Mister Scribbles

I put double humbuckers in a small guitar and it sounded, er...loud!  I just love fucking with machinery I don't know a goddamn thing about!

I used to stop for a smoke break at Goliad on my way to the coast.  Greg, the demon bunny, is really pissed off that I will not kill myself so he can present me as a substitute and move on up the ladder in Hell.  But I figure why should I rush things just for some dumbass dead rabbit? Greg is in a great deal of trouble.

This is a Hamer Slammer that I bought cheap.  It is now my best sounding guitar.  All my guitars deserve better than me.

Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch, That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony Toyed coolly with the final inch Of your delirious Hem— And you dropt, lost, When something broke— And let you from a Dream— As if a Goblin with a Gauge— Kept measuring the Hours— Until you felt your Second Weigh, helpless, in his Paws— And not a Sinew—stirred—could help, And sense was setting numb— When God—remembered—and the Fiend Let go, then, Overcome— As if your Sentence stood—pronounced— And you were frozen led From Dungeon's luxury of Doubt To Gibbets, and the Dead— And when the Film had stitched your eyes A Creature gasped "Reprieve"! Which Anguish was the utterest—then— To perish, or to live? Emily Dickinson Far be it from me to mention pent up sexual repression, no sir, I would never bring up something like that, uh uh.

My two halves are at it again.  Why can't they get along?

As I Am, So They Were As They Are, So I Will Be Yeah, right, thinks the bunny.  These clowns got statues.  Better a stone lion in the White Witch's courtyard than a dead rabbit in a hole.  Billy draws on his smoke, and then mumbles- "A hole if I'm lucky". Billy worries about things that don't matter to anyone. Though I am young, and cannot tell Either what Death or Love is well, Yet I have heard they both bear darts, And both do aim at human hearts. And then again, I have been told Love wounds with heat, as Death with cold; So that I fear they do but bring, Extremes to touch, and mean one thing. Ben Jonson, Death and Love But Billy's time for love is past, and Death is in the future.  The darts of love have led to Hell, the darts of Death will be reprieve.  After that is anyone's guess!

This is a 2013 drawing of the Dempsey - Willard fight, and it shows what I could have done had I any fucking idea whatsoever about cartooning.  By trying to post daily, I turned out a lot of VERY BAD ART. 

Leo Fender could not play a note.

steve @_livingdog - Instagram  

Jack McGurn puts the last one in the head of a bent optician who liked to hang out with gangsters.  Everyone agreed that this was one doozy of a prank!  February 14, 1929.  2122 North Clark Street. Jack McGurn     After his beloved step-father was murdered, seventeen year-old McGurn returned to New York to stalk his killers, hunting them down one by one with prodigious alacrity.  As the twig is bent...   https://www.babyfacenelsonjournal.com/jack-mcgurn.html  

Being a guy suits Billy just fine.  It is not like this rabbit was made for responsibility or consideration. 

Wesley Ryan Clapp.  This was a Smithsonian magazine cover.  Nice!

 Sure hope you catch him, officer. 

Hi.  I'm Billy.  I'll be your psychopomp today.  What's that?  No, he has the day off.  And that better be a silver dollar under your rotting tounge, Sparky, I don't work for free.  Oh, you want the man himself?  Time stops down here, enjoy the wait.  Swim if you want to, this ain't the Styx but the Gulf.  You don't want to so much as dip a toe in this, believe you me. Because I fucked up when I was alive, that's why!  I've seen your record, pal, and you are in for quite the interesting time.   Well, suit yourself.  I gotta bus accident to deal with.

See what I mean?

"And you are Sanger Rainsford of New York City, the famous big game hunter.  I have read your book on hunting snow leopards in Tibet".

How wonderful to be alive.  Billy and crew rejoice in the day! https://youtu.be/HZFTUtbn1RU Well, here I am piggybacking on a masterpiece cartoon in order to give my own stuff some flavor.  But no need to feel guilty while watching this, the responsiblity for this theft is all on me!

Another elegant line drawing by my brother. steve @_livingdog - Instagram

Dad was in the producing game for a while, and here he appears with his buddy George Reeves.  Dad always said that suicide thing was bullshit. These two were my first heroes.

Cab Calloway rotoscoped, and shoehorned into, Betty Boop as Snow White.  All, say again all, the art and animation was done by Roland Crandall.  This is far beyond impressive.   What I would give for a few of these background drawings.  Fuck! It took Mr. Crandall 6 months to do this cartoon. https://youtu.be/bFBx3qYGxL8 I don't post these things because I think that they are bad.  This man was a genius among geniuses, and yes, I do feel bad about how black people were treated back in the day.   But that has nothing to do with me. Roland and Betty. http://rarebit.org/?people=roland-crandall

I passed a very old man on a bench and I thought he was dead.  I touched his shoulder and he got up and shuffled away. True story!

How could I pose nude?  I am asked. Why, the room was very well heated, I reply.

   Flamma plays for keeps, and his best friend means nothing compared to claiming a victory. 

Not good art but great morale!

In which Billy is very pleased with a guitar project.

This is such a great town.  Why just today I saw something totally unforgettable! I don't remember what it was, but it was awful cool.

Yes, I draw the same thing over and over.  Please remember that this is a hobby and not art.  I draw Billy/Flamma the way I wish to look.  I sure would like to be young again but I would just make the same mistakes so that would be dragging out the inevitable. Endgame.

Old friends can talk about things that others are not part of and would not understand.   There is no better place to have fun outdoors than Padre Island.

My brother loves to draw using his new phone.  I sure wish he could get more work, he deserves some recognition.  Whatever one might say about his stuff, it ain't dull!   steve @_livingdog - Instagram

Billy fills out jeans very well indeed.  Here we see him trying on cheap jewelry and annoying his competition.

I drew this in 1982 as a sketch for an oil painting that I never completed.  This is vaguely supposed to be some incident in the 7 years war.   I have lost most of the art I did when I thought I could be a comic artist.  I used to give away pictures that I very much wish I had now.  I gave a friend from New York an original Spain print of Trashman.  What the hell was I thinking? This is all fucked up from age and careless storage, yet I think I was onto something.   I am putting this up to show that at one time I had dreams and drive.

Thracian Peltast.  The name comes from a round shield with a semi-lune cut out of it, the Pelta.  He carries some heavy short spears,  and each is wrapped with a long strip of leather.  He will hold one end of the strip as he throws it, giving the spear a spiral.  At 30 yards these things punch through hoplite armor like it is not there.  A few of these guys in front of an advancing phalanx could lay the whup on the enemy.  He wears a foxskin hat and a boiled leather cuirass.  The hoplites had no defenses against these guys except The Balearic Slinger.  The naked skirmishers carried a sling with a pouch of lead bullets, football shaped.  There is one in the British Museum with the word Dexa inscribed on it.  (Catch). These men trained their entire life to use the sling, and it was more effective than bows except for formation use. These things would kill at about 150 yards. http://tywkiwdbi.blogspot.com/2013/09/sl...

First come, first served. 

The road to the market is safe - for now!

Earlier I mentioned my problems with Greg, who needs a soul to replace him on the bottom rung of Hell before he can move up in the hierarchy.  Greg hates rockabilly, being strictly a heavy metal type when he was alive.  Here he discovers I have no intention of offing myself, and since he is stuck with me he has to listen to my music.  You have never seen a revenant so pissed off. Blow me, Greg, go home and see if they will give you a second chance! https://youtu.be/hM-QE9ZELzw Lets romp and stomp.

Circa 1982, I lived in a part of Dallas that was just all over sex crazed young people.  The local grocery was just the most incredible meat market, and marriage meant nothing to anyone but me, it seemed.  Fuck!  I missed out on so much fun.

Shooting targets and cans is no fun at all.  But change comes to us all, and now the idea of taking any life except human bothers me no end.  When Cecil the lion was lured out of that preserve to be killed by a wealthy dentist I was outraged.  I don't care that no laws were broken.  The days of trophy hunting are over.  I would allow big game hunting on one condition.  You go alone and armed with just a matchlock.  No backup.  Not a miquelet, snaphaunce, or flintlock.  Those weapons are far too reliable.  I guess I would allow a spear as well, good luck with that. Naturally, I am not talking about hunting for food or for mankillers.  I am for putting the sport back into murder! In the picture, Billy is thinking on friends that used to be as cold and vicious as he was.  They had so much fun together. Billy is out on the flats shooting a scoped .22 Magnum rifle, light, lovely, and not too expensive to purchase or use...

A lifeform for every niche, that's our motto. .

Killing is the best aphrodisiac.  Flamma loves all the attention. New Rome is probably going to reconsider enslaving rabbits as fighters. This bunny could have escaped a long time ago.  But rabbits just want to have fun!

So many friends dead now.  Oh, well, it comes for us all. https://youtu.be/QPNqojbyIDk Rock on, Rabbit!

I have no idea what is going on here.  I think Billy is killing a werewolf. 

Billy likes meeting like minded others.  What a shame there are so few of them!

This bunny plays for keeps. His words are stolen from the Orc General in Return of the King.  It looks like the Emperor has decided what to do with this outrageous bunny.

Here I have the sad duty of burying a cat hit and run by a heartless driver.  This never gets easier.  This was in 2015. (A lady down the street came and told me about the dying cat.  I went and checked, and it was dead when I got there.  I put him in the backyard and covered the lovely kitty with flagstones.  He was a huge tabby and I was extremely sad although I had never seen him before.  There is no excuse for hit and run, none.  To leave an animal in extremis will bring the wrath of heaven into your life.  Fuck, I sure wished it worked that way).

I don't need anyone.  My life is complete.  I am master of all I survey.