Postcard. Wandering as lonely as a lead balloon among the Hills of Temporary Oblivion, not a sodding daffodil in sight, I came across the tutelary spirit of the region, the Solid Marble Maiden. I introduced myself very politely and asked her for political asylum. She was much amused and not a little bemused, but she was also very polite and quite sweet about the strange request and said she’ll look into it, since she’s not sure she can grant such a boon on a) short notice and b) to a perfect stranger with no more recommendation than the company of a small snake and no local sponsorship whatsoever. I said I’d have a word with the local Shoggoths, or even the Ineffable Shub-Niggurath. At the mention of the Ineffable One, miss Solid Marble’s eye’s brightened and immediately said that my application was very likely to be successful, as she has tea & cakes regularly with the tremendously fertile Black Goat of the Woods With Far Too Many Churumbeles. Awaiting the verdict, I remain, yours sincerely, despondent, semi-desperate and as stubborn as ever.

Bring Back Cthulhu! This is just a quick visit to upload one of the best cartoons ever, even if it comes from the dreaded Guardian. Or Martin Rowson, whom I generally find on the crude side. But this is genuine archive stuff. It’s very gratifying to see that my exhortations to incorporate the Great Catnapper of R’lyeh into the psychopathic current body-politic are beginning to have some effect and are finally infiltrating the collective unconscious, no matter how subtly. Here’s to you, oh great tentacled one. But beware of succumbing to the temptation to work for anyone vastly more hideous and lethal than yourself. Never say I didn’t warn you, me old china.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/picture/2020/feb/24/martin-rowson-government-dominic-cummings-weirdos-misfits-coronaviruscartoon

Alien Squid. Have some more mystic squid. This lot are very good for your mental health, sing beautifully and can do a thousand and one interesting things with seaweed, from vegetarian sashimi to high-class jewellery. If you ask them nicely they’ll send you vivid dreams of the R-Evolution. For a modest burnt offering they’ll send hideous nightmares to the likes of Priti Patel -not that she’d know a nightmare from a hole in the ground, being one herself, but still!

Love Sneaks. A Weird Valentine for an Aching World. One of the best things about living by your own rules and making your own traditions is that you can break them and skip them as you see fit. So, this year, almost as a protest (but not quite) I’ve done a rum version of a valentine. It’s dedicated to Anita O’Day, who did a delicious, sensuously lazy version of that rather bland song. And to my mate, the learned professor don Ricardo Hinks, because I remember once, a long time ago, we discussed apostrophes over coffee and hot chocolate. And of course, to all the lost souls out there wot are dragging themselves best they can along the disconsolate trails of life-after-Brexshit. If you can call it life.
Also, this year, no anti-schmaltz feast. We are too busy planning the R-Evolution, which is more needed that ever it was. Make your own (both the fest and the R-Evolution). But have a spiffing 14^th of February all the same.
And remember: language matters. Language precedes though. You get raised by toads, you’ll never evolve beyond croaking. You don’t mind how you speak and soon enough you won’t mind how you behave. And so on.
Have un po’ di mu’and a couple of links with fangs:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJqw3b77Z2c
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqpriUFsMQQ
https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2019/dec/01/laziness-has-won-apostrophe-society-admits-its-defeat
https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2020/feb/01/police-called-in-after-poster-tells-residents-of-flats-to-speak-english

Chthonians. (Aka Cthonians). The invaluable Cthulhu Mythos Encyclopaedia* has this to say about the Chthonians: 1) that they are a race of highly intelligent, very long-lived subterranean tunnel-diggers, 2) that they look like short-tentacled squids with no eyes, 3) that they are led by a seriously outsized member of their species named Shudde-M’ell, 4) that they are outstanding telepaths and 5) that they are very protective of their privacy and their young.
On the whole the Chthonians are inclined to leave others inhabitants of this our beautiful planet well alone as long as they, said additional dwellers, leave them alone in turn and don’t try and steal their treasured eggs. (Cave egg collectors. You have just been given wise counsel.)
They are practically invulnerable to almost anything you can throw at them bar high grade radiation and immersion in water. Also, a thingummybob called the Tikkoun Elixir, the Ankh, the Vach-Viraj chant -whatever that is when it’s at home- and the Elder Sign can disagree with them to some extent.
They are not technologically inclined, overall, although it is rumoured that some queer artefacts found in certain deepest parts of the ocean floor might have belonged to them.
Once every twenty-three years, the Great Old One Shudde-M’ell comes to the ruined city where the Chthonians once were imprisoned for a family reunion and to catch up with the latest gossip. This is always a grand, merry occasion, especially for the latest batches of offspring, who are, like children all over the cosmos, prone to mischief and partial to making very silly jokes and god-awful puns.
The Cthulhu Mythos Encyclopaedia, Daniel Harms. Elder Sign Press 2008