My brother drew this on a plastic foam takeout container.  It was from a Mexican food restaurant so that might explain the taco. The mouse thing seems to be offering some sort of unholy item, the best greasy lunch ever in exchange for a soul.  Blank eyes give me the creeps, Little Orphan Annie and her fucking dog bother me no end.  Steve draws all the time and on everything.  He draws anthropomorphic animals as part of  his compulsive cartooning, he does not do furry.  I think that this is Disney grade work.  Well, early Felix at least. Behold the damned.

Billy is killing time before going over to visit Betty Bunbun, a lovely girl and a sure fire lay.  She wants Billy's opinion on her new leather underwear and the 8-ball of powerhouse crank she just bought.  There will be some other couples there, and tonight is game night.  Nothing like a fun get-together with like minded friends.  Rabbits are very convivial! Billy is resting up while indulging his twin passions of science and lepidopterolgy.

What a lovely spring day in 'Scapeville.  Softball, cold pop and hot dogs are the order of the day.  The birds are singing, the sky is blue and clear, and fun is on the menu.  Billy is shown playing one of his merry pranks on an unsuspecting friend, and the park rings with howls of laughter.  Billy is the life of any party! Billy always carries a pistol.

Rabbits do not play fair. ‘Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid — Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.’ ‘Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall, ‘But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.’ Readers of my increasingly incoherent posts might wonder if I like Kipling? Gee, I dunno, I've never Kippled!

Paulie Panda and Billy have not seen each other in years. They have got grudging official permission for a reunion.  Lots of water under the bridge with many companions long gone.  Today is a day for seeing the sights and enjoying each other's company.  A lunch of blueberry sandwiches washed down with FuzzyBubbles* was as welcome as could be. When these two were young and immortal, they relished the darkness.  Now as Billy stares towards the west he feels anxiety at the coming of night.  He does not know why.  Paulie is better adjusted and knows his friend is prone to introspection and depression.  But this extremely tough ursid has his moments of terror, along with intrusive memories that are always there.  Once the little rabbit tried to prove himself over and over to the ENfantry of their old unit*, even after it became flagrantly unnecessary.  Since this translated into great professionalism such an attitude worked for everyone.  But those of inherently h

This is what the automobile and tourism did to our once flourishing arts scene.  These redwood joke things were sold all over this nation, but mostly in tourist joints in the Ozarks and out west.  I have never seen this particular example.  Risque for the time and vulgar at any time.  This one is in exceptional condition.  I was tearing out a hurricane damaged old farmhouse today and this was among the clapboards and dirt dauber nests.  It is in like new condition.  All the others I have are alcohol and drinking culture related.  This is probably hand colored from a stencil.  Signed Guy.  1950-70 would be as good a guess as any.  There.  A new anthro bunny post regardless of provenance. I would not be astonished if this was acquired at Dogpatch, USA. We didn't have the internet.  What else was there to do? http://www.lileks.com/institute/vacations/34.html Nothing like some expert opinion.

Here is my fan art of the greatest furry character of them all.  This has none of the sparkle and life that Chuck Jones breathes into Bugs.  This will be the last time I ever try to draw someone else's work. These things are best left to the pros.

Last night at the Rock Bottom was beyond fun!  Here Billy, a real card, gives a hot tail to an out of town bunny.  It is tomfoolery like this that makes Escapeville the tourist mecca that it is!

Sanctuary, The Ivory Tower Above The Fray.  An Artist Is One Of The Residents.  1939. This is by Lynd Kendall Ward, just one of the best.  I was given a copy of Kidnapped that he illustrated c.1965, and I still have it and I still love it.  Lynd published the first graphic novel in English in 1929, Gods' Man.  You will notice that the apostrophe is placed to indicate plurality and not possession. He was influenced by Otto Nuckel, who put out Destiny.  Woodcut from Gods' Man, 1929.  I have no fucking idea whatsoever about what is happening here.  I cannot buy comics and these things are never in libraries. Gods' Man. Gods' Man.  Could this be a reference to the Serpent in the Garden? Destiny, Otto Nuckel, 1926   He was influenced by the Flemish artist Frans Masereel with his graphic novel Passionate Journey, 1919. Destiny.  Destiny. Frans Masereel, Passionate Journey. Salute!  Passionate Journey. P

I found this image while searching for a picture of an old man and a dog to illustrate my post on the Cawein Waste Land poem.  Here is an old man and an old cat who have come to the end of their shared journey.  It is not the artwork but the presentation that I find so heartrending.  The art is good but I see lots of good art without it affecting me like this has.  This is genius. The little cat holds onto the hand of the person he loves and worships.  The man is ready for their journey and he knows that all eternity stretches before him and his beloved friend.  It is hinted that the man is a person of intelligence and extreme kindness.  The cat accepts his hand and is ready to go with his father wherever fate takes them.  He does not know anything except that only goodness will come to him while he is with his human. The man protects his little friend and always will. An ocean is the visual metaphor of time stretching far beyond any human's comprehension.  This i

Waste Land    Madison Julius Cawein  Briar and fennel and chincapin,      And rue and ragweed everywhere; The field seemed sick as a soul with sin,      Or dead of an old despair,      Born of an ancient care. The cricket's cry and the locust's whirr,      And the note of a bird's distress, With the rasping sound of the grasshopper,      Clung to the loneliness      Like burrs to a trailing dress. So sad the field, so waste the ground,      So curst with an old despair, A woodchuck's burrow, a blind mole's mound,      And a chipmunk's stony lair,      Seemed more than it could bear. So lonely, too, so more than sad,      So droning-lone with bees – I wondered what more could Nature add      To the sum of its miseries . . .      And then – I saw the trees. Skeletons gaunt that gnarled the place,      Twisted and torn they rose – The tortured bones of a perished race      Of monsters no mortal knows,      They startled the

As a young bunny, I did a hitch with the Fairy Force, Swamp Division.  One memorable day brought me a dead gopher, and nobody knew a thing, as usual.  Christ, the sun was barely up and I had the higher ups breathing down my neck for answers.  A good cop knows people, and I had my contacts even among the amphibs.  Normally we rabbits avoided the mud like distemper but Louie the Lip owed me one.  It turned out our stiff liked to gamble but didn't like to pay.  I'd have killed him myself if I was in the game.  I buried the evidence and Farley Fox walked.  Now I had an ear to the ground that heard everything.  Of course, the papers got hold of it and somebody had to fall.  After I got out of the stir, I hung out my shingle and went private. The politicos bitched like hell but my license was solid.  It should have been, I handed over more than a few acorns to keep it that way. If you want justice, try the law.  If you want results, you're talking to me! https://mi

Readers of this blog might recall that I have posted several pictures by the very talented Bob Kinsey.  My post on the band his father was in with Ronnie Cox has been getting a lot of hits lately, I have no idea why - as usual.   This was probably a throwaway drawing.  Far be it from me to point out the nubile, lovely goddess with the explosive image of an unstoppable steam cylinder bearing down on her like a huge throbbing, uh, er - ... steam engine!   Only a very vulgar rabbit, I mean person, would mention something like that. This demonic skull was cut out of cardboard and fluttered to my feet as I was dumping boxes of paper on the floor and shrieking at my cats today.  Why was it cut out?  How come I have it?   Where did I put my false teeth? These are the questions, Comrade, that all of us artists must deal with at one point or the other. Oh, the humanity! https://www.robertkinsey-art.com/  

My brother and I grew up on comics and military history.  Both of us wanted to draw the one and argue about the other.  This is a rare example of what he could do when he felt like it.  Signed and undated, probably early 'eighties. I drifted into making stained glass windows, and I quit all artwork about 1987.  I did a few every now and then but it was just for kicks.  He was accepted at a Very Good School but they did not offer enough of a scholarship to allow him to attend.  Now he paints and sculpts, with compulsive cartooning on the side.  I live vicariously through my hyper vain, highly aggressive, and poorly behaved rabbit . Unkind people might say poorly drawn.  Anyhoo, he used to crank this sort of thing out.  I have never been happy with inking and it condemns me to amateur status. There is no title for this so I am calling it good.

Even kittens surrender to Time and his works.  Everything moves from order to disorder, and in Bo's case that means wild disorder. Photo by @sdavis.art on Instagram

Nothing is better than old friends getting together.  Today has been a long cold day of fishing, rain, fog, and not a bite one, yet Paulie Panda, a complete novice, catches dinner for tonight's party.  Everyone is surprised and delighted!