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Weak XIX

7 May 2026

No. 447 (cartoon)

What do you think?

You just want to hear your beliefs coming out of my mouth.

So what’s the problem?

8 May 2026

Physics Headaches

I don’t know why I read news stories about quantum physics. I’d probably come away similarly enlightened if they were written in Sanskrit. Until now, researchers have postulated that every particle was either a boson (not to be confused with a boatswain) or a fermion. Bifurcation, nice and simple, relatively speaking.

But now I read that we may also have “bizarre ‘in-between’ particles called anyons [that] could also exist in a one-dimensional system.” This concept is giving me brain spasms: how can more than one thing exist in one dimension, a point?

I decided to skip ahead to the next article, but stopped as soon as I saw the headline, Quantum weirdness may be quietly blurring time itself.

I gave up and headed to the kitchen to make a quesadilla. Melted cheese between hot tortillas, now there’s some physics I can understand.

9 May 2026

Quasireality

What’s going on here? Yesterday it was the physicists bolloxing things up, and today it’s the linguists.

Since the birth of language, something was either real or unreal. A century ago, André Breton published his Manifesto of Surrealism, but the word never really thrived outside artists’ ghettos. (And that’s fine with me, since that’s where I live.)

Real or unreal (with an occasional pinch of surrealism) was working just fine until someone decided we needed a new word, “irreal.” One dictionary defines it as “not real,” another describes it as “a rare term for a specific, literary, or artistic type of estrangement from reality, similar to a dream state.”

In other words, it’s a mostly useless and redundant word. One of the great things about the English language is that you can shove anything you want into it and see if it survives.

I can’t believe I’m writing about quantum physics two times in a decade, let alone two days in a row, but it’s my turn to invent a new word based on “quasiparticle, a quantum of energy in a crystal lattice or other system of bodies which has momentum and position and can in some respects be regarded as a particle.”

“Quasireal” is my contribution to the English language. Is that a real word? Who cares? It’s a quasireal word, and that’s good enough for me.

10 May 2026

The Big Bangs

Just when I thought I was done thinking about physics, along comes Roger Penrose. He finally provided some news I could appreciate, even though it’s really the opposite of news.

I could never understand the Big Bang. I know that I’m quite ignorant when it comes to complex science, but creating everything from nothing in a tenth of a millimeter—or was it a tenth of a milliliter?—seemed more like religious dogma than rigorous science.

I’m not sure if I have the right end of the cosmic stick, but Penrose said the Big Bang was just the old universe recycling itself and starting over. Better yet, what we call the big bang was just the latest in a series or restarts.

Or something like that.

I can’t comprehend Penrose’s scientific rationale, but a vague idea of what may have happened fourteen billion years ago is good enough for me.

11 May 2026

Bulimia Buffet

Sushi Toro is an all-you-can-eat restaurant in Gelves, Spain. It’s unclear whether it offers unlimited fish and/or unlimited cow; maybe it’s hamburger sushi. What I do know is that too many patrons abused the offer, and upchucked the food they just gavaged as if they were trying to make foie gras. As a result, the restaurateur created a vomit fee.

That might seem reasonable at a glance, but I think it’s a bad idea.

First of all, spending a few more euros on dinner isn’t going to stop a cretin from eating like one. I think there’s a more persuasive deterrent, one that would be much more effective.

My father grew up during the Great Depression, and he taught me that I should never waste food. I think the Sushi Toro manager should force anyone who vomits up their dinner to eat it again before they can leave. One or two such punishments would be a strong disincentive to others considering shoving a kilo of food down their gullets.

That may sound a bit extreme, but it’s not. If I ran the joint, I’d hire dominatrices to force customers to eat everything on their plates. (And if they didn’t? I’m still working on that part.) It just might be popular, like the “Bastards” restaurant in Peter Richardson’s Eat the Rich.

The uplifting part of this story is that Spaniards can be as gross, stupid, and disgusting as Americans. There are lots of competitors in the race to the bottom, and we have lots of company.

12 May 2026

A Very Mean, Nasty Remark

I popped into the Flint Institute of Arts Museum to urinate and grab a roll of toilet paper for my Rolls of Honour project that I’ve resumed after a fifteen-year break. On the way out, a guard asked to check my backpack. She said she appreciated my politeness because the last person she stopped told her that he wouldn’t take anything on exhibit there unless someone paid him to drive it to the dump.

“Isn’t that a terrible thing to say?” the guard asked.

“That’s a very mean, nasty remark,” I agreed.

I shall try to remember it; I’m sure it will come in handy one of these days.

13 May 2026

I Love My Doctor

It’s time for my annual medical exam, and my doctor’s filling out the basic questionnaire, including question number nine: how many alcoholic drinks a day.

“I suppose that might be considered a lot unless you’re French,” I said after telling her.

“Not really,” she replied, “I’d call that moderate.”

“What’s the definition of moderate?” I asked.

“If you drink less than I do,” she explained, “that’s moderate drinking.”

I love my doctor.

14 May 2026

Suture Failure

Alphonse didn’t break his elbow when he fell; he pulverized it. He fared better than Humpty Dumpty, though; two surgeons and three specialists put him back together again during a five-hour operation.

The half-meter suture closed with adhesive strips was beguilingly photogenic. I made a few photographs, and was quite pleased with the results, especially the dried blood in the bandages.

Until ...

When I went to prepare the final image, I discovered the left half was unacceptably out of focus. I wasn’t surprised that I was surprised. That’s what I get for photographing an animate subject; I should have known better than to take my camera off the tripod.

Coming next weak: more of the same.

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©2026 David Glenn Rinehart