Home » Month: December 2017

Bullies, Like the Poor…

will always be with us. Alas.

Mother Bear. It’s mainstream meeja- sanctioned, ergo hallowed, ergo true: everything bad that happens, to anybody, anywhere, it’s Russia/Putin’s fault. Trump wins the election? The Catalans are behaving like a bunch of prats? Italy’s out of the World Cup? It’s raining? It’s not raining? Your wife’s left you? Blame Russia and that Devil in the Kremlin. Easy peasy. It would seem that the self-styled free world’s reserves of hypocrisy and foolishness are as plentiful as they are generously accessible to anybody who wants some. All you have to do is go with the flow. So the Spirit of Russia has come to have a good bitch with her totem and old chum, the MotherBear of All Russias (a BearGon by affiliation), to unburden herself and to get some moral support. And tea & cake, of course. The Cubs are most sympathetic and the Additional Fuzzies moderately disconcerted at the said human fatuousness. The Proto-Shoggoth that dwells in the foliage of the Twofold Tree of Life thinks that the Russian Soul shouldn’t worry too much as it all might come out in the wash anyways, when we blow ourselves to smithereens and the bugs take over the evolutionary circus. The Proto-Shoggoth is a congenital optimist.

Colourful Obsessions

More Gazins (@Dawn and @Noon). It’s not often that I indulge in repetitions and variations on a theme but now and then I do treat myself to a colour and/or a B&W version of a given subject. This time I’m going the whole hog: from an originally B&W image, lo! there springs a full quartet. I simply could NOT resist the urge of going through the whole 24 hours sequence, m’lud, what can I say? Well, you know, Por mucho pan nunca mal año, they say. NB. Gazing@Dusk soooon come.

Update 12/12/17 Gazing@Dusk. So it comes full circle and don Salvatore has the last word:

Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra

traffitto da un raggio di sole:

ed è subito sera

Salvatore Quasimodo

Beasties Various

PachyMamma. Dreaming the Ancestors. The young elephant has been meditating on the Great Ancestress, the PachyMamma, goddess custodian of all things pachyderm and by extension of all things bulky -me included. He recalls the olden days and evokes sadly the time when elephants lost the ability to fly “Must have been Entropy’s doing, she being the ultimate Great Mother. She who in the end will devour even the greatest of great mothers. And fathers. And all their progeny in between”, he thinks. NB. Although the anniversary proper is not till next week, this is the yearly Ash Memorial Doodle. These days I can never be sure when (or even if) I’ll be able to do something, much less meet deadlines, so carpe diem is my motto or, in this case, carpe squiggle. Here’s to you, old chum. I hope you’re giving all the other particles a really hard time. XXX

FoxyBusiness. This is for Maria Clara, aka Kay. Because I said I would. Hope you like him, or her, cherie. It is a true likeness of a real fox cub wot I fond fast asleep on my bedroom window sill one spring afternoon. 2017 has been an excellent year for foxes in my garden. Lots of them, lots of cubs. They use my garden like it was their private fiefdom. And very welcome they are to it, too.