HEAVY LITTLE OBJECTS

Chris Matthews v. G. Gordon Liddy

mack reed — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 18:36:04 +0000

Whoops – original post on Chris Matthews interview of “birther” G. Gordon Liddy is right here.

(My apologies to Twitterfolk misdirected here by a bad link I provided)

Yeah, uh, wow. Um …

mack reed — Sat, 02 May 2009 07:53:08 +0000

I don’t know how to put this, but I’m, uhhh, neck-deep in two other huge side projects that I reeeally need to tend to. I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere, you three spambots who follow this site.

#a435 :: Mash note from my daughter

mack reed — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 04:27:09 +0000

She sidles up to me. Very small voice: “Here, Daddy.”

I unfold it.

I give her a huge bearhug and a sloppy kiss on the forehead.

She smiles.

Mission accomplished.

She’s 7.

#a434 :: Z-card robot

mack reed — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 04:14:48 +0000

I’ve posted some Z-Cardz before – they’re nifty little 3-D models that you assemble from pieces that you punch out of precision-die-cut 2-D plastic cards.

This is not one of their better ones – and I guess that’s why I’m posting it – as an example of Not Good Enough.

Warner Bros. cartoons had their bad years.

Everyone would rather forget the Mustang II for the miserably anemic botch-up it made of a once-proud marque.

And Phantom Menace sucked.

So this particular Z-Card is actually a tribute to its superior brethren.

#a433 :: Potato chip

mack reed — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 00:25:36 +0000

Her: Dad, is this a heavy little object?

Me: Yep.

#a432 :: Message launcher

mack reed — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 00:13:58 +0000

A wonderful little creation – the kids brought these home from school one day. They folded sheets of paper to form these taut, shallow cones that pop outward when squeezed the right way.

The *pop* ejects a tiny drawing – in this case, our daughter’s drawing of us.

The message is “Happy 15th Anaversery.”

#a431 :: Antique Stanley line level

mack reed — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 00:04:29 +0000

A little bit of rococo molding around a glass capsule half full of air. A tool for sensing the approximate direction of the center of the earth. A gen-yoo-wine aahhhrrr-teeeeeefaaaaaaaact.

#a430 Spun aluminum pillbox

mack reed — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 05:42:38 +0000

I’m at the far end of the wire.

The warmth of the crowd rises up into the moldy canvas peak of the tent here. It pours from their eyes, their upturned, open mouths.

I toss the balance pole into the air, pivot the other way, catch the pole and head back across the wire.

Their glasses glint up at my sparkling soles, my cartoon skirt.

Light from the fresnels spangles the tent through the beveled reflections of all that eyewear.

I stroll to the other side.

And this image from our apartment is what I focus on behind my eyes.

God DAMN it, Seth. You left me.

#a429 :: Rotten witch fingers

mack reed — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 05:53:06 +0000

A Halloween candy bowl kept at the back of our cupboard finally (pardon the pun) gave up the ghost.

Used to be you would reach into it for a tasty treat, and a little infrared sensor triggered an animated rubber witch’s hand to snatch at yours and a voicebox would rasp, “Trick or treat!”

This morning we reached in to find the rubber-encased, cotton-stuffed digits had gone the way of all silicone flesh.

I’m loving these things so much, they may even get the Object of the Month award.

#a428 :: Undesirable keychain tag

mack reed — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 05:41:26 +0000

At some point last month, my mother-in-law gave my daughter (age 7) a little keyring with a big fob that spelled out “Love” in lurid gold-chromed script.

It was schwag from some utterly-too-grownup movie, as evidenced by the little stamped-metal tag proclaiming the brand. Here’s what ensued the moment I laid eyes on it:

Me: (rummaging for the pliers) Here, let me fix that for you.

Daughter: Dad, can’t I keep that?

Uh, no. (*snap!*)

I could go on here about the bizarre cultural currency our infantilized nation has created around the fetishism of branded schwag, but I’m saving all my energy for, oh, about four or five years from now when she starts pushing back.