Saturday, March 31, 2018

Ars Longa Fundraiser, Day One

I've been a writer since I was a wee driftglass.  A mere shotglass, really.  One day maybe I'll publish my first story -- ten pages of high adventure earnestly penciled in my Big Chief tablet.  But many, many years later during my first year as a blogger when I was still teaching at Columbia College and had access to the very best graphics editing tools, I took an interest in visual images.  Probably because so many otherwise-gifted bloggers were sucking hard at the picture thing. 

Me?  I can't draw a decent circle and my attempts at sketching faces always turn into nightmare fuel.  But I did seem to have some facility at manipulating graphic images to create custom artwork that complemented whatever theme I was blogging about that day.

Which made me somewhat unique in the genre.

Here, for example, is a little something from the archives.  2011, to be exact.

Well Into Their 117th Trimesters

David Brooks and David Frum both suddenly decide they really don't want to keep Reagan's baby.

Earlier today Mr. Brooks placed his order for a political D&C through pursed-lips and a frowny face by rewriting Reality's Timeline so that he was somehow never a part of the 30-year lead-up to the Giant Pig Party Implosion at the end of the Empire we see bearing monstrous fruit all around us.

Mr. Frum, more comically, decided instead to pretend that the person most responsible for the Giant Pig Party Implosion at the end of the Empire...was the Reasonable-to-a-Fault Democratic President! Because he has so far failed to put Frum's Republican Party down like the sick animal that it is, and failed to clean up the toxic partisan sewer that David Frum helped create..despite Mr. Frum and every other Conservative douchebag in America being warned to beware just exactly these consequences for the last 30 years by two generations of Liberals...

Back then this was just one more post vivisecting the predictable spectacle of paid Republican pundits blatantly lying about their past in order to dodge responsibility for the racist, paranoid shitpile their Republican Party had turned into.

But aged in fine oak casks in my archives for seven years, it is now a Level 55 Enchanted Artifact.  An artifact which, if wielded properly, is capable of easily obliterating the most ubiquitous Republican pundit lie these days -- that their party only turned into a racist, paranoid shitpile two years ago with the arrival of Donald Trump, that it happened completely without warning, and that they certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with it. 

My archives are full of this stuff, so over course of my 13th Blogiversary Fundraiser I plan to give my keyboard a rest and plunder my stash of custom artwork from years gone by. 

If you have a favorite, let me know in the comments and maybe I'll decant it for you.

Your pal,


Behold, a Tip Jar!

1 comment:

Pablo in the Gazebo said...

How come there are no comments?