnourished again.

5 September 2026

The Grateful Drowned

The mayor of San Francisco announced that the Grateful Dead would be featured in a new submersive experience in Golden Gate Park.

Bravo!

I figgered they’re gonna dump all that stinky old hippie crap in Spreckels Lake. It’s only a couple of meters deep, but I’m sure it can hold a warehouse full of tie-dyed underwear and cracked patchouli oil bottles. Good riddance to abhorrent rubbish!

As is so often the case, I figgered wrong: the word was “immersive,” not “submersive.”

Feh!

Organizers are charging thirty-nine dollars and eleven cents to view the relics of the cult of musical mediocrity. Most of the members of the Grateful Dead are finally just that, but the virus lives on.

6 September 2026

Crystallized Intelligence

Norman Swan is flogging his new book; here’s how it works. His publicists arrange a series of interviews where he reveals the most interesting and useful parts of his publication. I suppose that’s intended to motivate his audience to buy his latest volume, but that’s counterproductive with me.

I’m fortunate to enjoy a short attention span; there’s so much to experience before I die. I was ready to move on to the next shiny thing after taking away one paragraph from Swan’s sales pitch.

Our brains have changed, not deteriorated. Focusing on what that “change” looks like can make the task of maintaining cognitive function and perhaps even improving it, much clearer. Sure, our fluid intelligence—which is about speed and problem-solving—peaks in our twenties, but unless you’re a math whiz or a gun lab researcher, that is less important than what’s called your crystallized intelligence, which can actually improve with age. It’s the wisdom of knowledge and experience.

It’s great to know my brain hasn’t deteriorated, empirical evidence to the contrary. I now realize that my forgetfulness, unreliable memory, and occasional puffs of fog drifting between my ears are signs of my knowledge and experience.

Thanks, Norman!

7 September 2026

Archiving Chronicles, Part IV

I looked at a photograph I just scanned and was annoyed to see dust spots. I cleaned the flatbed’s platen, wiped the print with a lintless cloth, and got the same result when I scanned it again. That’s when I realized I was looking at dust from my twenties. It’s been in the print all this time, just too small to be visible to the naked eye.

I’m not sure what to make of this discovery. Virtually invisible specks of dust clearly aren’t a problem in practice, but they nevertheless annoy me after decades of examining dozens of billions of perfectly spotless pixels. I suppose that I could examine all of my old prints with a powerful magnifying glass, but even I am not that persnicketally stupid.

8 September 2026

Unless I Get Hit by a Cargo Plane

I usually add a disclaimer to my agreements, e.g., I’ll be there at noon, unless I get hit by a meteor. I have an almost perfect record of keeping my promises, but I am nevertheless retiring that proviso.

After almost two minutes of assiduous research, I discovered that there’s only one documented case of someone being killed by a meteor, and that was on 22 August, 1888, in Sulaymaniyah. Closer to home, Ann Hodges was hit by a meteorite on 30 November, 1954, but it only bruised her hip. That’s why I’m replacing “meteor” with “cargo plane.”

A couple days ago, a cargo plane overshot the runway and killed five people on the ground, so that’s my new worst-case scenario. And with that, I’ll be back tomorrow. Unless I get hit by a cargo jet, possibly even one transporting meteorites.

9 September 2026

Marc Amsler Grid, Goudy Period, Potato Patch, Pacific Ocean

I made the photograph because I liked the idea of an Amsler grid floating over the ocean, and I’m keeping the pieceß so that I can use the title, Marc Amsler Grid, Goudy Period, Potato Patch, Pacific Ocean.

Coming next weak: more of the same.

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©2026 David Glenn Rinehart