How to Rig an Election by Victoria Collier

Holy moley these are incredible. Fresh from the absolute letdown that fireworks displays are now that I’m not 8 years old, I come across this MASSIVE collection of old firecracker labels.

I love the style and feel of the artwork. A large print of any of these things would look great hanging on a wall. This guy’s been amassing these labels since he was 5 years old, and he’s got one hell of a collection to prove it. So great.

Check out the entire series here, at Mr. Brick Label’s Flickr page. I originally was pointed to this stuff via this boingboing post.

I’ve been having some trouble with the person who delivers my Sunday paper, so I decided to write the Dispatch to let them know:

Every Sunday morning at my apartment it’s the same thing. I’m jolted awake around 6:30, 6:40 by what sounds to be someone forcing their way in via the front door. Except now I know better. The sound I’m hearing isn’t a ski-masked marauder, it’s the Sunday paper being thrown as hard as it possibly can against my storm door by the Paper Delivery Person (PDP).

This morning, June 24, was no different. I am instantly roused from sleep by the loud bang, thus ensuring I’ll not be able to fall back asleep; thus ruining any chance of me relaxing and sleeping in. The only difference is, this time when I open the door to retrieve the paper, I notice a nice big crack running from upper right-hand corner to the lower left in one of my storm door’s windowpanes. I will gladly provide you with a picture of said pane if you are of the new “pic-or-it-didn’t-happen” school of thought.

Please remind/inform the PDP that they are not Nolan Ryan. They are not Satchel Paige. They are not Charles Nagy. They are not going to the 2012 Summer Olympics for “newspaper shot put,” and thus should not treat the Sunday edition of the newspaper as a fastball or a shot.

Also inform them that this is not a real-life version of the game Paperboy™. And if this is a real-life version of Paperboy™, I will cancel my subscription if this happens even just once more, assuredly ruining their chances at a high score.

Plus, I bet they always wreck at the bonus obstacle course at the end of each level.

Amateurs. Anybody who’s anybody can make it through the obstacle course no sweat.

There’s something magical about guzzling alcoholic beverages outside. Is it the interplay between the cool of the beverage vs. the heat of the atmosphere? Does my Miller High Life really taste better out there amongst the mosquitoes, pollen and rays of sunshine? Yes. Yes it absolutely does. I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. All I know is that it tastes better and that I need to order another round as soon as possible.

But it doesn’t stop there. Not only do the drinks taste better outside, but the conversations are better, aren’t they? There’s a sense of camaraderie that comes with patio drinking; a sense of communication and laughter that you just don’t get cooped up indoors. I bet scientists could conduct a study about it. They’d have a group of people talk about the dumbest thing, let’s say structural integrity of particle board, but in two different settings: 1. in a living room; 2. out on a patio. I’m willing to bet $2.00 that they have more fun talking about it outside.

But then again, it’s only the end of May. Perhaps all the patio drinking will get old. We’ll inevitably get into the torrid days of July and August, when it’s so hot your sneakers stick to the pavement and you sweat just standing up. Maybe then we won’t want to drink outside. Perhaps this is all just blowing off the steam of being stuck inside all winter. Until then, I’m going to slog them down in the sun. Because the end, does it matter? Who cares why you’re drinking your Bell’s Oberon in a plastic chair, getting sun burnt? Why bother wondering why your Jack + Coke tastes so much better outside? One shouldn’t care why it’s awesome or why one drinks on patios. It’s. Just. Awesome.

I asked a fellow patio-drinking enthusiast to fill in the blanks: “Drinking on patios is ___.” She came up with some pretty profound statements.

“Drinking on patios is the best way to make me late for work the next day.”

“Drinking on patios is where I have my best ideas.”

“Drinking on patios isn’t the same without cigarettes.”

I’m inclined to 100% agree with all of those statements. So I don’t know about any of you, but I’m thirsty, and I can hear the laughter at the bar just down the street.

*Let it be known that this is one of the many reasons this blog gets neglected