Category: Uncategorized

Words, Words, Words

Synergy. This is a little something I did for a friend who mistook synergy for synchronicity. Nothing like some dancing damsels to illustrate what is what.

Autochthonous Myffos

Come to Tea. More Catalan Stuff. Starring the original Cucafera (de Tarragona): The famous Vermis Ferus Tarraconensis:
She was noticed by a talent-spotter from the Mid-Badlands on a weekend break in that beautiful region of Catalonia. He fell in love with the delicious creature then and there and he invited her to a tea-shindig forthwith. The adventurous worm accepted with alacrity and off she went to the perfumed knees-up, where she was an unmitigated success and charmed everybody off their socks. I do love a good love story, don’t you?

More Grassland Shenanigans

Shoggies in the Grass. aka True Bliss. Really, who cares if the the flower is no longer all that bright and the grass has lost some of its splendour, as long as there are Shoggies in it? And yes, this is the last of the series Denizens of the Tall Grasslands, also known as the Whehthefuckahwe. Have a spiffing week.

Long Ago And Far Away

Landscape3. Remember, remember 11 September.
This is a memorial for 11 September. No, not that one. Or that one the Catalans like both to celebrate and kvetch about (how’s that for cognitive dissonance?). This is for the other-other one, the one that befell Chile 50 years ago. The one nobody likes to remember, let alone talk about.
Karma, cause & effect, what goes ‘round comes ‘round, you push here something pushes back there…call it what you will, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Or as Michel Foucault pithily said: “Where there is power, there is resistance.”
But the Greening Plodder and her pal, the Mouthy Mouse, remember. And they say so , loudly and with great wealth of sordid detail. Which, of course, irritates the Sanctimonious Reverend and his tiny indentured dependant. This is a small but not insignificant part of the exercise, naturally.
Never hesitate to speak heresy. These days of blatant, endless lunacy, is the only thing that makes life bearable. Well, that and teddy bears.
Henry Kissinger may you rot in Hell in the company of Milton Friedman and all his minions.
Have a lovely week.

Twist & Shout

Brief Encounter X
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower
We will grieve not,
Rather, we will dance and drink and riot and make merry and to hell with the flipping Sacred Markets
and the Vampire Industrial Complexes!
So tells the fierce chubby chappie to the also chubby wraiths. We, The Family and yours truly, are all behind him. Life’s too short.


CucaFera and Baby. Catalan Stuff I. This be the reworking of a cover of a very short-lived Catalan satirical magazine published in Barcelona between April and August 1917. I’m pretty sure the contents wouldn’t have been my cup of Rosie even then but I do love some of the graphics of that period.
My CucaFera (Vermis Indomitus Cultus) and her baby, whose name is Laia, have come across a wandering self-exiled Yithian teenager who left its wonder-city back in primeval down-under because of a strong disagreement with the Chief Librarian. See it here, blubbering on lavishly about all the wrongs done to it and how it misses the humid swamps and the luxuriant forests of giant ferns and, worse of all, its loss of library privileges. The scholarly creeper, always sympathetic to such melancholy cases and a sucker for a sob story has offered the defecting youth a loan of her own collection of literary masterpieces, like the complete works of Emma Goldman and a comprehensive edition of Garcia Lorca’s poetry. Such a kind creature, she is.
Warning: More varieties of Catalan Worms/Dragons/Snakes/Whatnots coming soon.

Friends And Family

Dino Stroll. Here’s a sweet little family scene. Mrs. Dino and her young daughter Lilly have gone for a wee walk and met the ineffable Shub-Niggurath rambling upon the hills and brooding in the forests and being permanently unhappy, as it’s Her wont. Mrs. D. never misses an opportunity to give wise counsel, whether solicited or not, so here she is telling the Shubby to chill out and relax and smell the flowers. It’s all very well, though, for the laid-back saurian to give such advice; she has a nice Mr. Dino back in the swamp, who helps with the cleaning and tidying and the communal babysitting, and only one nipper, so far. Whereas the poor old incomparable Black Goat of the Woods has 999* Young -all very badly behaved and inclined to rioting at a drop of a hat- no mate to help with the rearing and education of said juvenile yahoos and hardly ever a babysitter -which is not surprising as She tends to eat them, bless Her monster socks. I do do the odd stint as Young-minder when I can see that She’s getting really stressed. The Wee Worms chip in and that gives the Ineffable One a chance to piss off to beautiful Lake Hali for a long weekend. In exchange for the respite She tells me “things”. Give and take, that’s out motto.

    *999 because one of Her Young took off some years gone to travel the Void and have adventures and, most significantly, to stay away from music lessons in general and flutes in particular, with which he had a thorny relationship (basically he broke them). Young 753 as he then was (now renamed Oops by Lavinia, the Hyper-Penguin) is doing very well and dutifully writes home regularly -which doesn’t stop Mother from grumbling about filial ingratitude. Cría cuervos… She mutters now and again. Secretly, though, She’s dead proud of Her intrepid and enterprising offspring.

    Navigation Skills

    Tall Grass. aka Fish Out of Water. This here lot have lost their way and are now stranded in tall grass terrain. Oh dear. What a bummer. The twin suns are nearly as nonplussed as the poor wee darlings. Let’s hope they can help them find their way out of the woods soon-soon.

    Floating Feelings

    Water Royalty. aka Watery Royals. No, I’m not about to embark on the designing of yet another Tarot deck. I’ve committed this sin already and once is more than enough. But these two just popped out of my e-pen spontaneously and who am I to argue with self-generated manifestations of graphic life? So here they are. Say hello to Mr. And Mrs. “Ah feel your pain…” (Also your joy, your delight, your indignation, your rage, your fear, your mirth, your tedium, your deepest desires and the nagging suspicion that the world is going to the perritos in a hand basket really fast.) Have a spiffing week.

    Female Mysteries

    Attention. The long quotation is from Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, a book that I’ve just started reading (a la vejez, viruelas…) and I’m quite enjoying, amongst other things because at least she had a sense of humour, unlike some second wave feminists. -let alone the third and fourth-wave ones. The Doggie’s quote graces the introduction of the same book and is by a French geezer, François Poulain de la Barre, and is one of the very (VERY) few things ever said by a bloke about women that isn’t a lot of cobblers. (In fact it’s spot on and it’s just what I’ve been saying for the past three decades.) Not that women haven’t talked (and still talk) a lot of bollocks on the very same subject, let’s be fair. But nowhere near by a long, long chalk as the self-styled masters of creation have, which has had such dismal effects on the human race at large and the female contingent in particular. PS. The Doggie’s name is Calanda. She’s not a Cagnolito of Tindalos but she’s closely related to them on her third auntie’s side.