Spin Doctor
Wheel of Fortune is the perfect dinner time TV show, which, I suspect, is why it's been going on since the dawn of man. It is utterly mindless, and doesn't require even a modicum of attention while one goes about braising the pork chops. Every now and then you can glance up from your tasks and solve the puzzle. The topic is "Thing." You see "---h- -r-" on the screen, cry out "Noah's Ark," feel smugly superior for a moment, and go back to chopping onions. Has anyone ever attained fame by doing even less than Vanna White? She was once asked what skills were required for her job and she answered, "knowing the alphabet." It's been calculated that she's walked the distance to the moon and back two times just yo-yoing back and forth pushing the little buttons that light up the letters. Meanwhile neither she nor Pat Sajak get any older. His hair has gotten bigger though over the years.
posted by John M Crowther @ 6:49 AM
4 Comments:
"The topic is "Thing." You see "---h- -r-" on the screen, cry out "Noah's Ark," feel smugly superior for a moment, and go back to chopping onions."
Dear Mr. Crowther, as a regular follower of this blog I have noticed that you seem to have an odd fascination with plants in the genus Allium, more commonly known as the Onion. At one time, if I recall correctly, you even held a sulphurated match stick in your lips to avoid crying while peeling one. In my practice, it is unusual to observe someone so devoted to a practice that seems to cause such an inordinate amount of pain. Have you noticed any other masochistic tendencies in yourself recently such as drawing? If so I am willing to help you at my usual off-season rates.
I'm glad you asked, Sig (and am delighted, of course, to have such a distinguished personage such as yourself as a regular). I seem to get into bizarre arguments about what is art, especially vexing while drawing with a match in my mouth (which I do so that my drawing skills don't make me cry).
OK, no fair when your commentary and the comments from viewers leave me laughing as well as the laughter at the cartoon.
John, may I call you John? I have a confession to make. Whereas you produce one excellent drawing a day every day, usually early in the morning, I have to sit in an arm chair listening to my patients all day long, six days a week. Consequently I have taken to conducting psychoanalysis with a match in my mouth. As my patients are so uniformly egotistical, blabbering on for hours, no on one seems to have noticed; and when I do on occasion express an opinion with the stick stuck between my lips they think I am speaking with a charming Viennese accent.
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