“Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools… who changed the truth of God into a lie. . . for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature:and likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the women, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly . . .” –St. Paul, Romans I. HE SLIPPED INTO A CORNER BOOTH AWAY FROM THE dancing men, where it was quietest, where the odors of musk and frangipani hung less heavy on the air. A slender lamp glowed softly in the booth. He turned it down: down to where only the club’s blue overheads filtered through the beaded curtain, diffusing, blurring the image thrown back by the mirrored walls of his light, thin-boned handsomeness. “Yes sir?” The barboy stepped through the beads and stood smiling. Clad in goldsequined trunks, his greased muscles seemed to roll in independent motion, like fat snakes beneath his naked skin. “Whiskey,” Jesse said. He caught the insouciant...

 Beau and I were out on the bay, not fishing but just enjoying the afternoon.  I had never used this type of boat before, and it had a good outboard motor.  I was delighted to be on the water with this most excellent of cats, I was very happy to see him again.  I was petting him and rubbing his head when he put a paw on my leg and said, 'I'm cold'.  That's when I woke up and remembered my darling kitty was gone and I had been dreaming.  But I sure enjoyed seeing him again, I miss him terribly.  

 Me and my grandmother, Jewell Bogan Davis.  July 19th, 1980.

Putting Mingo to sleep when he got sick was not a hard choice to make.  It is hard living with that choice.  I loved him very much and I will always miss him, as I miss all my loved ones.  It is lovely outside, I am facing Little Bay as I write, and it is all over sailboats and watercraft.  The seasons used to last forever.  All possibilities were endless.  The day would last, well, all day.  But I was never happy.  I take refuge in my drawings of talking animals, and even I realize that I am not up to the mark.I read a lot but nothing like I used to.  Adventure is no fun if you are aware that you could never join in on it.  Without dreams life is dull and arid.Yet I walk outside and it is so nice to have such weather.     See you at the bridge, Mingo.  First posted April 1, 2018.

  Jack is an uberbizarre webcomic by David Hopkins. It is one of the most reviled on the net.  I think it is worth looking at. https://jackrabbit.thecomicseries.com/comics/715/ #content -start Jack, a rabbit, is the embodiment of wrath as well as the grim reaper. To say the least this is a very strange story. This is the best of it, he should have done more like this. The mainspring of the comic is Heaven, Hell, Judgement and extreme violence. Rape and torture are common. I think Mr. Hopkins could have done much better, judging from the above link. Oh, well, he gets noticed in spite of the wildly uneven artwork and writing. In other words, many say that Dave can't draw comics, but no one can say he didn't. This is one weird comic.

  Billy D. Bunny as Hellboy.  That's his dad, Azzael, to your left.  Mike Mignola is such an awesome artist and writer that I gotta nerve drawing this, but I do have a nerve.  Hellboy's mom is a witch who repented as she lay dying, she was then put into a chained up coffin and something happens about that later on.  Just to show that I play fair here is Mr. Mignola's picture of father and son having some quality time together, allowing the alert viewer to discern the slight differences in my fanart from his wildly successful comic as to technique and ability, therein. Hellboy and Azzael, Mike Mignola, and pretty fucking good at that. https://hellboy.fandom.com/wiki/Azzael Several artists have illustrated Hellboy but the two that I like best after Mike Mignola are Richard Corben and P. Craig Russell, both of whom greatly contributed to my eventual adult instability, irresponsible outlook, and permanent escape into a world of fan...