Oh yeah, I'm wicked deep

A person posted this question on Threads:

Who are the five writers who made you?

Oh please, that is such a limited way of looking at things. There are works (or a singular work) by a great many authors that have really spoken to me, caused me to stop and think deeply, reconsider and/or totally expand on my beliefs. There are also myriad books that transport me — whether it’s due to the incredible way the author wields words or the heights of creativity they’ve attained.

But to ask or assume that an author or any artist “made” me — as though they’re some grand Poobah of a cult leader — is just wicked odd. Sounds like we're getting into Scientology, Mormon or MAGA territory here. I’d like to get the questioner’s definition/explanation of what they mean by “made.” Possibly they meant to say "influenced" or "greatly inspired?"

What are five books that have made me think a LOT? So much so that I come back and reread them ... maybe even get something new out of them too.

1. Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity
2. Christopher Moore, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal
3. Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
4. John Scalzi, Old Man’s War
5. Martha Wells, The Murderbot Diaries

There are are so many others:

•  Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale 
•  Virginia Woolf, Orlando 
•  Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-five 
•  Catherynne M. Valente, Space Opera
•  Philip K. Dick, Man in the High Castle 
•  George Orwell, 1984

to name just half a dozen.

That’s not even touching on Shakespeare, fer fuck’s sake!

Do you get the same thing out of, fer instance, the B side of Abbey Road or The Downward Spiral every time you listen to it? Or, at different times does it hit you in a fresh way? I kept discovering new things on repeat Aladdin Sane listenings — at least I did until my hearing went kaput. Same with David Byrne's The Forest.

How about a Klimt, Kandinsky or a Kokoschka painting. Do you see the exact same things when you come back and look at them 10, 20 or 30 years after first seeing them? Do they tell you something new? These are three painters, amongst many, who spoke deeply to me. My own work looks nothing like theirs but still they talked to me as did Max Beckmann, Otto Dix, Käthe Kollwitz, Max Ernst, etc.

“Who made you” is a rookie question. I’m in the back end of life — there aren’t five writers, five artists, five composers/musicians, five anyTHING that made me who I am today.  More like 5,000,000 plus me.

What makes anyone is a wickedly complex mixture not unlike the intensely complicated chemistry that goes into making a pot come out of a kiln a certain way.

It depends on:

• The clay body – the minerals in the clay can interact with the glaze layered over top.
• The base chemistry of the glaze plus the colorants and opacifiers. 
• The firing method – just to start, the oxygen levels inside the kiln.
• The firing temperature. 
• The pot’s placement in the kiln.
• The glazes that are on the pots that are next to your pot. Depending on the chemical compositions of each, the firing temperature, the kiln atmosphere, the glaze used on one pot can flash/interact with the glaze on another. This can be really awesome or … you know … not, depending on your needs and expectations.
• How fast or slow the kiln was fired and left to cool down. 

And this is putting it incredibly simply.

So, like yeah. Who we are, what “makes” each of us who we are can’t be reduced to a list of five people, events or things, let alone authors. That’s just abso-fucking-ridiculous. 

If we’re gonna be all blindingly reductive, well, let's fucking go! The five big-ass events/people, outside of my immediate family, that “made” me who I am today, are:

1. Martin Luther King’s assassination on April 4, 1968 (so I guess I should send James Earl Ray a, wut, note of acknowledgement? He's been dead for 28 years. I'm a little late.)
2. RFK’s assassination on June 5, 1968 (same note to Sirhan Sirhan? Dude's 82-years old and in a state prison in San Diego. I guess he'll die there.)
3. The 1973 71-day occupation of Wounded Knee by the American Indian Movement (AIM). 
4. The humor of Jonathan Winters, George Carlin, and the Smothers Brothers.
5. Paul Simon, The Beatles, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, and Led Zeppelin.  

Also, let's give a big, special shout-out to neurofibromatosis type 2! 

And that’s my short list. Of fucking course.

Griftfest ‘26

I saw an AI pic that the desperately insecure, reality averse, old, orange pedophile posted on his little social media laundry, Truth Toilet, which showed outrageously huge, impossible crowds for his Grift-o-Rama “state fair.” (no, I’m not reposting it here) He also claimed to have 45,000 people at the ME-ME-ME Rally he held to open the fair.

Yeah — totally. Sure, dude. 

He (Trump) said guests stayed through the end of his speech "because they loved hearing about a truly successful America."

The White House has not independently released attendance figures for the event, and Trump's estimate could not immediately be verified.  (That’s because he was pulling those numbers out of his ass, as usual) (source) 

It’s a pretty hilarious tell that Pedo preemptively insisted that people stayed to the end of his blathering. The doddering, ancient fuck is entirely aware that we all know his audiences start walking out after 15 minutes of his boring, mastabatory gibberish. They always do because who, besides his most worm-brained of fans, can tolerate his shit longer than that?

The Great American State Grift has, obviously and expectedly, been an astounding failure. Pedo’s pretty much run out of scam juice. The curtain’s been pulled back. I don’t think anyone’s buying the snake oil, Hamlin’s Wizard Oil or Hunt’s Remedy anymore either.

This unbridled narcissism is how you get a fiasco like the Great American State Fair and the larger project of which it is a part, Freedom 250—an organization that Trump created despite the fact that Congress had already created an organization, America250, for the purpose of celebrating the country’s anniversary. The primary purpose of Freedom 250, which is not subject to congressional oversight and does not have to disclose its donors, is the elevation of Trump and his political movement. That’s why so many musicians withdrew from performing at the Great American State Fair, and organizers had to turn to Kash Patel’s girlfriend. With just a few days to go before America’s “birthday,” Freedom 250’s most notable event so far was the UFC fight held on the White House lawn on Trump’s actual birthday.  (source) 

First, the UFC thing was Trump’s birthday present to himself. It had absolutely nothing to do with celebrating America’s 250th birthday.

Second, getting Krazy Kash’s mediocre country and western singer girlfriend to headline at this disastrous production shows some serious, rock solid desperation. The only way it could have been worse would've been if they’d put Lara Trump up on stage. 

Even if I still had hearing I wouldn’t know Krazy Kash’s girlfriend’s name. Country is one genre of music I was never EVER able to abide. I mean, it’s nails on chalkboards, milk with a grapefruit juice chaser, an orange paisley crop top worn with fluorescent lime green polka dot harem pants — okay wait, that shirt/pants combo might totally slap. 

Frankly, no one outside of politically conservative Nashville would have heard of her either. From what I understand, she was a right-wing podcaster who decided to try her hand/voicebox at country and western singing. 

So, chick was some unknown and started banging Kash as a way to boost her going-nowhere singing career – I get it. He’s with her because … well, you’ve seen him. Also, she's young enough to be his daughter — you know how Republicans are.  No one’s going after him because they’ve heard he’s rocking a charming personality, a keen intellect, and bodacious good looks — fuck no. Oh yeah, the fact that he’s a middle-aged sloppy drunk isn’t exactly appealing either.

It was all about proximity to power, obtaining connections, getting WAY more exposure than her manager (if she had one) could ever have managed. On top of that she gets a ton of bling and free jet rides. What’s it costing her? In the here and now she has to fake interest in a complete radish brained drunken dweeb AND, periodically, fuck him. This is likely not a great inconvenience for her as he’s usually hammered, allegedly, and probably can’t get it up (or keep it up).

Once the addled orange ogre is gone, Kash’s little girlfriend (I refuse to look up her name) will undoubtedly find her singing career in a nosedive. She’ll go back to singing at roadhouses or yapping on her podcast, maybe pick up a waitressing gig here and there. 

I’d feel a tiny bit sorry for her — we’ve ALL made truly bad, embarrassing choices in our lives — but for reals, as an adult, you don’t dive head first into a bucket of obviously no-brained, pants shitting, fraudsters and expect to come out with a glorious rep, industry and peer respect, money, and a thriving, satisfying career.

Now, the worst and least popular president of all time is staging a convention in Dallas this September to “rally voters” in advance of the midterm elections. And by “rally voters” I mean he's going to “smear his fecal stank of failure all over Republican candidates from coast to coast” just like he did for the “Great American State Fair.” Pedo’s calling it The Great American Comeback. 

Sure. Yeah. Gotcha. 🙄 Everything he touches withers and dies. The Republican Party deserves to die though.

He’s a barely sentient, one man apocalypse. And 30% of this benighted country still think he’s god. The human race is doomed.

WTAF!

It’s supposed to be in the 90s today and soar into the hundreds tomorrow. For the little baby Bast’s sake, this is Boston not Phoenix! 

Luckily, Ten and I live in a tiny house down by the water so a couple of fans and two room size ac units should cover us … as long as the power doesn’t go out. 

I was supposed to have my annual appointment with my lame-ass neuro-ophthalmologist today but we're not going into the city’s heat canyons. Fuck that shit! I’ve punted the appointment off to late next month when temps will be less stupid. We’ve got food, my prescriptions, and we're stocked up on other necessities. We’re old and we're not going anywhere until the heat breaks …dammit!    

If things get truly insufferable, there’s always the ocean. Ten and I can climb down the seawall and sit in the surf.

And now a few memes to kick off the heat wave from Hell:

Karma

Dude had a fatal heart attack while trying to dispose of his girlfriend’s body after he strangled her to death. 

This is some serious Instant Karma. Also, apart from the murder, it's hilarious.

Best I can piece together from various news sources, the murderer, Daniel Robbins (44), LEFT HIS TRUCK RUNNING BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, while he dragged his garotted girlfriend, Jessica Folds (47), into the woods. What? Was he gonna dig a quick and dirty shallow grave? Did he have a pre-dug grave and just needed to dump her body and shove some dirt over top? Was he planning to simply leave her there where anyone taking a nice walk in the woods would get the shock/horror of their lives?

WHAT an inconsiderate asshole. Yeah, I know – he’s a killer. What could we expect?

I mean, the tailgate of the damn truck was still down and the truck was still running! Not only is this sloppy as hell (he was begging to be caught – WHAT a moronic turnip!), he was burning gas in THIS economy?!

According to investigators, Robbins was in the middle of moving Folds' body when he suddenly collapsed and had a heart attack that would end up killing him. His ex-wife said that he had a preexisting heart condition. (source) 

Best part of this story? He's dead.
~~~
Remember the Tiki torch Nazis – that insane image that was splashes across newspapers and computer screens? The two guys most visible in the pic are Teddy Von Nukem and Peter Cvjetanovic. Peter’s the one in the foreground with the greasy neo-Hitler ish hairstyle. Whatever happened to them?    

After the 2017 Unite the Right rally, in March of ’21, Teddy (the dude in the dark shirt) was busted for trying to smuggle drugs over the Mexico/US border. Huh. A white, supposedly upstanding, patriotic American citizen, NOT an immigrant or a Latino, trying to bring 33 pounds of fentanyl into America. Huh. THEN he failed to show up for a scheduled court appearance on January 30, 2023. The judge had to issue an arrest warrant.     

Turns out the reason ol' Teddy didn’t show up for court was because he was dead. He shot himself. Dude was 35 and had four kids. I hope, for the spawn’s sake, his widow has enough sense to not hook up with another idiot White nationalist. I’m not betting on it though. Undoubtedly she's just as bad.     

What about Peter Cvjetanovic? He graduated from the University of Nevada, Reno and went on to study for a master's degree in political theory at the London School of Economics (unknown whether he finished). While in London he also supposedly volunteered for Groundswell Project, a counter-extremism organization. Huh. Really? Wonder if he gained any wisdom or was just studying his enemies.

Back here in the US:

In December of 2021 the Nevada National Guard kicked his racist ass out after a background check exposed his off-the-rails Tiki torch words and deeds. Dude didn’t even make it to basic training.

Then, in 2025, the International Brotherhood of Teamsters hired KKK Boy into an administrative role at the union’s D.C. headquarters but he was fired as soon as they found out about his past. 

Peter’s now studying for a PhD in Politics at Catholic University of America in D.C. 

It seems he’s claiming to be a reformed neo-nazi shitbag. I’ll have to read his My Name is Lazarus piece. Frankly, I’ve known far too many fraudsters, grifters, and delusional players in my life to fall for a bunch of pretty words strung together.

Walk it, don’t talk it. MAYBE after a few years of him consistently walking it I'll believe he's not a bomb throwing, racist, right-wing, white supremacist, overflowing outhouse.

To Squid or Not to Squid

I subscribe to a site that sends me cute daily ocean facts via Threads. It’s Ocean Generation a UK charity improving Ocean Literacy because the Ocean is keeping us all alive.  

We translate complex Ocean science into engaging content, use film and popular culture stories to nurture an inclusive approach to sustainability, and run three UNESCO-endorsed Ocean Literacy programmes for 3 – 25-year-olds. (source) 

Old broad that I am, I don’t fall into that age range BUT, who doesn’t like getting interesting, previously unknown ocean tidbits in their feed each day? C’mon! What better, easier way to break up the old doomscrolling?

Today I learned about striped pyjama squid which aren’t squid at all – they’re cuttlefish. AND they’re wee things, measuring just under three inches long. They spend a lot of their day buried in the sand, hiding from predators, but they keep a sharp yellow eye out for small edible fishies, shrimp, and crustaceans that float by. I can relate except I'm on the lookout for cookies and stray bon bons.

Our pyjama clad pals can’t stay there all the time though (I mean, BORING). Here’s the deal, these babes are both venomous and poisonous. Overachieve much? 

When the pyjama squid is stressed, it secretes a slime that contains toxins from glands around its body. If that isn’t enough to deter predators, it can also squirt ink to and make a quick escape. Like other cephalopods, they also can change color by tightening specialized cells in their skin called chromatophores. (source) 

NB: Venom is injected. Poison is ingested.

Fer instance – the Australian box jellyfish is the considered to be the most venomous babe in the sea (naturally it’s Australian – that’s deadly wildlife central). Their sting can cause cardiac arrest, paralysis, or death in humans in just a few minutes. 

Puffer fish are incredibly poisonous – they contain enough of the toxin tetrodotoxin to kill 30 people. There is no known antidote.

Symptoms of puffer fish poisoning start 10-45 minutes after ingesting with numbness and tingling in the mouth, followed by nausea and vomiting. This is followed by paralysis, loss of consciousness, respiratory failure and death in the toxin’s progression. (source) 

The point? Between being venomous, poisonous, able to shoot ink, and change color, PJ squids are pretty well armed. Could be a whole new action movie franchise, no? I can see it – Lethal Sealife VII: Striped and Deadly. By the by, it should come as no surprise that the striped pyjama squid lives off the coast of Australia.

Stray question, who wore it better – Beetlejuice or the striped pyjama squid? Yeah, it was PJ boy. Totally.

On a completely different note… 

Maybe it’s just eastern Massachusetts but I’ve seen fewer of those behemoth, gender affirming pickup trucks on the road the last few times I’ve been out. Mind you, I’m not out and about all that much so … I’m not the most reliable observer.

Work pickups are still on the road but there seem to be significantly fewer dick replacements with their pristine truck beds that look like they, at most, carry home groceries from Stop&Shop and new teevees from the local big box emporiums. I imagine this monster truck population decline (if, in fact, it’s happening) is likely due to gas prices being in the five+ dollar range (thanks to Pedo and Bibi’s testosterone fest in Iran).

The gas hogs are probably sitting in the garage until prices come down a bit. Sedans and SUVs are what folks around here are driving.

How about in your area? Are you noticing any changes in how your daily travels look?

I only mention it but those road abominations are one reason why I stopped riding my recumbent trike around Valhalla and other parts of town. Even with a big, tall, brightly colored flag flying off the back and me wearing a fluorescent orange safety vest, I began to feel unsafe. People driving these jacked up pickups are riding so high and I was cycling so low to the ground. The likelihood of them not seeing me, and rolling right over me without noticing, seemed pretty damned significant.

I haven’t survived a thousand motherfucking neurosurgeries just to be taken out of this life by some insecure tiny dicked loaf of Wonderbread who couldn’t manage to get around town without his or her (c’mon, usually his) emotional support truck.

Question for the Catholics

I found this question and the noted answers on Threads and knew that I absolutely had to share. A few folks answered seriously. Most did not.

Q: How many communions until you’ve eaten a whole Jesus?

A selection of the replies:

▶️    There used to be a fantastic self-hosted website in the 90s where some dude did a review of various toppings for communion wafers. 

       Winners: 
          • cheese whiz 
          • dijon

        Losers: 
           • squeezable sardine paste
           • horseradish 

WWJD

▶️    And why do you call them Communion Wafers when "Jeezitz" is still available?

▶️    Is it like those stamp books or sticker books, where when you get enough to fill it you get a prize? "I've only had one foot and an ankle, but I'm working towards the knee now!"

▶️    I need someone to do the math on how sips of wine equals Jesus’ total estimated blood volume. 🍷

▶️    Depends on his mass.

▶️    I don’t know, but once I gave a particularly crusty piece to an irreverent parishioner who complained he got “the toenail of Christ.”

▶️    Theophagy (the sacramental or ritualistic consumption of a deity) is a ritual stolen from the Greeks. The Greek god of wine, Dionysus, had a sect known as the Maenads who practiced theophagy, consumption of their god for his power, through omophagia, eating raw flesh and drinking blood. The play of bread to flesh and wine to blood is witchcraft transmutation but xians label it as “transubstantiation.”

One of the most controversial practices attributed to the Maenads is sparagmos, the tearing apart of live animals, followed by omophagia, the consumption of raw flesh. This act symbolized the dissolution of boundaries between humans and nature, life and death, and was thought to allow the Maenads to absorb the vital essence of the god himself. (source) 

When we drill right down to the roots, Christians were incredibly shameless cultural appropriators.

▶️    We talking adult Jesus or Xmas baby Jesus?

▶️    So is Jesus just like the Catholic Prometheus?

▶️    I wonder if they offer a gluten-free Jesus...

Someone helpfully replied that some churches do rice Jesus.

Nacho communion!

Then we got snackable Jesus:

▶️    Ngl I low key always really fucked with the little Jesus crackers. I thought they tasted good. 

▶️    Need to find out where to get them. Sometimes you just wanna snack on some Jesus.

▶️    When I was five or six I escaped CCD to wander the halls and found a gigantic plastic bag of the wafers and started chowing down. I feel I probably am filled with 1/4 Jesus. I am definitely not a Catholic anymore. 

▶️    I don't know. But I know you're going to burn in hell. 😂

These next two commenters totally missed the levity and/or they really take themselves, god, and religion FAR too seriously OR they just forgot to include the snark emojis:

▶️    Every single communion wafer is the whole Jesus. That's the point of transubstantiation!

Transubstantiation is a key doctrine in Roman Catholic theology that describes the belief that during … Holy Communion … the bread and wine used in the sacrament are miraculously transformed into the actual body and blood of Jesus Christ, while retaining their physical appearance. This belief is rooted in the accounts of the Last Supper, where Jesus instructed his disciples to partake in these elements in remembrance of him. Catholics maintain that this transformation occurs during the Eucharistic Prayer, a central part of the Mass, and is accepted as a matter of faith rather than scientific proof. (source) 

▶️    9104. It’s in the footnotes of Summa Theologica.
~~~
Yeah … 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆 😆. Like I’m gonna read through all that! The Summary of Theology by Thomas Aquinas (written from 1265 through 1274) was, as I understand it, written as an instructional guide for teachers, a beginning student’s theology textbook, and a compendium of all the approved teachings of the Catholic Church. It’s comprised of three volumes and around 2,500 pages.

I don’t know what 9104 means so I googled it. A few possibilities:

1) Aerospace Quality Standard (AS9104) The IAQG implements quality initiatives for improvements throughout the aerospace products and services value stream. 

I don’t think this is what the poster was referring to but I could be wrong.

2) Microsoft SQL Server Error (9104) – If you see error code 9104 in a database environment, it typically indicates that auto statistics failed for some reason (such as a resource crunch or a temporary deadlock). 

3) It’s some kind of spiritual/angel numerology thing. Supposedly:

9: Tells you that the challenges you go through in life will help build your character.
1: Urges you to believe that you have all that it takes to succeed and make your dreams come true.
0: Amplifies the energies of the numbers that it appears with.
4: Reminds you that you create your luck.

Looks like inane, scammy turnipshit to me but I guess this is what the poster was referencing.

And that’s my Sunday morning. It appears I’ve missed mass for the 2,817th week in a row. If I go to confession now, I wonder how many Hail Marys and Our Fathers I’ll have to recite as penance? A duodecillion? A quattuordecillion? 300 mega bazillion?

Chumbawamba Strikes Again

There are worse songs to wake up to.

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never gonna keep me down

I’m deaf (remember?) so this is playing in my head, not on some audio device.

And, of course, the next lines to come into my head were:

He drinks a whiskey drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink

At this point in my big old life, I drink more like a Gen Z-er than a Gen Joneser so, to me, this is funny. I’d be passed out cold for many hours if I had four drinks. Many, MANY hours.

What was the Tubthumping about? That doctor visit yesterday regarding my stupid problem toe. I had, naturally, horror show amounts of anxiety as to how things were going to go (based on my last experience). Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see a podiatrist but the intern and doc that I met with (both very nice and credentialed up the wazoo) determined that I do NOT have another infection (*PHEW*) and the toe is not broken. I still need to get in to see the foot doc, which they’re trying to arrange, but those folks are seriously backed up AND, apparently, work strict 9-5 hours. 

WHAT?! Are there no foot medical emergencies? Are toes and feet not considered serious parts of the body, worthy of after biz hours care? Are feet now in the same class as eyes and teeth? You know, with dental offices (featuring "Hollywood white” bleaching) and optometry exam rooms closeted behind fashion sunglasses sellers in strip malls?

Is this the future of podiatry? Are they three minutes away from becoming no more than an offshoot of mall concourse nail salons? I mean, I need a podiatrist NOT a pedicurist, goddamnit!

Will America’s rapacious health insurance industry start treating feet the way they do eyes and teeth – that they shouldn’t be insured? I don’t think we’re far from feet being considered mere style supplements. Their primary purpose being to show off Jimmy Choo, Prada, and Christian Louboutin’s three grand sneakers. Right? I mean, those multi thousand dollar shoes aren’t going to buy themselves are they?

We peasants are no more than easily replaceable cogs in the great capitalist machine. By the by, THIS is how the oligarchy ends up shooting itself in the foot. You see, if Sally and Jim (or Donna) can’t afford to get their feet fixed up, they can’t afford to buy the expensive shoes and sneaks. Maybe they can’t afford other important healthcare shit either, like chemo or insulin (or *ahem* brigatinib or levETIRAcetam fer instance), then maybe, probably, they die. If we’re all dead, WHO’S buying the very expensive footwear, the televisions, cell phones, Cool Ranch Doritos, 6-packs of Bud Light? WHO’S going on the expensive cruises, buying tickets to see the latest sportsball game, staying at the pricey spa/hotel? 

WHO’S feeding the billionaire’s and trillionaire’s bottomless pit of capitalistic greed if we’re all dead because they made healthcare a luxury item? Hmmmmmm?

*OOPSIE* I’m off on a rant again, aren’t I? Bound to happen  with Darth Dementia and his astronomically dimwitted Pedophile Protector Party in control of the country.

Anyway, the best part of yesterday was that the very good docs didn’t feel that I needed to be kept in hospital and fed massive amounts of intravenous antibiotics (like last time). I could go home and eat ice cream (which I did). The next best part was the traffic – seriously. It was Friday afternoon rush hour BUT it’s summer in Boston. Everyone who was going down the Cape had either left Thursday night or by noon Friday at the latest. Any later and you’re facing obscene backups at the Bourne Bridge. (NB: around these parts, this is the way we say we’re going down to Cape Cod – we’re going down the Cape. K?)

He sings the songs that remind him of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times

Don't cry for me
Next door neighbor
~ Tubthumping, Chumbawamba 

Doctorville

Well, Ten and I are headed in to my doctor’s office this afternoon to see about my banjaxed stubbed toe. It’s not getting any better. Joy. Based on past experience, I’m expecting the worst and am preparing for a dull, uncomfortable weekend spent in hospital where they’ll pump me full of antibiotics and remove my toenail AGAIN. 

I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be – I have a new library book and I’m about to download the next Murderbot (just finished Network Effect. Fugitive Telemetry is next). I’ll pack up all my chargers and anything else I’ll need for a couple of days away from home. Maybe they won’t make me go inpatient but it’s good to be prepared.

This is all just SO fucking annoying and tedious. I really need a replacement body.

Here are some pics, comix and editorial cartoons in place of non-kvetching content from me today.

You’re welcome.

Nick Anderson

Jack Ohman