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Weak XI

13 March 2026

No. 4,280 (cartoon)

Is this all there is?

Reality is a choice.

Looks miserable, I’m sticking with drugs and alcohol.

14 March 2026

Borg Wars

Here’s my favorite headline d’jour:

Police to target gallon booze jugs at St. Patrick’s Parade. What to know about BORGs.

I just heard about borgs, yet another example of how everything old is new again. Borg is an acronym for “Blackout Rage Gallon,” a large jug filled with lots of alcohol, something else, and lots more alcohol. Kids These Days think they’re clever, and some of ’em are, but it’s all been done before.

Dr. Henry has regaled me with tales from the olde days, also known as the sixties, when he drank wine mixed with acid in Golden Gate Park in Sans Frisco. He can’t remember any of the details; that confirms that he’s telling the truth. I drank Carlo Rossi wine from gallon bottles during my formative years because the five-liter box of wine had not yet been invented. (Even so, the gallon bottle of wine is a great idea that won’t die.)

I appreciate that the Boston cops will be cracking down on those of Irish heritage swilling booze from borgs during the upcoming Saint Patrick’s Day celebrations; that’s yet another example that there’s nothing new under the moon or sun.

I have no desire to return to Boston, and the idea of mixing wine with anything other than acid is disgusting, but the idea of chugging some vile concoction from a Boston borg has a certain appeal since it would taste like the forbidden fruit.

15 March 2026

Art Gleanings

I normally ignore alleged art magazines since they’re all relentlessly tedious, but I let my guard down when I saw that Art Gleanings published its annual survey of contemporary artists.

Big mistake.

The exhaustive report was exhausting, and concluded with what I’ve always known: one in three bad artists is every bit as crappy as the other two.

16 March 2026

The Thrill of It All

Fifty years ago today I photographed the Electric Light Orchestra. The concert promoter gave me access to the shooters’ pit (like an orchestra pit, but for shutterbugs) directly in front of the stage in exchange for prints.

All of my concert photographs were forgettable, so I never kept any of them. I don’t remember a thing about Electric Light Orchestra, but the Internet reports that they were the headliners that night. I’d never heard of the warmup band, but by the time the musicians were halfway through their second song, The Thrill of It All, I put down my camera and listened to a mesmerizing performance.

And that’s how I discovered Roxy Music.

17 March 2026

The Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society and the Dull Men’s Club

“The obscure we see eventually. The completely obvious, it seems, takes longer.”

I remembered that Edward R. Murrow quote when I read about the Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society. What a great idea! I’m not a joiner, but that’s one of the few organizations that I can heartily and liverily endorse, along with the Dull Men’s Club.

It just happened again.

I was going to reference a couple of things I’ve said before about the Dull Men’s Club, but I just discovered that this is the first time in thirty-some years of daily entries that I’ve mentioned that fine association.

I may have made a wise choice inadvertently and/or subconsciously. I’m not going to enthuse about the Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society and the Dull Men’s Club; I gotta stay sharp to maintain my dullness.

As Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno advised, “Remember: the tedium is the message.”

18 March 2026

Deep - Fried Intestines Failure

I spotted this promotion for “Deep - Fried Intestines” (their hyphenation, not mine) in the window of Cheung Hing Restaurant. As an ignorant honky, I was amused by the cultural dissonance of advertising intestines, and I was visually attracted to the signage: the photograph of the purported delicacy was printed on perforated metal that allowed diners to look out without being subjected to passing gawkers.

I immediately recognized it as a juicy photograph ripe for the plucking; it even had Lichtenstein’s Ben-Day dots!

I thought I couldn’t go wrong, but I certainly did. The dots sunk me. No matter how I manipulated the contrast and tonal range, the image looked like a flat, grey newspaper reproduction. I learned a lesson, so I didn’t walk away empty-handed. I like the idea of exploring Ben-Day dots, and when I do, I’ll add them in the computer where I have total control instead of tracking them down in the wild.

Coming next weak: more of the same.

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©2026 David Glenn Rinehart