Eccentric Daisyland

It seemed a little odd to me that anybody going to a place called Daisyland would be concerned about keeping on schedule, but to be fair to the father in this, the train doesn’t reach its destination by the first day of Summer even though it leaves before the first day of Spring. Maybe Daisyland is in Chile or something.

Point taken

I’ll keep this post short and to the point.

That’s a mighty fine pointing hand you have there, Armon, scraped knuckle and all.

Published in: on March 25, 2015 at 4:31 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Word of the day for Friday, March 20th

Benny was hammering away at a thing the other day when I took a look at the package of fancy nails he was using. “Escutcheon nails,” I said. “What’s an escutcheon?” I thought he would know since he was using them and all. He did not. So I had to look it up.

It turns out that escutcheon is not a portmanteau for a curmudgeonly Dutch escargot. No, sir. It’s the shield that a coat of arms goes on. A fancy shield! We have fancy shield nails! Where are our fancy shields? We have stuff to hammer them with, finally! Get the fancy shields, Benny!

Oh wait – it is also the word for a switchplate cover. Eh.

Published in: on March 20, 2015 at 6:12 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Cold-pressed atomica

I’ve driven by this fruit and vegetable market too many times without taking photos. I rectified the situation today, as I know from experience that even the best storefront artwork can disappear in the wink of an eye as the victim of “remodeling” or whatnot.

I fell asleep a lot in Art History class, but I know enough to say that these are clearly influenced by works from Dali’s Atomic period, in which he explored philosophical and spiritual interpretations of Quantum mechanics.

I’m not very well versed in the hard sciences or philosophy, but I do love a good cutaway diagram presented artfully.

And I’m not sure, but I think I’m starting to see Jesus in these oranges. Maybe there is something to this Quantum mysticism stuff after all. I’m calling this one He Who Believes In Me Will Never Get Scurvy.


Hyuck, Hyuck, Goose

Yes, this is a Simple Simon cartoon that I am posting on 3/14/15 at 9:26 in honor of Pi Day. If I were really fancy, I would be able to post this at 9:26:53, but I’m not that fancy. I actually had to look up the 9:26 part because I don’t even know that many digits of pi by heart.

I also only know the first two verses of “Simple Simon” by heart, but that’s okay. Judging from this cartoon that’s the part most people focus on, rather than the other part where Simon is fishing for whales and whistling in pain and such.

Missed call

Man, I could have contributed a lot to Ian Phillips’ book project featuring lost and found pet notices from around the world, but I didn’t hear about it until now. Here’s one from his collection:

The lost pet notice collector community doesn’t have a great communication network yet, I guess.

via Everlasting Blort
Published in: on March 12, 2015 at 6:00 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Soft serve pastoral

Benny and I visited our friends Peter and Sally this weekend in the Valley. We don’t see them enough, and so I’m sure we overstayed our welcome (we actually invited ourselves over), but they were very gracious as they always are and insisted that we stay until the ice cream man came by.

The sun went down, we had eaten as many hot dogs and slices of grilling cheese as we could possibly cram into our stomachs, and still there was no ice cream man. “He comes at night,” Sally explained. Hm. “It’s soft serve!” Okay. We would have to see this ice cream man with his mysterious night-time soft serve.

Some time after 7 pm, we were playing dice games in the backyard when Peter and Sally’s heads shot up. “The ice cream man!” They sprinted toward the back gate that opened onto an alley. Benny and I heard nothing. No tinkling music, no slowly choogling motor, nothing.

Peter climbed halfway over the gate and started waving desperately. A van sped by. Peter waved more broadly as Sally shouted. “It’s okay, he’ll come around again.” Either the first time or the second time around (he was going really fast), the van driver finally stopped well past the gate and backed up to us. Peter managed to get the gate open. And that is where we saw this ice cream truck.

There was something otherworldly about this truck, there was no denying it. The extensive menu including full dinner selections, the night-time silent speeding through alleyways – this was some secret and precious thing. Secret and precious even without a pastoral scene on the side panel of children swimming and playing

and enjoying ice cream and Cheetos

but of course this truck had that too. And yes, the soft serve was amazing.

Maybe this was all just a dream. If it was, thanks for the dream, Peter and Sally.

Autopia dystopia

It seems that 50 years ago some people were worried about our increased conspicuous consumption and reliance on automobiles. Something about eating plastic too. Oh, ha. We solved all those issues ages ago. Silly worriers.

She’s so unusual

When I grow up, I want to be Alison Martino. It’s possible that I am older than her, but I still want to be her when I grow up. If you don’t know who Alison Martino is and you’re interested in pop culture, Los Angeles history, or interesting architecture, you should check out her blog. Be prepared to fall down a rabbit hole or two, but don’t forget to come back here at some point. I don’t think she posted this video over there (though she did call my attention to it), and it’s a perfect example of my “Around the World in Los Angeles” category.

Oh, Lindy, I do love living in this land of bathing girls and whatnot. Wait – who’s Lindy?

Etiquette & superstition: itchiness

I either have a cold, allergies, or I should soon expect insults, illness, and a disappointing meeting.

ETIQUETTE: Scratching an itch in public is socially unacceptable in most countries, but in India it also communicates very specific information, mostly connoting negative feelings. Scratching your arms or head indicates nervousness and lack of confidence, scratching your neck conveys a lack of agreement, and you rub your eyes when you want to avoid looking at an untruthful person.

SUPERSTITION: An itchy right shoulder predicts an upcoming inheritance. Gossip is portended by an itchy left knee. Itchy loins? A reconciliation, of course. If you want to be kissed by a fool, pay attention to where your nose itches. If it’s on the outside, you’re in luck. Hooray!


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