2007 Notebook: Weak XIV
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3 April 2007
No. 7,530 (cartoon)
I can’t accomplish anything ambitious.

Your ambition is in your way.

4 April 2007
New Republic Bombshell!
Intrepid researchers at the New Republic sent shockwaves through the publishing world when they presented convincing evidence the some of the events in David Sedaris’ short stories didn’t happen precisely as he described them. Imagine that, a fiction writer embellishing the facts!

I wouldn’t be surprised if the New Republic investigative journalists don’t soon reveal that the Easter bunny didn’t really die on the cross. Or maybe they’ll take the easy approach and just audit a White House press conference.

I note with satisfaction that no one from the New Republic has ever challenged the veracity of anything I’ve ever written. It’s like I said in the last millennium, everything I write is true.

5 April 2007
Art Cemetery
In a dream, I came up with the idea of creating some sort of cemetery for my dead art pieces, i.e., those that either never came to life or that failed to survive in the aesthetosphere. It wouldn’t be a proper cemetery though; perhaps more like a complex of mausolea. That way, I could resurrect any work that I though deserved a second chance.

(Time for a little joke. What would Richard Nixon be doing if he was alive today? Scratching at the lid of his coffin.)

I suppose my ersatz cemetery might be better described as some flavor of purgatory; I’m not sure. Theology is one of those pursuits I’ve always found profoundly uninteresting.

6 April 2007
They X-ray Horses, Don’t They?
Rosimere Lima da Silva—who runs the Group for Salvaging Self-Esteem and Citizenship of the Obese—is an unhappy woman. It seems public health officials in Rio de Janeiro hospitals are sending overly corpulent patients to a racetrack for treatment.

For example, standard tomography equipment can’t accommodate people who weigh over a hundred and twenty kilograms or so. At the racetrack, though, no patient is too blubbery to accommodate.

Such logistical considerations don’t sway Da Silva, who complains, “Having to be treated where animals are is not helping their self-esteem.”

I told my dear friend Dr. Uebbing—who works with healthy horses and unhealthy, fat people—about this story.

“If I treated my obese patients as well as I treat horses,” she replied, “they’d probably be much happier with me.”

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7 April 2007
I left the Million Fishes Arts Collective opening tonight none the richer aesthetically. However, I did walk away with another donation to my Rolls of Honour program, a roll of ShitBegone toilet paper.

“You’ve gone too far,” Marge declared when I showed her my latest acquisition.

I decided against telling her I was chuffed when a trusted friend told me I’d gone too far; I don’t hear that enough. Instead, I simply explained that Rolls of Honour was an art project.

“That’s not art,” Marge replied, “that’s just cheap.”

If there’s anything that gives me more satisfaction than hearing that I’ve gone too far, it’s the pronouncement that my art isn’t art. I was tempted to argue, but decided that squabbling over toilet paper was even too petty for me. First time for everything!

8 April 2007
The Eostre Bunny
Over a millennium ago, the Anglo-Saxons worshipped a god named Eostre, or Ostara. Eostre appears to be one of the nicer gods; she once saved the life of a bird with frozen wings by turning it into a rabbit. Apparently the rabbit still had a birdie innards; that’s why Eostre’s bunny can lay eggs.

Happy Eostre!

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©2007 David Glenn Rinehart