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Nation-States of the Mind

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?

Una de cal y una de arena (One part lime and one part sand)

Conillets (Baby rabbits). Here’s a rehash of an old Catalan counting rhyme for the game of Hide & Seek.

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:


Music. Here, a little sweet nothing, to counteract all the bile brought forth by my poor liver -not to mention my heart, over the Catalan Soap Opera. Let’s play on, people, let’s play on.

Another Anniversary

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!

Safe Again

EgyptSEgypt. There you go. Something nice and safe and non-contentious. A pretty lady. A cute animal she’s borrowed from Honduran myffology. Trees, flowers and moonlight. All is fluffy again…for now. And it’s almost non-p’litical. Almost. Read the inscription along the trees flanking milady. Look at her face carefully. Extrapolate. Use your imagination. Have a nice day.

The Man Who Would Be King

KingBonkSKingBonk aka The Radish King. (un) rave. (pl. raves). n. : Catalan for radish. Also, as in the English “snap”, something worthless, of little or no value. Like in the saying: “Aixo no m’importa un rave”= I don’t give a toss/I don’t care one bit about that. The quotation is from Salvador Espriu’s Primera historia d’Esther. : Anathema upon him who excites the resentment of the primitive against the supremacy of the spirit. For primitive read the naive, the uninformed, the simple-minded, the wilfully ignorant and the opportunist who thinks he’s being ever so clever.

Deep Sea Shenanigans

MarineLifeOh how I love to do things with borrowed & modified clipart! Here’s a little scene showing the rapture of the inhabitants of the DeepDeepDeep on discovering some unexpected gifts from an anonymous donor. See, nor everything is gloom & doom all the time. Long live frivolity!

Dangerous Clowns

TwoIdiotsSTwo Idiots. Question: Why is it that the moment anybody starts bandying about the words “freedom” and/or “self-determination” people’s brains seem to turn to mush and collapse into a little heap of uncritical, indiscriminating, romantic, often paranoid sentimentality? Let’s face it, Rajoy IS one of the ghastliest of all vicious, incompetent cretins you’ll ever see, no question, but anyone who thinks that Puigdemont is any better is living in cloud cuckoo land. Nor is the Independentista movement a popular, let alone a progressive, for-and-by-the-people one. It’s a mendacious mental wank dreamed up by a bunch of xenophobic, deluded, utterly corrupt middle-class right-wing prats who have been manipulating the lowest common denominator subliminal layer of feelings of the naive, the feeble-minded and the ill-informed for the longest time. And who now, their backs against the wall and facing a very real possibility of an enquiry into their staggering financial shenanigans (from Jordi Pujol, his sons, his missus, Marta Ferrusola, his heir apparent “King”Artur Mas, all the way down to the current [mis]administration), in a desperate bid to create a diversion, got rolling this gruesome ball that has bloated out of control and into the chaos this hapless region is now living. Oy vey! I say. (By the way, 90%… my Auntie Nelly and her elderly cat!) Have a nice future my erstwhile motherland. You shouldn’t have been caught napping. You should have remembered what Goya put into an unforgettable image: The sleep of reason begets monsters. (El sueño de la razón produce monstruos.) Bon profit, nens…

PuigdémonUpdate 24/10/17 No quieres caldo… Yesterday’s cartoon has been received with mostly stony silence. Obviously it has grated on the mushy-brained. Never mind. We keep 1) Stubbornly stuck to our guns and 2) Toujours gai! Toujours gai!. Ale op.


Something Old and Something Older

MayaMissesMaya Misses. Here be a couple of world-wise&weary lassies bringing you a useful, all-purpose caustic commentary on things in general and politics in particular. Use it as you see fit. Change the “he” to a “she” and you can use it on women too, from Hilary Clinton, to Nicole Kidman*, to that good old staple, Theresa May. You’re welcome.  http://www.newsmax.com/US/Nicole-Kidman-Support-Trump/2017/01/12/id/768269/

ProtoCthulhusSAnd here’s a wee picture of some of the things that used to go on (and on) back in the good old days before time, space, relativity, ice cream, Marx  and duck-billed platypuses.