Blog - World Dominance

Are non-Western cultures conversations peppered with trite, colloquial sayings?

Like, in Kapushi, Zambia (population: 26 people per mile) — does one friend say to another (in Kaonde) upon receiving news that their baby was trampled by antelope, “Everything happens for a reason”? 

These condensed and optimistic phrases are woven into our chats and unless you are a hermit or deaf, we are all guaranteed to hear at least one per day.

I’m talking about leap day. Don’t even bother trying to explain it to me, I don’t actually care. The important thing is that I milked one more day out of this prudish month.

Zeichen Press would be nothing without self-imposed deadlines (and cake) and our card-release was set for March 1.

It was a real pressure-cooker situation around here — and because I don’t have enough intensity in my life, I locked myself in the linen closet and reenacted Apollo 13’s return journey. Just me, my laptop, both cats, and toilet paper tubes. We got home safely, God Bless America.

Anyway, we can thank the ground crew (Kim & Fred) for jury-rigging up product photos:

There once was a Frenchman that could, and would, eat large objects. He ate them bit by bit and was able to digest bicycles, televisions, shopping carts, chandeliers, and even an airplane. This took patience and, reportedly, gallons of mineral oil.

Bit by bit.

This wasn’t some sort of performance art piece — he never meant for it to be a metaphor.

But he ate a plane.

Such deliberateness! I like to imagine that he carefully considered each piece as he pried it off and swallowed it.

Mister Eat All The Things (Monsieur Mangetout) could be an inspiring mascot for an economic philosophy.

I’ve been told that a printing press in the shop is just as good as three acres and a cow. We’ll see. WE’LL SEE.

Anyway, I made this card for the president of The Society of Distributism because he has a fancy book signing coming up — 150 lucky people will receive the card. Oh, and a signed book.

The Epilepsy Foundation needed a new look for their fleet of trucks and The Carney Group contacted me (via telepathy) to see if my brain was available to think of ideas. I’m not just a brain. Geez.

I rescheduled my ice-pick lobotomy and put on my thinking cap.

What if the trucks were bright red and had big white letters with a line like, THIS TRUCK CONTAINS TWO TONS OF HOPE??

Yes?

Okay.

Do I have to write the script myself? The script that tells the tale of an experiment gone horribly wrong — a pharmaceutical company hot on the heals of developing a drug that ends all pain and suffering forever??

The drug, nicknamed “Bozo” does so well in animal testing… So well, in fact, it is released to the general population of prison inmates.

Death row no longer feels like a death sentence, cold concrete cells feel like a day spa, “relationships” feel special.

Until… The unexpected “side effects” begin to develop… Oh, it’s too sick. Just imagine a zombie movie but replace the zombies with clowns.

Here’s a birthday card:

[maw-kish] adjective sentimental in a feeble or sickly way • archaic having a faint sickly flavor : the mawkish smell of warm beer

I don’t think I understand the definition. Or, maybe I do. Aren’t a lot of greeting cards mawkish?

Who would give that card? Wait, who made that card? Probably a very nice person. A person who loves hearts and roses and rhymes and sparkles.

I tried to make a mawkish card. That’s Hugh Beaumont, the kindly father from Leave it to Beaver.Hugh hated that he was typecast and later opened a Christmas tree farm in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. I don’t think he opened the Christmas tree farm because he hated that he was typecast. But I don’t know – he was obviously a complicated man.

The New York International Gift Fair (NYIGF) wrapped up (sans blizzard). I wasn’t there (I never am) but it must have been a huge success because our rep is faxing orders to us

faster than we can pull them.

Fax machines work just like Wonkavision and every day I hope to find a chocolate bar instead of an order. But for now, I must be satisfied with ink on paper.

I complain about January, but secretly, I love it. In January, my skin returns to its natural pasty-white color. I know this because I disrobe weekly for a quick shower and pat myself down with a damp towel. That’s not true, I also see my bare legs as I change from my pajama pants to my less-pajama-ish pants.

But enough about my enchanting facade, onto the chewy nougat:

Jen has almost finished printing the cards for our March Release.I can’t wait for her to be finished because then we can get back to all of our gabbing.

While I am forced to sit quietly with my own thoughts, I decided to be productive — I made two new cards: Guess which one will become an uncategorized orphan:

Jen is printing the new cards for the March release and I have decided to wear the off-brand Forever Lazy suit until April 1.

The following is a dramatization of me wearing the suit.

But I don’t need to tell you that.

Sometimes it’s hard to stay humble. Luckily, humility is one of my greatest traits. That, and my perfect attitude and face make it difficult for everyone around me to go about their average lives.

Wait, let me throw down a little manna: