Gorgs Graphic Souk

Recognition. What can I say that I haven’t said many, may, many times before? What can anyone say that will have the slightest deterring effect on the theological genocidal Fire&Brimstone fury of the perpetrators, the obscenely servile acquiescence of their minions and the hypocritically vapid attempts of dissent of a few big girl’s blouses that only yesterday were toeing the party line? Any time now they, the BG’sBs, will be paying homage to that much yapped about but never meant fiction, the two state solution. Said two states will consist of an increasingly expanding Greater Israel and a tiny wee, two-square-yards of a cenotaph to a now extinct landless nation, in some remote corner of, say, Antarctica. Gaza will be renamed Trumpistan-Sur-Mer and Lebanon Bibi’s Folly. Oh, how happy we’ll all be…

Twin Ghosts. This is a little something from me to me. To cheer me up. Bumba knows I deed it.

A Pretty Pickle. No matter how hard I look, I cannot see that anything short of a global cataclysm would reverse the flow of that river, become a riotous sluice from the sewers of not only the pestilent dominance of the powerful but also the hypocritical poltroonery and the dazzled obedience of its servants; not to mention the bovine indifference of the We The People, wilfully blind to anything that doesn’t impact them directly…or so they think. Today is voicing solidarity with the Palestinians and tomorrow will be merely wearing a keffiyeh. And the day after that They will come for me, and you, and your children and your neighbour and your sisters and your cousins and your aunts. And you will not hear Them coming because you’ll be to busy panicking about that attack from Russia that Sky News has been promising you lately. Get the paper bags out of storage and beef up the kitchen table! And have a spiffing weekend.

Going Walkies. Yes, follow the disobedient fish wot swims against time and tide. It’s the only way to ensure the survival of your soul, otherwise you may grow so accustomed to rank, sadistic stupidity and atrocities-as-spectacle that you’ll end up confusing Gaza with The Great British Bake-Off and believing that Donald Trump has more than one brain cell and Keir Starmer a moral compass. Have a splendiferous life…if you still have one.

Sulking (Prov. 1:16) That’s it really. All is said. But for good measure have this:
What is crooked cannot be made straight,
And what is lacking cannot be numbered.
Ecc. 1:15
And this
For in much wisdom is much grief,
And he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
Ecc. 1:18
Stay in the shade and have a spiffing weekend.

Well Met 2(1). Having exhausted their capacity to put up with the psychotic godawful mental retardation of current politicians and their mindlessly engineered sociopolitical events in this miserable plane, the merry Reddish Larvae and their chums, the Bijoux Dinos, have decided to migrate to the OtherOtherworld which is nearly as pleasant as the Otherworld but not quite so dicey. On their way there they have come across the Zen Worm and, captivated by its peaceful countenance and modest demeanour (not to mention its Teddy) have invited it to join them in said alternative level of existence. ‘You really don’t want to hang around here much longer, mate’, they say. ‘Why, any time now your poor old Teddy might be forcibly enrolled into the PCC (The Patriotic Cadets Corps) and eventually sent to fight some imaginary evil Russians in some godforsaken corner of the planet. Or worse…’
I can easily guess which way the wise worm will swing. I wish them all all the best and I wish I could go with them.

Solstice ‘25. It’s broiling hot and really there’s no reasons to be cheerful anywhere you look. All the same, have the merriest Solstice you can grab. Build a politically incorrect bonfire in your garden/balcony/common. Jump over it; it’s traditional. Make a burnt offering to the tutelary of your choice (you never know, it might work…)
Stay cool. Life is short.

Contemplating. Just a thought, you know. Not terribly serious but all the same… I mean, who the fuck wants to hang around much longer in the kind of world we have managed to cook up for ourselves, what with the whingeing genocidal maniacs and the psychotic infants in power and the premier league idiots telling one that one’s bodily ailments are all one’s own fault (for failing to pray to baby Jesus or comply with CBT and so on)? Really. Of course the beasties and the flowers totally disagree and still endorse and press for the usual bloody-minded resistance which, they claim, is NOT futile. Oh, well. We’ ll see… Weekend coming up. Have a splendiferous one.

Sunny Dino. Here be a gift wot is not Greek and it’s useful and dead cute into the bargain. The young Dino is very impressed and the flowers & ferns well chuffed. Happy days!

Moonlight Flowers. Who says I can’t do flowers? (Or flae’hs, as Boob-Boom calls them.) Here be proof.