Red Anteater. Aka Brief Encounter VII. For “Auntie” Fran. An unexpected stardust blizzard hits the Not-So-Bad-Lands and causes an abnormal meeting of creatures: the Red Badger, tutelary spirit of the groves, meets an absconded giant anteater. Much puzzlement, initial confusion and eventually spontaneous merrymaking ensues. Tea and coffee are dispensed by the (invisible) dryads and all is fluffy. Have a lovely weekend. And this link is also for Auntie:
Air Farce One. For my good mate don Ricardo Hinks, alias the Professor, who send me the revealing link in the first place. Look! Even old Mother Chaos is in extra turmoil and Yog-Sothoth is alarmed by such psychopathic display of idiocy. Ay que dolor!… 🙂
The link that originated this here doodle:
And here’s a nice wee link to more of what’s coming:
Peaks & Troughs. Here you go. Have a lovely Solstice even if there’s little cause for celebration. I’m sure we can fin something to make whoopy about. And here’s a wee bit of apocalyptic gossip to make you smile: The world is due to end tomorrow, June21st. Apparently the readers of the Maya prophecy read the calendars (which one I’m not sure) and got it all wrong for 2012, so the End Is Nigher that we thought. Have fun!
Pre-Solstice 2020. Dig out the teddy bears! Pile up the lemon ice cream! Sharpen your dentures! Dark times are coming and the Tories are not going anywhere any time soon -which is why dark times are coming. Still, resistance is not futile. Keep chipping at the boulder. Solstice card proper soon come. Hugs and rockets.
The Great Hong Kong Swindle. Here are the threatened Squiggles with a home truth or two, poor darlings. Actually, it is 1,500.000 citizens. But really it doesn’t matter. One million or one, he has no intention of granting a single solitary passport to nobody nohow. It’s just another of those pathetic exercises in that China-Bashing I predicted right at the start of this pantomime pandemic caper; a direct command from the Masters of The Universe’s own Meat Puppets. Because that’s what globalization is, innit? Monkey see, monkey do. What fun…:-(
The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.
Mazed Snakes. I wanted to do something quite different. Perhaps a nice, nasty & incisive, finely tuned ad hominem attack –plenty to choose, as usual. But this came out instead. More like a laconic, generalized ad humanitas barb. Well, I gave up the illusion that I am in control of my creatures a long time ago. They are in charge. I don’t make them, they make me. Also, there is something about using the two Android Adobes (Photoshop Sketch and Draw) that seems to beget snakes (and squiggles). So here they are, a small clutch of profoundly shocked snakes commenting on the general state of things. I’ve got a lovely bunch of squiggles in the backburner. Sooooon come. Meanwhile, have a splendid week and un po’ di mu.
Snub Fish. aka Deep Sea Tittle Tattle II. By all means applaud then, laud them, call them heroes, ask people to paint soppy, celebratory rainbows and donate £5 to the same NHS your and all administrations ever since Tony Blair’s PFIs* have been gutting. Please do. Indulge yourself in a bit of feel-good cant. As long as come pragmatic crunch time you stab them in the back. And may the next plague take you.
So say the Snub Fish. And if they say so, I say so, too.
Also, to reinforce the message, have a link to one of Martin Rawson’s latest:
And one from a nicely miffed NHS doctor, fed up to the back teeth with all this clappity-clappity-clap:
See, even the Guardian has its uses, as I’ve acknowledged before. 🙂
* With the Telegraph’s blessing:
In Memoriam. Julio Anguita. May 2020. The good die young they say. The good oldies die, too. Briefly, the good die. Whilst the bastards seem to thrive like venomous weeds. Well, probably Entropy IS the Mother of Us All indeed.
Two little Haida birds have come to join me in my grief. Another light gone from my increasingly darker sky. Another lucid mind, another clean heart gone up the cypress path. Another twin soul leaves the fraught stage. And I here, like a lemon, feeling once more like a serial orphan. Fortunately he’s leaving behind a substantial heritage. We shall not see his like again but with a bit of luck we’ll see pretty good approximations. And as I never tire of saying, perhaps is a good thing he’s gone now, before things get so unbelievably ugly that even the stoutest of hearts might feel tempted to throw the sponge, or pawn the towel, or whatever it is that one does when ones gives up an curls up and croaks. Personally I often have the feeling that maybe it is time my subatomic particles joined the club of the Dearly Departed. And then my particles, and Rosa’s particles and don Julio’s particles’ and William “Billy the Kid”’s particles and my friend Ash’s particles can get together and have a good gossip and play Race you to Alpha Centauri! games with the neutrinos. Losing games, I know, but it’s the though, the intention wot counts.
Goodbye, don Julito, darling mine. . I raise my glass and my fist to you. You live, even in death.
Here, have a nice article/obituary and a shufti with soundtrack & all of the man himself (Spanish only), and un po’ di suitable mu’. Also a grand week, if you can get it.
Never say die! Golden (73) Years. Friends old and new have dropped in, defying the “distancing” diktat and two-fingering the engineered paranoia, to celebrate the fact that I’m still around, alive -if not well, and pretty much as they left me last year; that is unrepentant and obnoxious. They have brought me the usual gifts. You know: flowers (or flehs, as Primus calls them), Godivas by the boxful, mock pearls, and so on. Also, the new little Black Poppet*, the vessel that contains what I most need in these trying and tiring days: Infinite Patience. The ineffable Black Goat of the Woods with Far Too Many Riotous Churumbeles, has attended again. And, lo! She’s smiling!!! Admittedly, it is a wicked smile but all the same, it’s astonishing. I suspect she’s beginning to develop a sense of fun. Really, I don’t know what the Final Void is coming to.
A bonus this year has been that as well as receiving gifts, I have had the chance to make one present. A much wanted one, too. There, all is fluffy.
Have the customary un po’ di mu’ and stay awkward, stay silly and stay sane.
*The little Black (Voodoo) Poppet has a White Twin who will make her debut soon. El que avisa no es traidor.
1) Travellers. It’s a drag when you’re trying to mind your own business as you follow your road and, out of the blue, you acquire unsolicited company. Still, it’s the road you picked for yourself and that’s bound to attract strange fellow travellers, be it only because it’s a road not over-frequented. Who knows, maybe this Chaos feels a wee bit lonely; or it’s a very sociable Chaos and all he wants is a little chin-wag as it, too, goes its own sweet way. One never knows, with Chaos, does one?
2) Traveller. Here we see another story, no less enticing and/or exemplary. This little chap also goes its own way. Only, its way varies with its moods and tends towards the erratic. What matter to it is to keep on moving, from one place to the new one, little unpredictably endearing butterfly that it is.