“But to point out that some people are destitute while others are prosperous is rather like claiming that the world contains both detectives and criminals. So it does; but this obscures the truth that there are detectives because there are criminals…”—
Things I learned at the African Lion Safari preserve today: 1. Big cats are surprisingly affectionate when they’re doing their thing to increase the pride. I figured lion sex would be more savage. Oh well.
-Reliable sources have it that the hairy flank of an Indian Elephant feels just like my beard.
- If you look at bald eagles in a caged enclosure they don’t *actually* turn their heads toward you and holler “FREEDOM!”
-You wouldn’t think an ostrich could scare you but my wife says otherwise.
-Baboons and I get along just fine.
(This place wasn’t bad. I prefer wild animals in the wild, but at least there was enough room for the cheetahs to stretch out and get running. It’s better managed than any zoo I’ve been to).
Can you draw my favourite 1960s pop group, the Turtles? I have a bit of a crush on Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman. I feel like you will do a good job of capturing the sincere dorkiness of Howard and the zany exuberance of Mark. (look for their performance of "Elenore" live in 1968 for reference)
The Catholic elementary school is having their super-terrific activity day in the parking lot. They brought in some speakers and are blasting music. The irony is killing me! Pumped Up Kicks? (the little children were running back and forth). “Imagine there’s no heaven…” that’s fine by me. I was once an agnostic Catholic 8 year old with a Beatles obsession but it seemed a strange choice.
Party Rock was in the house. I was watering the begonias that hang outside our doorway and watched as silver-haired school administrators wearing oversized pink T-shirts and sunglasses had all the kids clapping in time with the beat. (Straight time, on the one and three.) “In the club party rock, lookin’ for your girl? She on my jock… Non-stop when we in the spot, booty movin’ weight like she on the block…Yo I’m runnin’ through these hos like Drain-o…”
Then everybody was shufflin’.
Oblivion. The lyrical content must be so far out of reach, so perfectly indecipherable, so meaningless to them. It’s like they’re used to not listening. Where’s the overwrought outrage I’ve come to expect from the Catholic education system? In my day we had a nun that came and made sure we knew Phil Collins was a messenger from Satan.
There are some evenings when my wife will elbow her way into a self-congratulatory Republican facebook discussion about how the world could use a little Ronald Reagan right about now and essentially yell “FUCK ALL Y’ALL!!!! with facts and figures. This pleases me to no end.
Wow! Lost some followers over that one. Clarification? I believe everyone should dress how and when they want. I just get a little leery with the idea that a body reaches “acceptability” through acknowledged desirability. I’m not against admiration of the rotund human form! Obviously. Half the people I follow seem to be naked at odd hours. I have friends who explore the possibilities of the fat body in art and erotica. I think there’s a difference between self-directed body exposure and entering the public sphere where you *know* you are going to get hit with confrontation.
Hey. How’s it going? You know, I’m a lady who likes ladies and men both, but I sort of felt like you needed a letter, guys. Summer’s coming, and for some of you, that means jumping in the pool with your t-shirt on and working outside for so long in the sun that your…
So, being a fat dude who does yardwork and occasionally goes swimming I’d point out that the decision to remove one’s shirt has little to do with personal comfort. Sometimes I leave it on ‘cus it’s sunny and I’ve had more than my share of sunburns, sometimes I take it off. There are times I’ll leave it on simply because I don’t feel like soaking up the abuse that day. To suggest a fat person should remove clothing to provide visual enjoyment for strangers doesn’t really cut it with me. Neither does referring to anyone over the age of three as “baby”. As for my sweaty body-hugging cotton, if I’m cutting the grass and someone I don’t know is ogling me for more than about five seconds I’m liable to angle the mower to shoot doggy doo-doo in their direction. My body does not exist for you.
We went and saw Moonrise Kingdom this afternoon. On those rare occasions when I run into somebody who categorically dislikes Wes Anderson’s films I tend to approach with caution. I’m almost certain at that point that they won’t ever understand much of what I say. I’ve always looked at life through the same lens he uses.
Hello midnight. You come without fanfare or music. The hum of a fan and unconsumed vodka. I wish I had more control over you, Friday night. I wish I was someplace else, having done something else. But it’s not to be I guess. Never to be. You’re bad, Friday night. Not as bad as Sunday afternoons mind you, but you have nothing to be proud of.
I looked at the lawn in my back yard this morning and it was a model of precision that would bring a tear to Hank Hill’s eye. Perfectly spaced lawn mower tracks in alternating light and dark. This calls for a touch football game. I’m supplying the ball and the field so it follows that I also get to decide which team is shirts, and which is skins.
Why is it that the random episode of Walt Disney adventure night starring Chips actor Larry Wilcox as a forest ranger battling a killer blaze I remember from a single showing in 1979 is only available in VHS, and only from some pretty shady lookin’ dealers?
Hold your horses. Let me wash the crud off it and I’ll post a picture later on.
Hey there. Despite not having direct experience of dementia, I found your illustration really honest and illuminating. Feel too, that there should be more cartoons of this order; explaining difficult medical issues, or social problems, or uprooting harmful stigmas... no rush though. Get round to it in your own time ;)
True, but do I have to address them all, or can I just stick with the ones I have direct experience with?
-It’s not too late to sit and drink rum and watch Twilight Zone episodes. Why am I not doing this?
-I usually only follow people with a heavy dose of personal content on their blogs but there’s this one person I’ve been following for a year and their writings are so gol’durned cryptic that I still don’t know the first thing about them and yet I continue to read, shake my head and question why they only post one half of the conversation.
-I got new swim trunks today that look like something Joe Frazier would have worn in 1970. This pleases me.
-I have consumed more bok choy this week than in all previous weeks combined.