Pre-Election Persiflage. See, I was right. Some people would sooner vote for a fish finger than for any of the candidates on offer in this stupid snap* election. I should have listened to my unerring political instincts and started a crowdfunding to run a Tadpole or a Cagnolito of Tindalos as independent contenders. They would have been infinitely more glamorous and far more exciting than an icon of this ghastliest of all ghastly English fares. Still, I might vote for Mr FF myself, dontyouknow, for I notice than even good old Jezza is beginning to sound (finally, alas), like a true politician, what with the nuclear ambiguity and his fatuous pledges of extra bank holidays an’ all. Ah, me! Thus the mighty fall, my masters…
The snake is called Odile, in homage to Odilon Redon, and she’s French, brought up on a diet of Claude Chabrol and Asterix & Obelix, naturally. The Itinerant Eyeball is called Pips.
*Didactic note: Snap means, amongst many other things, “worthless; of little or no value”. Indeed 🙂
In Babylon. I love synchronicity; is the only spooky thing that ever visits me. But its frequent occurrence more than makes up for the lack of other “psychic” experiences in my drab, wretched life. As I was finishing this here doodle, my thoughts firmly planted in the toxic mire engendered by the latest politico-mediatic jiggery-pokery of the Evil Empire and its minions, I came across an uncannily synchronic article in the evergreen Information Clearing House. Which in turn reminded me of another, older article, which lead me to look for a recent one that contains the quotation the first article brought to mind. Leaner, meaner and more truly useful than the famed 39, I nail these three articles to the door of my miscreant’s shrine. Here be the link to the last one because it’s as close to perfection, both in style and in substance, as I’ve seen lately.
Update 17/04-17 More Clipart! Here be some GGM (Graphically and Genetically Modified) lobsters I found out there, somewhere, some time ago, dispensing their p’litical wisdom to anyone who cares to listen. It’s a sad time when even humble sea creatures know what’s what better than so very many of us, dontyouthinkso? Plus a little something just for the hell of it. Check the link, do. If you only read one article, this year, read this one. It’s pure gold.
Square Pegs. A modest knees-up in anticipation of Chelsea Manning’s release –unless the ghastly Orange Duck reverses the decree, Bumba forfend. I dedicate this to each and every whistle-blower, stalwart dissident and defector of the Man’s Machine that ever drew breath, past, present and future. May your kind multiply and prosper. Never mind that you often feel like the last of the great oddballs. You’re NOT alone.