Gorgs Graphic Souk

Messengers. For the lovely (and ineffable) Premila, Da (of the Desert), Eric Fromm and, for the pure hell of it and because he got the ball rolling, for poor old dead Terenci Moix. The caption is not a pun, not really; or not only. Meet Eleuterio, the free & easy clairvoyant, emissary to the Fringe Badlands Numina. He reports stuff as and when has been decreed by said High Spirits. He has a girlfriend called Cassandra whom nobody likes because she goes around saying things like ‘Dooooom’d we be! Doooooom’d! I’ve got a touch of the dooooms!.’ But Eleuterio loves her dearly because she’s kind and sweet and funny and in between gloomy prophecies she mixes the meanest bullshots this side of the Delta (of the Mighty Urook). Have a sponditious week.

Winds of Change.

Strong wind destroy our home
Many dead, tonight it could be you
Strong wind, strong wind
Many dead, tonight it could be you

Ah, if only! But, but! Hope springs eternal.

https://www.urdupoint.com/en/world/croatia-to-withdraw-its-forces-from-nato-in-e-1455572.html

https://sputniknews.com/20220125/croatia-to-withdraw-its-forces-from-nato-in-event-of-russia-ukraine-conflict-1092505242.html

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-60099924

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/jan/26/nato-allies-policy-russia-ukraine-analysis

Take Two. And here be another, slightly less gloomy version. You may vote if you have nothing better to do.

The Navigators. aka A Shot in the Dark. You know what it’s like. You’re plodding along the selva oscura that your life has become, the via diritta having been blurred out of the picture some time back. But you don’t mind. You’re still able to hack a trail through it and deal with the ambushes and the attacks by the marauders and strike the odd alliance with the occasional fellow traveller, few and far between though they may be. So all in all the journey, if not exactly tickety-boo, is at least bearable. And suddenly you find yourself in a pitch-black spot. No prelude. No warning. You know that it’s not a black hole because you still have your integrity (both physical and metaphysical), but you simply can’t see shit-on-a-stick ahead of you. Dearie me! What a bummer. Well let’s hope that it’s only a temporary aberration, a passing stupid state state or a random psychic storm soon to subside. Quite often these things sort themselves out, especially with a little help from friends, allies and the odd accomplice. Have a resplendent weekend. May the light of luminous dissent shine upon you and yours.

Leeee & Leeloo. (For domestic consumption and selected friends only). Here be Leelee and Leeloo, the dancing Voodoo Poppets. They bring you the Sacred Crikkitt Bat for to smite the miasmas of End Days Crapitalism and clobber in the bud any attempts by the Forces of Pap to discourage you from your task of rebelling. And resisting and biting and generally making a nuisance of yourself. Enjoy!

Ranting Bear. In these dreams, I would always be in what I can only describe as a multi-level bazaar, a marketplace without borders that was filled with what seemed an infinite number of crumbling structures of all shapes, many of them with odd, unnamable objects arranged behind warped windowpanes.”contorted blobs and twisted figurines contrived and aligned to forbidding effect. And everywhere there were carts with grotesque merchandise dangling from canopies with a leathery appearance, a dried and cracked material that I knew to be human flesh. Both above and below me were dark expanses of jagged stairways and corridors, fragile walkways between tilting towers, and undulating ramps that spiraled down into shadowy depths and upwards into shadowy heights.

Thomas Ligotti. The Spectral Link

Bearing Gifts. As usual, I prefer to start a new year on a nice Sweetness & Light note. That leaves me with 360-odd days for the rants and the cursing. (In fact, there is one of those in the oven as we speak -so to speak). In any case, especially in these crappy end-days, love is always something to be pushed and promoted and spread and, if at all possible, practiced. Not easy, I know; almost everything else tends to make it challenging. The trends are towards hate and division, and quarrelling and emphasizing the differences. The Masters of the Universe become increasingly repulsive and their doctrines progressively more unacceptable. Let us combat them best we can. Have a good year. May a thousand little fishes fall in love with you.

New Year 2022 Have a brisk 2022. Love and maracas.

Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing..

George Orwell

Solstice 2021 (the Real One, this time). There. This time I’ve got it right. Checked with 3 different calendars. All said tomorrow IS the Winter Solstice. So, have a good one of you can manage it at all, please do. (You know the drill, by now: it annoys Henry Kissinger etc.) Love, sunbeams and raised fists (or middle fingers).

Voodoo Poppet 2. Meet Amorosa, the Other Voodoo Poppet. She brings you the latest model of All-Purpose Gripe Indicator: the DIY APGI. Into her lovingly hand-crafted numinous blank vituperative speech bubble you record your beef of choice and Robert Balfour is your father’s brother. Metchik! Word to the wise. Think twice about what you register as your miserere du jour. Like her twin, Poppy, Amorosa she may be by name and by nature but stupid and/or non-discriminating she ain’t. You try and carp about, say, “the crisis of masculinity. or “the migrant problem. or some such shite and she’ll give you very short shrift, she will. You’re welcome.

This here doodle is for Ash’s 9^th anniversary and for my lovely friend Ms. P.P.