The Humble Toothpick And The Story Of A Meat Tooth

Sometimes you know you’ve got something stuck in your teeth and since you’re in polite company you’ve got to pretend it isn’t there. Well, most of us do anyway. As soon as you get somewhere semi-private the fingernail or edge of a paper is deployed on a particle finding mission. There’s nothing quite like the relief you feel when you dislodge that hunk of meat or vegetable from your teeth. It’s satisfying on a physical level (no more annoying feeling of something that’s just not right in your buccal cavity and your tongue breathes a sigh of relief from the knowledge it no longer is tasked with a job it was not designed to do) and on an emotional level because you know you can now smile freely without the inhibition that gripped you while you had the hunk of food in your tooth. I grew up in a time when going to the dentist meant new cavities and the whole drill and fill sequence. Every time. I’m sure Dr. George’s family benefited greatly from our teeth. Anyway, they have the whole cavity thing mostly taken care of now with various fluoride treatments and, needing a money maker, they’ve shifted to cosmetic dentistry. Had I been born a couple of decades later I am sure my parents would have been advised that my crooked teeth needed straightening otherwise I’d end up living in a cardboard box somewhere in San Francisco and forced to do my pooping on the curb. Alright, my teeth aren’t that bad but I do have a big gap between my upper incisor and canine tooth on the right. Sure enough, like the sun rising in the east, every time I eat there is some fragment of food stuck in there. I call it my “Meat Tooth”.

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Bad Week to be a Leftie

Man, it sure has sucked to be a leftie this last week or so. Outdone by Donny Two Scoops, the single biggest idiot ever to populate the White House (their words).

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Thursday Teabagger Treat

Well, after covering coffee last week it was only natural that I shift my focus to its Limey bastard cousin; tea. Surely tea drinking began somewhere in China and caught on elsewhere along the Silk Road trading route (I just made that last part up but I’ve found that if use terms like “Silk Road trading route” people will often believe the rest of the verbal diarrhea that flows from your mouth). Alright, where were we? Tea. Pretty popular drink everywhere. Great Britain. Ireland. India. China. Wakanda? Not so much.

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Get Ready!

Time to do something, right now dammit!

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Bon Wire

And so we say goodbye to The Weimar Republic and The Neu Objectivity. We sail across the sea to The U.S. where we are treated to paintings of the pastoral landscapes and slice-of-life vignettes of American life in the 1920’s and 30’s.  That’s right!  American Regionalism will be teh loadstone in our further un-winding of Modernism in painting and sculpture.

Here we find Grant Wood.

b. 1891 Anamosa, IA d. 1942

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