Brief Encounter V. Make up your own stories, do. The Tree-Dwelling Fuzzy and his pal, the Cutting-Edge Tadpole refused to tell me what the (clearly-doomed-to-fail) transaction was all about. That’s all right with me. I have a lively imagination and I know fascist crap when I see it.
Shoggdala. Say hello to the Shoggdala. Meditate on the many facets of the Shoggdala. Address your Ooooooms to the fractal protoplasm of the Shoggdala. Sing it songs. It likes that. NB. The alien eyes in the middle of the Shoggothic mass are the eyes that grace my favourite Nepali stupa. They’ve been with me, ingrained in my brain cells for the longest time. Here’s to you, me old china!
My First Cthulhu. Much as I like teddy bears, I can’t remember how and when I got my first one (‘though I remember what it looked like). But I can remember when, where and how I did what is now been reincarnated into this intensely blue mess. It was so much another time, and another place, and that particular wench I then was is so dead, that makes my head spin. Still. A Cthulhu is a Cthulhu. Never turn your nose at a Cthulhu. I say.
‘ere, ‘ave a panoramic. I’ve been wanting to do one for yonks. Next: a tryptic? There’s no end to my ambition, obviously. Warning: There might be more of this sort of nonsense soon, I suspect.
Update 18/07/16 Not quite the tryptic I was hoping for and pretty frivolous to boot, but I’ve just “discovered” a new font/text app and I could never resist doing something with text just for the sake of it. On the right corner we have the ineffable Black Goat of the Woods with Far Too Many Young doing a Robert de Niro, an attitude that suits Milady to a T. On the left, a public notice on behalf of young Erwin Oriol and the Library of Upper Leng. He’s lost his book –or maybe it has been nicked by the Forces of Reaction, who disapprove of educating children –or anyone else for that matter. The poor child is distraught and the little worm Chief Librarian thoroughly pissed off. The book is a cheap quarto paperback edition of Thomas Ligotti’s The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. New Atlantis University Press. 2001. Any intelligence, information, rumour, gossip, or even third hand hearsay as to the whereabouts of the damned thing most welcome. On the customary postcard, please.
Criminal Minds, the Reality Show. There, never say I don’t do my best to keep you posted on the latest entertainment trends. This one is co-produced by Ogle Inc., Pox News and MI50. Enjoy. And in case you though (oh, so wrongly!) that I’d support Hilarious Hillary just because “she’s a woman”, think again. She’s toxic, she is. Once, in an unguardedly insensitive moment of great anger against her, I compared her to a hyena (as female hyenas have nearly as much testosterone as the males). Next day I had a large delegation of the darling Feliformiae picketing my doorstep and complaining loudly about the insult. I apologized promptly and profusely to the admirable creatures, offered tons of Smarties as reparation and signed an official document declaring my devotion to their hygiene-conscious kin. After that we got along famoulsy and they even let me play with the cubs they had brought along (-a PR stunt, no doubt). I’ve still got the selfie somewhere in my hard drive…:-)
Not that there’s all that much to rejoice about. The weather is crap and the Brexit hysteria is hitting the fan like the proverbial shit. Still, be brazen, be defiant, be toujours gai! Raise two fingers at life itself, si le cœur vous en dit.
Update 23/06/16. To celebrate Vote To Remain A Slave In Any Case Day, here’s a wee bit of early history of things wot are intrinsically good and groovy. So…that’s how it all began. Next thing you know, the peasants are storming the Winter Palace. Of course, the results never seem to last very long. But who knows… Perhaps one day…one day… Hope MUST spring eternal.
I find difficult to believe the levels of hysteria generated by this most fake of fake debates. But there you have it. Zombies sleepwalking into the next trap. Oh, well… The quotation is from Edgar Allan Poe, naturally. ‘ere, ‘ave some music to go with it.
The charges, of the just-in-case- variety in the first place, were bogus and the evidence trumped up. Or the other way around –same difference. The prosecution was cheaply bought and the witnesses all had had tactical lobotomies. The Little Man and his Mafiosi sponsors even took the case to the wrong court, much to Bubbles amusement who wryly concluded that one should never trust little people in positions of power –or any people at all, for that matter. However, Ms Dearie’s mum mounted a fierce and cogent defence, the case was thrown out by the Snakes and a ginormous compensation fee was awarded to the young Blossom, who is currently touring the Badlands with Bubbles and the older Snake and having the time of her life. Who doesn’t like a happy ending?
Long time no do a proper, undiluted Loony Tune. No politics, no meaning, no depths. Just mindless sweet silliness. Behold, the Cyclopic Teddy is come visiting his friends in The DeepDeepDeep. The marine creatures are massively excited and happy. All is fluffy.
This here thingy is made entirely of bits of clipart I found out there to which I’ve “done things”; most of it came pre-loaded into a new app I got recently. The tree came from an app called Mandalas wot does…well, mandalas, would you believe it. Actually, the mandalas are already “made” and you just add colour. Is one of those toys for folks who cannot draw and are NOT creative AT ALL but would like to feel they are creative, and who liiiiike to shaaaare their selfies and other crap with their many, many, many “friends” on FaceSoddingBook, a pox on them all. Me, I love the shapes and I steal them ruthlessly and frequently, same as I nick some clipart with gay abandon because some of it is too delicious not to nick and work with. That deep. So, stealing can be fun. Shoot me… This one (there will be others, soon) I’ve dedicated to my darling dead friend, Ash, who was into Norse mythology, especially root-chewing giant worms (or wyrms, as they’re called in old English -or by pretentious people who like to affect an old-fashion mode of expression). He also had a very cuckoo sense of humour and I know he would have pissed himself laughing. I do miss him a lot. As usual and on the Por Mucho Pan Principle, there’s two versions. Life is too short to agonize about some kind of choices.
Update 28/05/16 I warned you there’d be more. Here it be. Every single bit a bit of clipart “rescued”, done things to and put to work. Whatever else anybody may think of the results, or even the ethics of the procedure, me, I’m having a whale of a time doing it. Long live Arsène Lupin!
There, some relevance. The Road is an upgrade of something so ancient that really I have forgotten how the original came into being. The second story is that “In them early days things were pretty jumbled and very hazy and nobody quite knew what was what. Creatures came upon one another and wondered and puzzled and, sometimes, they quizzed each other -with varying degrees of either civility or success.” Voila!