It's morning! You know who doesn't like morning? Hungover sods, that's who. Palinode and Schmutzie lounge in bed like the hungover sods they are.
Palinode: When we got together, people told me you were empathetic.
Schmutzie: Really?
Palinode: Would you describe yourself as empathetic?
Schmutzie: ...
Schmutzie: Why are you asking me this again?
Palinode: Because I still don't have a pet coelacanth.
Schmutzie: That is totally illegal!
Palinode: You say you have all this empathy, and yet you miss out on my need for a coelacanth to call my own.
Schmutzie: Empathy is not like being psychic.
Palinode: All our friends have been picking up on my coelacanth vibe. They've taken me aside and asked me point blank why we don't have one yet. What can I tell them?
Schmutzie: I'm not stopping you from getting a coelacanth.
Palinode: Oh, you're not stopping me. But you're not being proactive either. Where was my coelacanth last Christmas?
Schmutzie: I'm not getting you a coelacanth.
Palinode: I would have named it Irvine. It would have lived in the tub.
Schmutzie: It would have been gross.
Palinode: I don't really want a coelacanth, you know.
Schmutzie: Really.
Palinode: It's just that I feel so alive when we fight.
In my last post I scanned in some of my handwriting. Sometimes I write in all caps, as you can see in this scrap I wrote at some far flung point in the past:
The only thing is, I'm not sure whether I'm the author of those words. I may have taken it down from something I was reading, but since I usually write down the source, I think it's safe to lay claim to it.
I also lay claim to this:
That's the latest marine sensation, the act that's wowing them in the waves: Wubsy, Flubsy, and Lousy Tail, the Fish Derby Singers. For which I apologize.
Hey out there. Have you ever dreamed of a career in the promising field of journalism? Are you halted in your tracks by a grade four education, a stake through your skull and a recurring case of Bell's palsey? It turns out that may not be the stumbling block you imagined! I received this in my inbox from a company that sells ad space in newspapers (redacted a bit for anonymity):
Got an event comming [sic] up ?
Advertise across the province for just $25.00
Sports Day -- Rodeo -- Home Comming [again, sic] -- Church Reunion
Annual Picnic -- Family Gathering – Aniversery [a bit more sic] -- Ball Tourament [oh come on, people - tourament? This is an advertisement?]
Fish Derby -- Canoe Races -- Water Sports Day
Dog Show -- Agriculture Fair
These are some of the communities that ____ go into each week with our network of weekly papers: [here should be a list of all the local podunks that money can buy; it’s a shame that I can’t really include them, because some of the names of towns, villages, and reserves are excellent to behold]
Also we have footprints into many smaller communities around these listed. More information is at our web site _______ or e-mail us at _______________
I don’t know about you, but these are the guys I want advertising my fish derby. But what exactly is a fish derby? Is a hat worn by fish? A hat made out of fish? A smart fishskin derby worn by the discrimating gent or au courant young lady looking to make a dent in the impervious surface of jaded journalism? If you wear a fish derby to your home comming, or maybe accesorize it with a ball tourament (a small metal axle designed for rotating balls and keeping them fresh), the small-town print media will come a' stampeding.
Here's a little something I thought up this morning where I take some cartoon characters I've drawn in my notebook and have them say things that apply to today's most up-to-the-minute breakingest headlines. I'm hoping that the illustration will point out, in a humorous way, some of the foibles of the men and women in power. I can't figure out what to call it yet, so if you hear of anything similar, just let me know.
Meanwhile, the Washington Post reports that people in the US are no longer hungry. Instead, they are experiencing "very low food security". I don't quite get that phrase - are people allowing liquids and gels into their stomachs? At any rate, it appears that the number of people experiencing low food security has been rising for the last five years, now totalling around 35 million, or 12% of the population. Is there a Department of Food Security in the offing? Maybe that's going to be the new name for the USDA. That fish is a real hater.
Good news for everyone who likes good news! At the urging of lots of people, or maybe three people, I'm putting my Die Lungbreathers fish on a line of apparel. T-shirts, infant onesies, mugs, thongs and boxers - you name it, a Die Lungbreathers fish can adorn it. With special guest appearances by Terrible Fish Machines and Whale Propaganda (also makes a fine screensaver).
In the meantime, while I'm hashing out the details and making sure that you all get my finest art on the most sweatshop-free clothing available, here are some Die Lungbreathers fashion sketches I've whipped up, in homage to the Sears catalogues of my youth.
I call it "Sharp Poly Pant Look" (with discreet pant spigot).
"Night Action Look"
"Street or Shower"
Were the Sears catalogues of my youth really filled with streetwise young hustlers lounging against brick walls? It must have been so.
Recently I surmised that the fish would rise up and wage a terrible war against humanity, leaving only a remnant of our species as slave labour. This remant will be all that is left to fight against our piscine oppressors in the far future. I'm using the term "piscine" here to refer both to fish and Pisces people, who will be the first to sell us out to the invaders from the depths. It also refers to people who own swimming pools, who will eventually show themselves as they collaborators they are. Think about it - a ready-made network of watery bases and hideouts across the continent sits and sparkles in wait for the scaly bastards. Our backyard pools will embolden and give comfort to our enemy. Oh how our leisure society has betrayed us!
The far future is here. Aaron sent me a link to the following video of the Terranaut II, an obvious forerunner of the machines that will one day be instrumental in our downfall.
The Terranaut II, seen here giving a Blood Parrot fish a taste of "freedom," is the creation of fish sympathizer and fellow swimmer Seth Weiner.
Mr. Weiner clearly regards himself as an impartial scientist, a spelunker in the caves of knowledge who believes that science is morally neutral and not contrary to God's plan for humanity (which it clearly is). If that is so, why is he a dues-paying member of the International Scientist-Fish Friendship Coalition (the ISFFC), a think tank whose mission is unapologetically amoral and fish-centric? Their "scientific" studies blatantly promote reductions in current fishing levels, penalties for corporations that pollute the sea, man-fish marriage, and a massive relocation of humanity to underwater domes where our brains would be reprogrammed to serve our new fish masters. I've misplaced the documentation for all this, but as soon as I find it and update the drivers for my scanner, I'll publish it, to devastating effect.
I'm not sure if Weiner is a misguided naif, a pawn of the ISFFC, or simply an avatar of cold-blooded evil. We cannot stop him at this stage, with the liberal media and the ACLU dogging us, but "Dr." Weiner should know that his deeds will be counted along with everyone else's when the day of reckoning comes.
Please note: Evil/mad scientist Dr. Seth Weiner conceals his true mission by pretending to be an artist from Brooklyn. His works display a peculiar fascination with Franz Kafka. So far I have been unable to find a definite connection between Mr. Kafka and fish, but it should be noted that the author's story "In the Penal Colony" is set on an island. and islands, as we all know, are beset by the fish-lousy sea.