dolores666's photos with the keyword: Fun&Games

Gone Voynich 2. And here’s the second.

Gone Voynich 1. First of a mini-series based on some of the illustrations found in the mysterious Voynich Manuscript. The fact that to this day it has not been determined whether it is the real Macoy (i.e., genuine), or its date, let alone its authorship, is irrelevant to my purpose, which is to have enormous fun “doing things” to some of the plates. There will be more. Have a grand weekend.

In these godawful times of heightened pretentious nonsense and language distorted, when not downright corrupted, there’s a new kid on the pompous linguistic block: elevate. A perfectly ordinary, useful and sensible word is being tossed all over the place, in the most absurd of contexts, whether appropriate or not. In protest to this kind of balderdash, the young Webbies have decided to “elevate” mischief to new heights and, having broken into the private cellars of the Shub-Niggurath, have gotten gloriously plastered. They can be seen here re-enacting a regular session in our very own House of Commons -who seem to be getting commoner by the day. This inglorious conduct has caused much shock and awe amongst their relatives and their governess, the Slender Butterfly Man. We, personally, are very much inclined to join in the fun. As I said, times are really crappy and any break from the unquestioned official piffle is most welcome. Even the Shubby has looked upon the misdemeanour with a nebulous shade of indulgence. After all she doesn’t drink, really. She only keeps a cellar to annoy the Final Void branch of the Temperance League, dontyouknow. Today, instead of the usual un po’di mu’, I offer a snippet of wisdom found in, of all places, a P. G. Woodhouse novel. I dedicate it to Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates and Warren Buffet. Enjoy. "He was suffering from that form of paranoia which makes men multimillionaires. Nobody would be foolish enough to become a multimillionaire if it were not for the desire to prove himself irresistible."

Here, a little sweet nothing, to counteract all the bile brought forth by my poor liver -not to mention my heart, over the Catalan Soap Opera. Let’s play on, people, let’s play on.

This is a slightly less personal version of my very first wedding postcard, wot I did for a darling friend who's just got hitched. The Shoggies offer their version of this most bizarre of institutions, and we all wish the couple well.

For W.K. Gone from my ecosystem but not forgotten. And this completes, for the time being, the mini-series Foundation Philosophy for Very Simple Life-Forms. I can't see why lowly organisms should miss on the agonies and the delights of unbridled intellectual speculation and similar fun & games just because they spring from the demotic mudflats of evolution. There.

A great wind has risen from the South, tearing a breach between the worlds and carrying in its wake BoulderGirl and her Companions and her spinning Wibbles. See her come leaping over the Mountains of Madness, to bring us the merry dance of chakra scrubbing (whatever a chakra may be when it's at home), for to rid our poor souls of Crapitalist Crud and other Chicagoesque miasmas. Watch her Wibbles wobble and whirl & swirl and fade in & out of several dimensions all at once. You have never seen Wibbles like this in all your travelling days, for these be not only self-aware Wibbles but self-determining to boot. They know neither god nor master, like BoulderGirl herself doesn’t either. They travel and minuet with her only because it pleases them to do so. Even the Webby ProtoShoggoth is impressed; he thinks that were he the marrying kind he would very much like to marry the unruly lot of them and to hell with the quiet life he always claimed was his fondest heart's desire. The Flying Bijou Elephantine Entity, ancestress of all things pachydermic, is simply trunk-smacked with delight. Come, get up from your spuddy couches and out of your petty shell-worlds and join us in a spot of carousing and ecstatic boogie-woogie. What do you think you have got to loose, other than a few preconceptions? Look, even the delectable Kokopelli has come out to play us a tune or two! Allons enfants, Avanti, o popolo, life is effing short and true pleasure even shorter, not to say more infrequent than a Tory with a brain. And who knows that all that dancing-dancing might not open a proper sipapu in the fabric of our crummy old self-inflicted reality and then...Fifth World is our oyster!

Here's wishing you all a happy Serpentine's Day, this year's groovy alternative to that other Mawk-Fest, Valentine's Day, aka Consume, Consume You Mad Fools II. Observed and celebrated by aether drifting Serpents, insurgent Shoggoths, absconded Lloigor, defecting Larvae of the Final Void, educated Snails, stroppy Gorgons, sundry Monsters and other such like truly chic Entities, on February 13th. Or thereabouts, we're not particular. On this date we exchange unusual gifts, Chinese takeaways, Jolly Rogers, cuddles, fiery rants, crappy jokes and imaginative, colourful insults provided they are dispensed in a non-threatening, recreational sort of way. They who can also exchange portraits of famous free radicals*, rogue subatomic particles and pussycats rescued from Schrödinger’s infamous box. Them so inclined renew their vows of love, comradeship, mutual cooperation, reciprocal back-scratching and highly profitable communal dodgydealery. Flash dancing in the streets, impromptu morality plays, kamikaze happenings, garden parties (see pic), riotous shindigs, concerts and improving lectures will take place all over East London as from today. All events are free and accessible to everybody but they are advertised only through telepathic hallucinations; so, if you wish to attend keep your inner ears sharply open. Else, you can ask Rosie, who this year has volunteered to act as Chaos coordinator. *Likenesses of The Two Davids, Rosa Luxemburg, Buenaventura Durruti and the Cthulhu Brothers remain great favourites. In fact, this year we ran out of "I Love Rosa" T-shirts by mid-January.