Mister Scribbles

  Sculptor Charles W. Angel donated this statue to Bath Township after the worst school mass murder in American history. Bath School disaster - Wikipedia My grandfather, Sylvester Davis, was the only telegrapher at the New London School disaster for some time and such events affect me. I just found out about this vicious act of a horrible person who objected to higher taxes to fund schools in Bath, Michigan-May 18, 1927. Gone

  After a while, he could no longer see the birds and he began to be frightened again.      I am not my five senses, he thought.      I am not this thought.      Though I walk through the valley of the shadow... belay that.      In the end, there was only the tracks.  That's enough, he said, to himself, I can dig tracks.  Out of spite, out of pride, he counted the crossties aloud.  He counted hundreds and hundreds of them.  When he had to stop, he leaned his head on his rifle and held to the blazing rail with his strong right hand. Robert Stone, Dog Soldiers     (This is Ray Hicks, about to die.  He has just been in a firefight against 4 evil men, and two of them are dead.  He has been hit under the arm with an air marshal round and is in very bad shape.  Ray was nibbling peyote before the fight and is now on heroin as well to kill the pain. The red cir...

The stunningly good animated video, 'Monkey Rag', by Joanna Davidovitch.   https://youtu.be/HqJQAgBPBSA   Music by the Asylum Street Spankers. You gotta gimmee just a little of what you got.   The Golden Age of Animation is  just now beginning. C

 Billy is rasping down a flawless maple plank in order to make a rudis, the wooden sword signifying a retired gladiator, for a very good friend who is retired from the U. S. Army and the Tarrant County Sheriff's Department, SWAT team.  Here he takes time to play with the new cat, Felicette, a wild kitty he brought home with him from the bird hospital he worked at.  She is very shy but very sweet. It will have the name and rank etched onto the blade.

  https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2021/07/solo.html

  https://www.instagram.com/sdavis.howdy/

  https://www.instagram.com/sdavis.howdy/

  https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-stars-my-destination-animated-and.html

I have had this posted for some time. Now an acquaintance has done an animation of this, he insisted that I credit the program, Quickdraw. Watch this stunning short cartoon of my version of Gully Foyle hitting the distress signals on board the shattered spaceship Nomad- https://file.aiquickdraw.com/p/f813894f-2626-4602-b8e3-f38787c87330.mp4   I am grateful to https://www.deviantart.com/mate0-art for this delightful and  unexpected gift, he is the one who originally colored my pencil drawing of the cruelly abandoned sailor on board the war destroyed ship. The Stars My Destination, Alfred Bester. 1956. https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2025/03/the-stars-my-destination.html

 c. 1987.   Original drawing. I must have copied this pitcher from some old painting, I've never seen such spectacular glass work in my life. I sure didn't come up with this on my own.

Another cocktail napkin drawing by Steve Davis. https://www.instagram.com/sdavis.howdy/  

This is a Burmese Brown Python, a destructive and deadly snake. Florida is overrun with these, they're known to kill and eat alligators once they reach the required size. They have either no or very few natural enemies here, and they are a curse on the Everglades. Their presence has led to severe declines in native mammal populations, including raccoons, opossums, bobcats, and rabbits, as well as being hell on the bird population. This is the second one I've seen in Texas. My sister took this picture, her house is adjacent to one of our swamps. I got there too late with my snake wrangling equipment to catch the li'l darling, and the wildlife people are only interested in dangerous animals if they can get headlines out of them. Those overpaid clowns are as useful as a chocolate teapot. When I eventually catch this guy I'm going to take it to their office and throw it across the counter. Who doesn't do snakes now, be-yotches ? This happy rascal appears to b...

 This didn't work.

https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2025/04/29-may-1453-class-act.html

   From Vertigo: Papa Midnite Vol.1, #1.  2005.  Tony Akins, Pencils.  

Lucius Sergius Catalina cuts his way deep into legion lines, early January 62 BCE. https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2017/04/cataline.html

Whether slave or general, Flamma is a merciless opponent.  The wolves follow a winner, and just because he is a rabbit can be overlooked, not to mention that he has killed or maimed all challengers.  The barbarian head on a pike is that of a person with insufficient manners.  Flamma is brutal even by New Rome standards.  I fear that the policy of encouraging loyalty to the legion and not the state may come back to haunt the Emperor. This is a very ambitious rabbit!  

The last words of Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos before he charged at the Ottomans were "The city is fallen and I am still alive"! His body was never recovered as he tore off all marks of rank before plunging into the fight.  There were no known (surviving) eyewitnesses to his death.

 July 4th, 1187.  In an unbelievable display of Crusader stupidity, Guy of Lusignan leads out the bulk of the army and is destroyed at the battle of Hattin.  Captured, he and Raynald of Châtillon, prince of Antioch, are taken before the Sultan Salah ad-Din.  The victorious Sultan gave a goblet of water to Guy, who passed it to Raynald.  Saladin dashed this from his hand and beheaded him. Raynald was a mass murderer who had broken an existing truce to prey on caravans of pilgrims.  Frankly, he got off light.  ( Frankly !  Ha ha ha ha ha). The Crusades are over. https://youtu.be/KbTGWuRGKxw Brendan Gleeson as Raynald, Kingdom of Heaven.  2005.

Early this morning I heard such a clatter, I ran downstairs to see what's the matter. And, of course, there was my trouble cat Mingo on top of the stove.  I had left last night's chicken in a pan when I staggered off to bed.  Mingo is always ready for the main chance.  He looks like a cannon ball with a cat skin sewed tightly over it.  He was delighted to see me and rubbed his huge cheeks against my hand.  Just for the form of it I fussed at him but that just makes him purr louder.  The clock thing I did not bother to render very well, it's a malevolent Cheshire Cat clock. Behold.   https://misterscribbles.blogspot.com/2022/05/beltaine.html  

 The bun stood on the burning ship Whilst flames raced to the powder. Then at last a mighty blast, Blew him all to chowder. I worked on this for two weeks until it made me sick to look at it.   I was trying to illustrate Casabianca, but as can be seen this isn't a boy, the poem sucks anyway, and I got tired of dealing with it.  Anyone looking for talent and self discipline isn't gonna find it on this site. HE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle’s wreck Shone round him o’er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form. The flames ...

It had been raining, and the water soon turned to ice.  I was a long way from my destination, and the trees and moonless night kept me from seeing anything in the way of a guidepost.  As I reached a crossroads, there on a hill above the forest I spied what looked like firelight through a window.  Maybe someone will give shelter to a hapless traveler, I thought, and made my way up an old stone pathway that apparently led to the building above.  It did, and when I stepped out of the trees I saw the place was a crumbling ruin of an old manor, but there was a fire seen through the one ground floor window that was intact.  I walked up some steps to a door and lifted the heavy, skull shaped knocker and hit the door with it three times.  Nothing.  I tried again, pulling my old coat around my shoulders and adjusting my tail to keep some of the rain off it.  Still no answer.  Well, shoot.  I pushed against the door in a gesture of f...

Illustration by Fred Gwynne. Yes, that Fred Gwynne.

    HE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle’s wreck Shone round him o’er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form. The flames rolled on — he would not go Without his father’s word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He called aloud — "Say, father, say, If yet my task is done?" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his so...