The Alien Maker. Meet don Fidelito, the Alien Maker. He hails from Bilbao and he makes Aliens, that’s what he does. In his spare time, that is. He works part-time as a Fifth Columnist in the Mainstream Media Underminers International and chips in two afternoons a week at the local Anarco-Syndicalist Cabaret as Maracas & Ice Cream girl. His Aliens come fully kitted and irrepressibly inconvenient. Note from the Scribe. The Shub-Niggurath has been feeling somewhat unnoticed and extra stroppy, lately. She has demanded that she should appear in all my illustrations from now on. She claims that just because she’s a single mother, and fat, and a monster is no reason to snob her and neglect her. Even the Shoggies can see that she has a point, and that’s saying a lot as the Shoggies have a lot of bad history with Milady. However, no way we’re going to indulge her to the full extent of her demands. But she will be appearing pretty often in future doodles, whether her presence is relevant or not. One must look after one’s monsters properly and lovingly, mustn’t one?
There are numerous versions and this has been adapted for these trying times of inflamed cheap sentimentality on one side and crass stupidity on the other.
My rhymes goes, more or less:
Little bunnies run to ground
The hunting hare is around
Day and night, night and day
The rat is running away
Setting fire to the farmhouse
Setting fire to the Law house
Little bunnies, little bunnies
What are we to do?
When we die we’ll look like poo!
And here’s a couple of musical versions
One with reggae beat:
And one in a nice Valencian accent:
Floaters. OK, so the Russian Revolution failed pretty soon and pretty spectacularly and ended up in floods of Stalinist tears, further rivers of blood of the Long-Suffering Saintly Proletariat and bad art. But that’s because a) people are idiots and b) it was not a R-Evolution, just more of the same. Still, it was good for a while and, at the risk of sounding like a modern politician, lessons can still be learned. AND, and it’s a big “and”, before things went hideously tits up, it produced the Constructivists and the Suprematists and, most of all, the ineffable Aleksander Rodchenko, who was not only a genius but he was drop dead gorgeous to boot. There, that’s depth for you. Happy anniversary Winter Palace!
Bob’s Your Uncle. This one is, as much as for the usual deserving, for poor Norman Finkelstein, who’s in the soup again and this time not for opening his big mouth and telling it as it is, as per normal, but for helping a friend in need. Oy vey… Stay stubborn Norman! http://normanfinkelstein.com/