Gorgs Graphic Souk

Birthday Jungle. Ever since I turned 60 I’ve been pleasantly astonished by each subsequent birthday. I consider as something short of a miracle that they keep on happening. But there you have it; they do. And they keep on finding me, so far, pretty impenitent, frivolous and defiant. May this trend last for a bit longer, even if I know that I’ll never see the downfall of Crapitalism. But no so long that I may have to witness the complete overwhelming of all that is beautiful and good and right and groovy by that ultimate, Azathoth-like expression of it unleashed upon this lovely planet. Cheers.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azathoth

Just Passing Through. You know, some folks just can’t take a bit of style and a touch of class. The Badlands are riddled with this sad types, what can I say. To make up for that there are creatures like the Foxioid who know what is what. I’ll drink to them!

Party Girls. (May 1968/May 2018) The slogan “If you can’t beat them, join them. is pure cringing Slavethink. How much more keen and spirited is “If you can’t beat them, bite them”! Which is what we always say in my neck of the woods. And here, to practice what we preach, are these two hardy perennial unrepentant party girls, the beautiful Gorgo-Mormo and the ineffable Shub-Niggurath, sharing a shindig and drinks and gossip and plans for The Revolution That Might Never  Come. And fuck you, too, Warren Buffet! 🙂

https://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/26/business/yourmoney/26every.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/plum-line/post/theres-been-class-warfare-for-the-last-20-years-and-my-class-has-won/2011/03/03/gIQApaFbAL_blog.html?utm_term=.da7d846a343b

Rapists to the Wall!This is for everyone involved in the hideous affair of la Manada. Either as an expression of solidarity for the victim and her supporters, or as a fervent curse to the judges who passed a sentence on the offenders that is tantamount of an endorsement of murderous misogynistic violence (with a special mention to the dissenting magistrate who wanted to let the criminals go free), to the imbecile and corrupt defence of said psychopaths, and to anyone who supported them and, as usual, made the victim out to be at fault if not actually lying. And naturally, my best and most ferocious curses to the five premier league sick bastards who did the horrid deed. Call yourself a pack? You insult pack animals, you gruesome assholes. Animals don’t do what you did to that poor girl. May you all rot in Hell and may your stupid dicks fall off and be eaten by itinerant piranhas. The motto in the placard means, loosely and Gorgonicall speaking: Little raping males to the grinder! NB. In Spanish the term “machito., little male, is, always, intentionally and deeply offensive. As it should be.

 

Gordita. Her name is Blossom. I don’t know what she does. When asked, she replies she does “Ninja stuff”. That’s good enough for me. She laughs a lot, sings beautifully and cooks a mean tortilla de patatas. She and her delicious companions are welcome to stay for as long as they like. The Shoggies, always great admirers of sheer bulk, are much taken with her and they sing this to her all day long:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMSWoIKUt98&app=desktop

And this is for the Dread Mayhem Queen, just for the Hell of it (and because I love Jimmy Cliff). May her despicable teeth someday adorn some wall of shame or other like a cautionary inlaid pattern, pour encourager les autres.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Znh0OM9jiA

Poppet. Protests and petitions no longer work. Lobbies are all corrupt and on the side of the demons(the real ones, not the designated “diable du jour.). More energetic forms of opposition are increasingly criminalized and punished with venomous vigour. And I’ve never been any good at violence, anyway. So, in case it might work, like Heisenberg was fond of saying about horseshoes, and as a public service to the community, I offer you Poppy, the Generic Voodoo Dolly for you to try your hand at surgically targeting sorcery. She’s very easy and cheap to run (the usual muffins and vodka usually do the trick, although she won’t turn her nose at Austrian chocolate). Her little technowizard companion quite likes pork scratchings, would you believe it. He’s not very refined, I fear. He is French and his motto is “Touchez  pas, salauds!. Anyway, he’s reliable. Good luck and have fun.

Here, to inspire you in your conjuring endeavours:

And just for the hell of it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HT4RainY-lY

Stone Zoo. This is for my comadre Marí­a Clara, who likes crocodiles as long as they’re not real ones. Voila, Cherie! I hope you like this lot.

Sea Life. Somewhere in there, in this image, there should be a Doomsday Clock. Imagine one if you   will.

Fuzzy Miss.Here’s another tall girl, to go with the last one. She fights the Grid, that’s her job. And very good she is at it, too. Likewise she has a side-line in spells to banish the ghastly miasmas that mainstream media leaves in your electromagnetic field, not to mention your brain. She does that for free but she’ll never say no to a gift of flowers or a small bottle of genuine Russian vodka. Her companion tadpoles & wee worm love chocolate.

Shaman. The latest in the series “Tall Girls”. This one undertakes commissions, if she’s in the mood, previous offers of… well, offerings, burnt or otherwise; plus gifts, donations, carrots, bungs and a variety of bribes. If she can be bothered to perform, she’s very effective, if not omnipotent.

Herd Agonies. The “Russia Did It!. hysteria grows and lives long and prospers, I see. Oh, well! It does its job of distracting the hoi polloi from the real issues behind the hoo-hah: a disastrous Brexit, paedophile rings in Westminster, American freckled gas, and so on. Even the FaceFuckingBook & Cambridge Analytica scandal has been linked, by CNN (who else?), to Kremlin interference. But be of good cheer, brothers and sisters! Next time your wife leaves you, or your lover cheats on you with your best friend, or your child starts shooting his classmates, you’ll be able to lay the entire blame (without any need of even an emaciated shadow of evidence or that tiresome old burden of proof), on Vladimir Putin’s doorstep. And if anyone’s wondering  whatever happened to “innocent until proven guilty., I’d remind them that this admirable convention went out of the window after 9/11 and the Patriot Act 2.0 and Guantanamo and the American Gulag and all those exceptional abductions, sorry extraordinary renditions, etc. And nobody said boo!, then as now. So remember, next time, like in the old Lottery add, It Could Be You. And who’s gonna be around to speak up for you? Have a nice Easter.