Thaumaturge

Thaumaturge -- Oil on paper, 29.7 x 42.0 mm

A Spasm of Vitriolic Verses, Hellacious Haiku, Pustulent Poems, Satanic Sonnets, Lupine Limericks and Odious Odes.

AWAREWOLF AND OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (vot could be verse?)

A Spasm of Vitriolic Verses, Hellacious Haiku, Pustulent Poems, Satanic Sonnets, Lupine Limericks and Odious Odes. Read 'em on any device: Tablet, Smartphone, e-Reader, Laptop or Desktop.

Now at Amazon, for 99 measly cents: https://amzn.to/2zH0bJz

Adults-only, read 'em and weep. Here's a sample:

footlong and fancy-free: why size doesn't matter

Joule's apparatus for measuring the mechanical equivalent of heat energy. A descending weight attached to a string causes a paddle immersed in water to rotate. Caption by Wikipedia, 6 May 2014.

No energy? No matter!

Zero, zip, nada, none: that's how much is left after you turn matter into energy, via a bomb or a power station. But what kind of power station is best? It's actually impossible to say.

I’ve heard that coal-fired power stations are dirty, wind-farms are ugly, and nuclear power stations are dangerous (but much more efficient at producing energy).

Do you agree? I don’t, and I’ll provide the supporting logic in a minute. But first let’s unpack the conventional wisdom and hold it up to the light until it withers and dies!

Power stations are designed to transform matter into energy, or one form of energy into another. If you’ve got nothing better to do, you can use Einstein’s equation, E=MC2, to work out the energy equivalent of the mass1 of any given chunk of matter. The equation says that energy (E) equals mass (M) multiplied by the speed of light (C) squared.

I’ve heard that the reason why you get so much energy via nuclear processes2 is that the speed of light (squared) is such a big number. Really?

The Great Reset

The Great Reset -- Oil on canvas, 62 x 92cm

Two thousand and twenty was a year of great plenty
...of worries and troubles and woe!
This year let’s just hope that we’ll manage to cope
but will we? I really don’t know.

Let’s try and remember at least till December
the lessons that lockdown has taught us.
Lest we forget and remain in huge debt
mourning what money once bought us.

If you worked from your home, with no need to roam
don’t whine about missing the City.
You still had a job, so don’t cry and don’t sob
instead try to learn about Pity.

When you’ve finished your crap, just turn on the tap
don’t sweat if you’ve run out of paper.
Or use some dried grass to wipe off your ass
or a stick as a handy shit-scraper.

If wearing a mask is an onerous task,

Twilight Zone

Haven't done a dark painting in a while. And thank Ahura Mazda for that! It's 45.5 cm x 35.5 cm, oils on board. Called Twilight Zone, ungodlily enough...

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Escapegoat

57 Chevy Goat Head limited giclee print. 5"x 7" on a black 8" x 10" matt board. By Zachary Prior.

His name was Godfrey. His prison nickname was “Goat”. He yearned for a normal life, but had never Toad the line for long enough to settle down.

He’d been arrested on a Poultry charge of Storking, which would have meant a non-custodial sentence had he not been caught Badgering a witness. Six months into his jail-time, Goat had taken the opportunity to escape. Since then he’d been on the Lamb, Pigs Dogging his every move.

It was raining heavily as Goat made his way to where his girlfriend Gwyneth lived. He knocked on the door. No response. Standing in the rain, he knocked again. Still nothing. He smelled a Rat. It was all very Fishy but what choice did he have?

Goat shouted himself Horse. Finally, the door opened.

Come in out of the Reindeer,” said Gwyneth.

“Hey Gwin, what kept ya?” said Goat, “I was starting to suspect Fowl play.”

Divine Masturbation

Long, long ago at the dawn of time
even before the primordial slime
when stretching ahead were all the millennia
in which quite a lot, if not more, even many a
tragic mistake or foul evil plot
lay in the future but not at year dot.

Right at the top of history’s first page
when many an era and aeon and age
loomed far ahead to the greatest extent
was writ a uniquely dramatic event
that some call the Bang that was huge if not big
(please pass me my drink and light me a cig).

It wasn’t just huge, the bang was gigantic
God had felt mellow and flirty, romantic
sultry and horny and steamy and loose
in the mood to create not just reproduce
it’s really not strange, unusual or odd
to find thoughts of love in the mind of a god.

Ode to My Job

. 'Arbeit macht frei' is a German phrase meaning 'Work shall set you free' found above the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps during World War II. More than 70 years later, almost everyone is an inmate of the global concentration camp of modern human culture.

Work doesn't make us free, it enslaves us. A person at work is a person with no identity. Ze is not a person, just a uniform, a suit. A person at work has no mind of zer own, no brains, no head. As the painting suggests, the body of a person at work ends at the neck.

The corporatisation of human life and culture proceeds at an accelerating rate. One of the results is the destruction of our humanity itself. Another is the destruction of the planet.

A person at work is a psychopath with no personal values, just a fake but hearty enthusiasm for the values of the corporation. Every morning, when we walk into the workplace, we leave our personal values at the door. We're all psychopaths, these days, or sociopaths if you're into labels. We repress and suppress our personhood, our empathy, at the behest of the employer. That's why there are cruel red eyes in the lapels of a pin-striped suit. They are the insane eyes of one who has lost zer personhood.

And yet, as Jesus is said to have said, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

And here we are, 2000 years later, toiling and spinning for dear life, and not liking it very much at all.

Painting by SRS, oils on board, 54.5 x 74.5 cm.

No agenda was tabled
No meeting was chaired
All came who were abled
No-one was spared.

No minutes were red
The suits were all blue
All heard what was said
About what they should do.

No actions were listed
As open or closed
No task-owners queried
No deadlines imposed.

The guest speaker rose
He got to his feet
Assumed a cool pose
Said “Hi there, I’m Pete!”

That’s what he said
When he got up to speak
No hat on his head
At the meeting that week.

So why was he there
At the Monday team meeting?
Dark suit and great hair
Fake warmth in his greeting?

And what did he say
That well-groomed consultant
On that awful day
What was the resultant?

"Your boss couldn’t be here
He was feeling quite tired
But He asked me to tell you
You’re gone, you’re all fired!

"Not moved or suspended
And not redeployed.
We recommended
Now you’re unemployed."

For those who ...

... CONTINUES in ... AWAREWOLF & Other Crhymes Against Humanity for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.

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eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

NIGHTMERRIES: THE LIGHTER SIDE OF DARKNESS. This so-called "book" will chew you up, spit you out, and leave you twitching and frothing on the carpet. More than 60 dark and feculent fictions (read ‘em and weep) copiously and grotesquely illustrated.

AWAREWOLF & OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (Vot could be Verse?). We all hate poetry, right? But we might make an exception for this sick and twisted stuff. This devil's banquet of adults-only offal features more than 50 satanic sonnets, vitriolic verses and odious odes.

MANIC MEMES & OTHER MINDSPACE INVADERS. A disturbing repository of quirky quotes, sayings, proverbs, maxims, ponderances, adages and aphorisms. This menagerie holds no fewer than 184 memes from eight meme-species perfectly adapted to their respective environments.

MASTRESS & OTHER TWISTED TAILS. An unholy corpus of oddities, strangelings, bizarritudes and peculiaritisms, including but not limited to barbaric episodes of herring-flinging and kipper-kissing. A cacklingly bizarre read that may induce fatal hysteria. Not Recommended!

FIENDS & FREAKS and serpents, dragons, devils, lobsters, anguished spirits, hungry ghosts, hell-beings, zombies, organ-grinders, anti-gods, gods and other horse-thieves you wouldn't want to meet in a dark cosmos. Immature Content! Adults Maybe.

HAGS TO HAGGIS. An obnoxious folio featuring a puke of whiskey-soaked war-nags, witches, maniacs, manticores and escapegoats. Not to mention (please don't!) debottlenecking and desilofication, illustrated. Take your brain for a walk on the wild side. Leave your guts behind.

A Capella Science - Bohemian Gravity!

Professional inquiries: acapellascience [at] snamanagement [dot] com.
Lyrics and arrangement by Tim Blais and A Capella Science
Original music by Queen

The Law of the Conservation of Crap

Photo of Planet Earth by Flicker user DonkeyHotey under CC Attribution License. "My Daily Poo": Photo of toilet bowl by Billy Danner on his page at dailyscat dot blogspot dot com dot au. Animation by masterymistery.

Most critters including humans get their get-up-and-go from the stuff they eat and drink. And they get stuff to eat and drink by using their get-up-and-go to hunt or fish or harvest crops or stroll to the nearest McDonalds.

Scientists say you can’t create or destroy get-up-and-go. You can only change it into a different form of get-up-and-go, or into stuff.

Likewise, they say you can’t create or destroy stuff, you can only change it into other stuff or into get-up-and-go. For example, you can’t destroy a Big Mac, you can only change it into stuff.

By now you’re thinking this post is just a load of reprocessed burger. You’re probably snarling into your thickshake, “who says you can't make new stuff or get rid of existing stuff?”

“Says the Law!”

“What frickin’ law?”