Translated from the original German, these images and excerpts are from what is considered the founding text of aerodrome design at a time when heavier than air flight was less than a decade old. Del Mutel’s designs were mostly visions of structures to be built in a European future where cities had expanded so vastly that large, area-swallowing tracts of land for airports would be unavailable.
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I almost never hear anything when people sing. It’s all Charlie-Brown’s-Teacher noises until the song ends. Wa wama wa wa. But with some songs, it’s worse than others, to the point that I start to suspect that they’re doing it deliberately. Let me clarify. I’m not talking about Mondegreens. I’m not talking about Fuck It’s an Owl. I’m not talking about “Good King Wenceslas Lost his Crown”. I’m talking about cases where I don’t just mishear words. When I don’t hear anything. And I secretly suspect that’s because, with most of these, there aren’t actually any words. July 12, 1919 Dear Mr. Chaplin, I just wanted to write to say how much of a fan I am of your work! Even here in Munich, whenever a poor paper-hanger like myself can scrap a few hundred thousand marks together, I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon than to watch you “tramp” about! A good joke, yes? I think I have a future as a writer, but am focusing on painting at the moment. I feel I just need a decisive look to define myself, and so I was writing to ask if I could use your trademark mustache to help with my own image? Reichsmarschall Ulrich von Pappenheim: You shall be held accountable for your actions, Martin Luther, and be made an example of. Luther: You cannot do this! Persecuting me opens a can of worms! Reichsmarschall Ulrich von Pappenheim: That brings me to the Edict of Worms: you must eat this bucket of worms. Luther: You suck!
They say I am dead. That I will never haunt the world again. That I shot myself in a bunker in Germany sixty years ago. What they don’t know is that I had a long-hidden twin brother who actually was the one who died, and that I learned the secrets of eating right and exercising. I have lived to see the ripe old age of 120. They also don’t know where I’ve been hiding, the one place no one has thought to look: Sentinel Island. From the smallest of the Andaman Islands, I shall attempt my comeback. For years, I thought I was off to a good start. I smacked these foolish islanders into a steely, unforgiving discipline. I have trained them to make unmotivated attacks on all outsiders. And though they have never met a Jew or Frenchman, they assure me that if they ever do, they will growl menacingly.  Why A Swinger? Rampaging robocops rebelliously reduce residents to random radical reserves.
I just got back from seeing Indiana Jones 4. It was pretty good, except for this idiot and his fat wife who sat next to me who kept going back for more pop and popcorn (via where I was sitting) for the whole movie, laughed at the most plebian of jokes, and who would guess the endings to lines, out loud, when it was delayed for dramatic or humorous effect. |
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