My apologies to Albert King for butchering the lyrics to his song Born Under A Bad Sign wherein he laments that “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all”. How true! The Wife went out of town with a girl friend (not like in a gay girl-friend, just one of her female friends; of course if ya watch enough Project Runway you’ll find that term can easily apply to both men and women). So, I was left home alone for three days, and because all her friends knew she was going somewhere, We didn’t get a bunch of phone calls that weekend. Except…for Robo calls (guess they didn’t know). I did get one actual call, from a telemarketer. Who I asked, “Are you a Robo call?” When she replied, “Do I sound like a Robo call?”, I said “Yeah”, whereupon she hung up.
Being home alone when you’re 72 isn’t like “It’s party time!” And it’s definitely not like the movie about the kid who’s parents forgot about him and left him behind alone to fend off burglars (although if too much herbal medication is consumed paranoia can creep in and make ya wonder if every strange noise ya hear is a home invasion and all I’m stuck with to fight them off is my measly cane). I do get to play my music as loud as I want, and watch watch whatever ‘evil’ (meaning not a Hallmark Christmas movie) television show that I want. Big problem is, after two nights all the left-overs are gone and the carton of ice cream was nearly empty. That means cooking, and with cooking comes dish washing, and I like to keep my dish washing down to one utensil, a coffee cup, and maybe a bowl if I can’t microwave the container of leftovers.
Being home alone is okay once in a while, but I wouldn’t wanna do it all the time. It could get lonely. But at least I’d have Robo calls.
When I was a little kid, it was common knowledge that the three most strongest people in the world were God, Jesus and Superman. God of course had to be number one, He was God after all and created everything. Jesus was God’s son, so he had to be number two. Having grown up in the fifties, and having watched every episode broadcast weekly on TV, Superman was the obvious third. He didn’t have any supernatural powers like God and Jesus, but he could leap tall buildings at a single bound, was faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive. Best of all, he was American, and fought for truth, justice, and the American Way (which was the best way goin’ on back then, but not so much anymore, Some are trying to make it great again, but actually turning it into a shit-hole).
Superman was real! Sure God and Jesus are real, but in a pretend kinda way. They were too far away, up there in Heaven where they couldn’t be seen. Superman was real, you could see him every week. [ Do you ever wonder what God and Jesus talk about up there in Heaven? I bet not much. With all those prayers they gotta answer, it must get pretty noisy, what with millions of people asking for all kinda stuff; think celestial Amazon fulfillment center. That would drive me nuts! I would also wager, that Jesus is getting pretty antsy and more anxious to return to earth and clean things up. They see global warming and climate change coming, and know that if things continue along this path, there won’t be any people left to worship and pray to them. Then what? Are they just gonna hang it all up and write-off earth as an experiment gone bad, or will They just start all over again. If They do, I’d suggest they make all people the same color, and forego the foreskins this time around.]
These objects aren’t what you think they are, and if you do think they are, then you’ve got a dirty mind. Some people think I have a dirty mind, especially those that stop by this blog and look at my drawings. They may be right. The Wife definitely thinks I have a dirty mind, as did a lot of the girls I dated in High School.
Ever since I was a little kid, anything involving flatulence, self-defecation and barfing always tickled my funny bone. The really funny shit usually always centered around a rip-roaring fart. If there was sexual innuendo, all the better. Guess I was just an all American boy.
I think everybody has a bit of a dirty mind. And that’s not a bad thing… getting connected to your inner-filth can be very enlightening, when not scaring ya to death. All stuff forbidden is worthy of a snicker. If it’s frowned upon it’s worth investigating. If it’s illegal… I’ll pass. Don’t wanna break the law, cause that stuff goes on your permanent record. [I won’t even go on about that pedophile Jeffrey Epstien and how for once money was not able to save the rich and powerful when caught with their pants down. May he find eternal rest in a moderately low realm in Hell.]
Well. I better go and wash my mouth (and mind) out with soap.
I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to stop drawing sausage shapes. That’s about all I’ve been drawing lately, and I fear people with their filthy minds in the gutter, may think me to be some kinda pervert fixated on phallic symbols. Nothing could be further from the truth! I draw sausage shapes cause: they’re easy, familiar, and fun to draw and decorate with all sorts of costumes. Folks with a clean mind will think: Weiners, as in Oscar Mayer, not a bunch of floating Johnsons.
Recently I’ve come to realize that life is short, and forever closer than ya might think. At anytime, the Sweet Lord Jesus could swoop down from Heaven in His chariot of fire, scoop up my ancient ass and take me away to my eternal reward.
The first thing I’d say to Him , besides “Thank you Jesus” is: “Hey Lord, don’t forget my buddy Jock”.
A lot was going on in July of 2017. Unfortunately, this is just about all of it I can remember – and only because of thorough documentation,. I’m finding that if I don’t write it down , I’m not gonna remember it. [I haven’t found out yet that prioritizing things in order of importance is of any substantial value].
Although I’m glad that I did document these images, the downside of featuring the date so prominently, kinda sucks the possibility of other titles out of consideration. “Love Is In The Air” could have been a good one; “Hanging Loose In the Heavens” another. “No Time For Romance” is a hot one. “More Strange Shit” overstates the obvious. You can call it anything you want.
Here’s one I did two years ago way back in the good ol’ days of 2016. I was on a roll back then, just grinding out images based on a theme. I know….A lot of these things look like giant bratwursts afflicted with rare diseases. What can I say?
When I was in Germany visiting some relatives I’d never seen before, they decided to go all out and treat me to a German breakfast treat: Weiss-wurst. Weiss-
worst wurst are small white sausages, that are boiled, and to make them totally un-appetizing, usually served on a white plate. It’s made of veal (baby cows) and other assorted pork products. I think sausages, or other meat products encased in animal intestines, are gross, and nothing more than a way to recycle every part of the pig except the ‘oink’. [I think God intended us to eat our food from the outside in, Not inside out]. Who knows what you’re getting or where it came from? Although I may be a little fuzzy as to where bacon comes from, I sure knew which part of Porky Pig our Christmas hams came from.
Be sure to check-out this video for the fine art of eating Weisswurst.