The Family Keeps Growing

The good ship Refusenik has graced my shores once more with her presence, and has been kind enough to bring a new refugee to that welcoming and capacious labyrinth that is my hard drive. His name is PaulDirac O’Higgins-Stein (his mum was a mathematician). He’s very young (a mere 675 years) and quite naive but he takes no shit from nobody. The Refusenick picked him up (and the Penguins) bobbing up & down off the coast of Cape Verde. They were trying to reach Madagascar on a rafter build by the Defecting Penguins with money stolen from Somali pirates. The pirates are well pissed off and they have sworn dread revenge. The plot thickens. Plus one more card. This “angel” is no bringer of peaceful, opiatic bliss. Quite the opposite. Just look at he face. The doggies know. 27/01/10 And another one.



Today I’d like to introduce the few lost souls that ever visit this souk to the art & craft of one of my favourite contacts on Flick’r. I don’t know much about him. He calls himself El Señor Botijo,  he lives in Leuret, a non-existent town not far from where the glorious Don Luis (Buñuel) was born, and  he’s got a fixation with botijos. If you don’t know what a botijo is I feel very, very sorry for you, which is, in part, why I’m hanging one of his pics here. The other part is that I really, really like his stuff, obsessional and one-track-minded though it is. Or perhaps because of it. His montages seldom fail to cheer me up, when not make piss with laughter. I dare say, this says nearly as much about me as it does about him. Anyways, here goes the first of a series of offerings from the gifted toolbox of a true maverick. El Señor Botijo does other stuff that doesn’t contain botijos. It’s also very surreal and very good and often includes sardines. Or what I like to imagine are sardines. One of these days, if you’re  good, I’ll tell you why botijos and sardines float so freely and profusely in an out of the Spanish psyche of a whole generation. The pic I hang here today I’ve entitled Nuestra Señora del Perpetuo Botijo (Our Lady of the Perpetual Botijo), because its author couldn’t be asked to give it a proper title. Mind you, he wrote a very funny caption to go with it. You can go check that I no lie by either dropping in on his site  (  or by going to Flick’r.  One more thing and I’m done. So that OLOTPB won’t feel lonely, I’m hanging next to it an old image I did years ago, in a fit of nostalgia for darling Don Luis. Only those who know well his films will know what I’m on about. Life is a bitch. And Aragon rocks. PS. I was almos forgetting. A botijo is what Our Lovely Lady is carrying in both her delicious hands. Blessed be! 27/01/10 Here, have some more “botijerias”. They’s good for you. Update 10/03/10 Have another Botijada!


You Have Been Duomo’d!

Well, this poor bloke is not quite in the same league as the one who shoe’d Georgy “One-Braincell Porgy” Bush, but in these entropic days we most take our Schadenfreude where we find it, innit? Update 19/12/09 And to keep that lot company, a nice lady. Just don’t fuck with her… Update 28/12/09 I’m feeling massively generous, this year. Have one more Best Wishes card and one true story, that of Simon Bolivar’s horse, Palomo. Update 06/01/2010. More stuff. Happy New Year.


A Shaggy-Rat Story

Once upon a time there were some Rats. Not you common or garden variety but the PanDimensional & TranSubstantial kind. Ultra Rats, you could say. One day I might tell you the whole story. One of these Rats, Calpurnia of The Romans by name, has been expecting her first batch of babies for sometime now. Ages, in fact. In the meantime she’s been driving us all ’round the twist with her gravid vagaries -her prerogative and privilege, no question, but a bloody drag all the same. Particularly trying for to her mate, Aziz of The Egyptians, a life-long supporter of Manchester United, has been her frequent and casual transfer of team loyalties. A devout Man U fan since infancy, she dawned one fine day and decided to go over to Liverpool on no more solid grounds that she liked the colours better. Oh, the drama and the upheaval! Aziz was gutted. Gamal, Aziz’s half-brother on their mother’s side, was shocked. We were all deeply distressed. Things got worse… But all things, good or bad, come to an end. Two days ago, Aziz and I tricked her into delivering the babies at last, in the hope that motherhood may stabilize her, and so she may come back to the true faith. I’m not sure that our little cunning plan has worked, but the babies are bliss. Now, the best we can hope for is that they won’t get into too much trouble before they reach the age of self-determination, in a few weeks time. Hope springs eternal… Update 17/12/09  Cards, cards and more damned cards!


The Enemy Within & Other Stories

Poor Manolito’s been having a hard time, lately. And from those who call themselves his mates, no less. Ah, friends…don’t you love them? Oh, well, have his take on things. And a few new cards. The one in colour is an Xtra, for my good Flick’r compadre, the groovy Patricio Villaroel.


Another Silly Season Just Around the Corner, Alas.

So, here’s my offering for this year. Grooviness to you all. 23/11/09. Plus two new cards. Correction. Four. Update 27/11/09. I don’t “do” Thanksgiving by any means, just as I don’t do Xmas, or Easter, or Walpurgisnacht, or Battle of Chacabuco Memorial Day, but the panto of  Barack Obama on telly being magnanimous to a fat bird was too good to miss as an excuse for yet another shaggy-poultry story.



My mate Kay, who is also into self-portraits -and very  good she is, too (check her out on Flick’r, under Kay-Harpa), kindly gave me permission to take liberties with her beautiful face. Here are the results. One with a Rousseau background and one with one on my favourite Rodchenkos. Cheers, Kay! Update. 26/07/09 And here’s my latest self-portrait. To keep Kay’s lovely face company.