Mister Scribbles

The moon spun. The woman watched. Twenty-one facets had been polished at the moon's equator. Her function was to arm it. She was Mother Hitton, the Weapons Mistress of Old North Australia. She was a ruddy-faced, cheerful blonde of indeterminate age. Her eyes were blue, her bosom heavy, her arms strong. She looked like a mother, but the only child she had ever had died many generations ago. Now she acted as mother to a planet, not to a person; the Norstrilians slept well because they knew she was watching. The weapons slept their long, sick sleep. This night she glanced for the two-hundredth time at the warning bank. The bank was quiet. No danger lights shone. Yet she felt an enemy out somewhere in the universe—an enemy waiting to strike at her and her world, to snatch at the immeasurable wealth of the Norstrilians—and she snorted with impatience. Come along, little man, she thought. Come along, little man, and die. Don't keep me waiting. She smiled when...

The jackalope who could not get down off the tall horse, just the best.  And who can forget Spank? I lived for nightly storytime, and all my animal friends made life just that much better.    This got both the Newbery and the Caldecott. These wonders of children's books started me on a lifelong love for anthropomorphic art and stories.    Disney was a huge part of growing up. Not all anthropomorphism is furry, you know.   A modern day 'Wind In The Willows'. Being a kid was magical. Libraries became a wonderland for me. https://youtu.be/SIFQ95W2OkI

https://youtu.be/GUBhE00h9U0 I predict big things for this guy!  

 Not far away the townspeople gather at the monthly fair on the bay, laughing and buying hot fried foods and hand made crafts.  The weather is lovely after such a harsh winter, and the ladies are as scantily clad as modesty and the sun permits.  Billy faces north towards the union of the land and sky thinking that he has forever missed his chance to fall in glorious, or at least needed, combat.  Everything seemed so assured in the heady days of his youth!  With him is his dead cat Mingo, who is fond of the rabbit in spite of his many shortcomings.  There is a live band which, the bunny is thinking, sucks.  He is down among the dead again and is oblivious to the lure of souvenirs, kids, fatty foods, and just being with others outside.  Most everything being sold is junk from his point of view and even the brass knuckles are so much poorly made expensive thuggery that he could easily make himself.  If only he would admit that he is drawn to con...

These mass murders must stop.  Retribution must be immediate and horrifying.  The purpose of the death penalty is not deterrence and it never has been.  It must be ironclad and inevitable that if you kill others because you feel like it punishment will be swift, merciless, and savage.  As far as restrictions on firearms, all I have to say is that an armed society is a polite society.  These attacks on our fellow citizens must stop, now.  Human life is of no value if we do not redress the taking of it.  It is those that oppose putting murderers to death who don't care about the victims, and who wish to reward the worst of mankind with 3 squares a day and the hope of eventual freedom.  There is no valid argument for sparing the lives of those who wage war on the innocent.  Enough.  לֹא תִּרְצָח  

Little Golden Books, 1952.  Written by Kathryn Jackson and with illustrations by the immortal Gustaf Tenggren.  And that should be an apple in the lion's mouth, the reason why will soon be very apparent. A fat little rabbit with 9 brothers and sisters teaches a lion to eat carrot stew instead of other animals. This concern for life only extends to mammals.  The oddly oriental appearing bunny knows that no stew is complete without animal proteins!  Tenggren lived in Maine and was also Swedish, I bet he thought nothing of eating smoked herrings with his morning knäckebröd and coffee.   For you see, the lion had to exercise so much he was just skin and bones.  The animals he ran after, of course, died so they didn't lose weight.  Life just ain't far sometimes.    So all the animals got together and convinced the obviously slow witted rabbit to teach the lion not to eat them.  With any luck at all the lion would eat the rabbit and...

 Harmony SDavis

Anthro goes to war.  Art by Henry Ryle Hopps, known for his stained glass and movie set design.  This poster has it all! This postcard is a poem entitled "The Kaiser's Dream." It tells a story of "Kaiser Bill" having a dream that he is not admitted to heaven and kicked out of hell. On reverse: "E. Mack King Henry's Road, London N.W."; "Printed in England".   Follow me to the Kaiser's funeral.  Hans and Fritz have the fits! And of course I didn't lift the above lock, stock and barrel from The Young Manhood Of Studs Lonigan by James T. Farrell, how could you think such a thing?

 Two of my cats got into while I was petting them on my lap.  I fear my looks are ruined.  Who will look at me now?  I'm hideous!

Ubi solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant.  Flamma has grown tired of insurgent bullshit.

 While listening to our local NPR voice of Moscow tonight I learned of this.  A beloved New Zealand television sign off, Kiwi and Cat defined a generation. https://youtu.be/6UTvtimVDGE 1976.  It should be noted that the state controlled television is shutting down at 11:30, just when American stations were about to head into full bore Vincent Price movies.  Here is the second version, 1987. https://youtu.be/do50n6RjEp Tonight I heard Victoria Kelly's charming music named after this. https://youtu.be/p2R5iWzyebg G'night.

Last week was cold for the coast.  Billy needed some carrots, so he drove to the farmer's market.  There he found lots of luscious things he wanted.  He always has a good time looking at the many wonderful items.  Billy was distracted by something, and could hardly drive home because his fingers were almost too stiff to bend and he couldn't blink his eyes.  Must've been the cold! Billy is borderline retarded.  

This don't look good for our rabbit.  

This rabbit is nothing if not trouble.

Behold Rupert Bear.  Created in 1920 by Mary Tourtel for The Daily Express to compete with the The Daily Mail's Teddy Tail's by Charles Folkard.       Teddy Tail as drawn by Herbert Sydney Foxwell, who died while serving as a captain in the British Service Corps in 1943, 53 years old.  These cards were sent to fanclub members and signed by Foxwell.  Now back to Rupert. John Harrold, between 1975 and 1995.  The badger is Bill Badger. http://www.newsbiscuit.com/2019/10/17/rupert-bear-mauls-farmer-to-death-defending-bill-badger-from-cull/    Oh, my.  https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/article/badger-culls-are-dividing-englands-rural-communities Rupert and the Inventor.  I cannot figure out whether this is just jingo/jango adorable or the most sinister drawing I have ever seen.  And why the skintight black gloves?  You need to finish your tea, Master Bear, it's supposed to taste like that! Gregory Fox, Podgy ...