dolores666's photos with the keyword: Memorials

Once more, an all-purpose doodle will have to do for both the Solstice knees-up and the 12th Ash memorial. I’m all over the place and gigantically pooped, thus it makes sense to do things when I can rather than when I’d like to do them or (less importantly, really) when it would be proper. Have a spiffing one, do.

aka Absent Friends. This is a generic, all-purpose memorial for all the people I’ve lost in the past few years. Life goes on, indeed, but in a somewhat diminished way. Here’s to you all, me old chinas.

This will have to do as both the customary Solstice greetings and the 11th Ash Memorial. I’m too cold and pooped and dispirited for discrete productions. Have a good one. Ash, I still miss you but no longer mourn you. Perhaps you’re lucky that you’re missing the colossal amount of crap we’ve been getting in these past 11 years. More power to your emancipated particles, me old china! XXX

Why wait for November 11? Let’s remember right now! It is said that one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expect a different outcome. According to this definition, with which I thoroughly concur, the state of Israel’s levels of madness must be off the charts. I know the whole world is slowly but surely going to the mad dogs but King Bibi, and his minions, and the pratts that keep on voting him in (ad nauseam?) are truly astonishing in their (wilfully?) blind derangement. And if this statement makes me an antisemitic fiend in the crooked eyes of the likes of Suella Braverman and her cohorts, so be it. I know what I am or I’m not. And so do those who know me half well. And so does God...if there be one.

Remember,remember 11 September. No, not that one. Or the one some Catalans like both to celebrate and kvetch about (how’s that for cognitive dissonance?). This is for the other-other one, the one that befell Chile 50 years ago. The one nobody likes to remember, let alone talk about. Karma, cause & effect, what goes ‘round comes ‘round, you push here something pushes back there...call it what you will, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Or as Michel Foucault pithily said: “Where there is power, there is resistance.” But the Greening Plodder and her pal, the Mouthy Mouse, remember. And they say so , loudly and with great wealth of sordid detail. Which, of course, irritates the Sanctimonious Reverend and his tiny indentured dependant. This is a small but not insignificant part of the exercise, naturally. Never hesitate to speak heresy. These days of blatant, endless lunacy, is the only thing that makes life bearable. Well, that and teddy bears. Henry Kissinger may you rot in Hell in the company of Milton Friedman and all his minions. Have a lovely week. music.youtube.com/watch?v=4JVaRloezno&list=OLAK5uy_m5dsS1Dt0iGfY4QA4aJpqLOzFKBebrfnU music.youtube.com/watch?v=T7TeBLyZTeQ&list=RDAMVMsePxSQfwP8o music.youtube.com/watch?v=rX_NFOLYxb8&list=RDAMVMsePxSQfwP8o

It’ as I say all the time, even ad nauseam: if you’re lucky enough to have any friends, love them and cherish them and be good to them. They will not be around forever; like everything else, they are here today and poof! gone tomorrow. Have a nice life.

Meet Amorosa, the Other Voodoo Poppet. She brings you the latest model of All-Purpose Gripe Indicator: the DIY APGI. Into her lovingly hand-crafted numinous blank vituperative speech bubble you record your beef of choice and Robert Balfour is your father’s brother. Metchik! Word to the wise. Think twice about what you register as your miserere du jour. Like her twin, Poppy, Amorosa she may be by name and by nature but stupid and/or non-discriminating she ain’t. You try and carp about, say, “the crisis of masculinity” or “the migrant problem” or some such shite and she’ll give you very short shrift, she will. You’re welcome. This here doodle is for Ash’s 9th anniversary and for my lovely friend Ms. P.P.

I’ve changed my mind and decided to do yet another Ash Memorial. I still can see him as he was the last time we met, there, standing in my kitchen, arms waving, eyes ablaze, ranting like it was going out of fashion about the absolute need of this wretched country to acquire a constitution. Also the even more urgent necessity to clear out the English language (or any other language, for that matter) of jargon of any kind: legalese, psychobabble, poliflummery, pseudo-science bunk and other though-terminating linguistic evils. I would entirely agree with him on the language thing but I though he was being naive on the first point and I would remind him of all those countries that have constitutions and are still a fucking mess and/or a pain in the gluteus maximus, like the good old USA and Australia. He was undeterred by this last argument, for as well as a master-ranter he was as stubborn as a mule; now and then he would even out-rant me. But we never quarrelled and we always had such fun rearranging the world. Ah well… sic transit gloria us puny humans. And everything else. I hope his sub-atomic particles are having fun, still and forever, somewhere spiffing, where constitutions are not needed and paranoid empires are unknown and cant is regarded a mere joke, something to pass the time in between oscillations. PS. Because o f The Dread Glitch this pic seems a bit on the late side, but never mind. I'll be uploading in strict order of "birth". Or there abouts....

Here be my favourite Kokeshi doll and the Perpetually Incensed Sprite with a quick reminder of the depths human cruelty can sink to when nobody dares say “Boo!” to the bullies. Now, who was it that said that for evil to succeed all is needed is for good people to keep shtum? Or something to that effect. Obviously not enough god people are saying boo to the geese of war, seeing what’s going on in the world right now. Not to mention the enduring ignorance (wilful or otherwise), the lies and myths and the rubbish “history” that still surround that most ignominious episode. Joseph Goebbels must be in seventh heaven in his little corner of hell, he must: Repeat a lie often enough and loud enough and, hey presto! it will become the truth. One can see that his political children and grandchildren have learnt his lessons well and even improved on them. (China next?) Thank you indentured MSM. You’re doing a grand job. And thank you Edward Sodding Bernays. May you rot in a specially nasty hell for ever and ever and them a bit more.

Worm Wisdom. (Ash Memorial Year 7) In the soothing, imperturbable shadow of Yggdrasil, the Níðhöggr and a couple of mates of his debate the endorsing of a possibly desirable early date for Ragnarok. This might well be the last public memorial I’ll upload -for a variety of mostly good reasons. But here goes anyways. I know Ash would have liked this doodle. Ash, me old china, we miss you more than ever but perhaps it was a good thing you went when you did. At least you’ve been spared this latest, the most Hideous Horror Show of all the recent whorish politics of this wretched country. More power to your particles, toots!

I've had a spiffing idea: this year you do the Memorial Rant. I'm tired of banging on about a subject on which practically everything has already been said and fat good it does, too. Not that I haven't got anything to say that I haven't said before but I simply can't be arsed. There. The small monster's text is from Leonard Cohen Story of Isaac.

For Ash 6.0 I know the anniversary proper is not for another couple of weeks yet but, as I also say, ad nauseam, I must concede, opportunity is as opportunity does. Who knows what state I’ll be in come the day? So, carpe doodle, deep sigh, big Oh Well… and on with life. Here’s looking at your subatomic particles, kiddo. We still miss you.

For Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Again. And again. And yet again. Today and forever. Lest we forget. Please feel free to write your own complementary set of curses along an imaginary dotted line. As imaginary as the “reasons” given 73 years ago by the grisly Truman creature, and all the other meat puppets who came after him, for dropping the bombs that killed, all said and done (and this a very conservative estimate), well over 200,000 civilians at one stroke. Well, two strokes, if you want to be fussy. Not to mention the ones who died, slowly and agonizingly, of radiation burns and poisoning. I know I repeat myself but…A pox on “Them” all! “Ahab is forever Ahab, man. This whole act’s immutably decreed. ‘Twas rehearsed by thee and me billion years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates’ lieutenant; I act under orders.” – Herman Melville, Moby Dick “The greatest evil is not now done in those sordid ‘dens of crime’ that Dickens loved to paint…But it is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed, and well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voice.” – C. S. Lewis, author’s preface, 1962, The Screwtape Letters www.globalresearch.ca/the-bombing-of-nagasaki-august-9-1945-the-un-censored-version/5345274 www.globalresearch.ca/hiroshima-a-military-base-according-to-president-harry-truman-2/5602782 www.globalresearch.ca/the-satanic-nature-of-the-atomic-bombings-of-hiroshima-and-nagasaki/5649684

Not much to comment, really. The Vietnamese are still paying for the effects of Agent Orange and there are people all over the world that still defend the mendacious, totally unpardonable invasion of Vietnam; and even those who dismiss the Mai Lai massacre as "a slight mix-up". No end to people's wilful stupidity, obviously.

Is that time of the year again. Darkness drifts gently away and the days get longer by and by. Not physically noticeable, but the blood and the imagination know it’s happening and that’s good enough for me. This year the honour of leading the celebratory shindig falls to Ding and Dong, the Bomber Harriers. Dong takes away the gloom and the bad taste of the Scottish debacle and the moronic Brexit that lingers between my clenched teeth. Ding brings light and merriment and frippery and large doses of persiflage. Something tells me this coming year large doses of persiflage are going to be much needed. Overseeing the ritual is Manolito, the Hardy Perennial Alien, wielding his astral chums and wearing his rude T-shirt, assisted by my favourite alter ego, Spikky, the Spaniard in Your Works and her bosom pal Emiliano “The Mexican”, the Problematic Penguin. And behold! Even the timid and antisocial Repulsive Moon Beasts of the Plateau of Leng have emerged from their quarrelsome seclusion to bid farewell and greet the darkness and the light respectively. All is fluffy. Happy Transition, folks! PS. I’m truly amazed that I’ve actually managed to finish this here thingy in time, what with the crappy health scene and the high levels of New Computer Neurosis and all. And it will have to double as both solstice card and the Ashok Chandra Patel Memorial Service. Ash left me bereft, bored and bewildered 4 years ago come Friday. I buggeringly miss him so... :-(

This one, also made entirely with genetically modified nicked clipart stuff I found out there, I’ve dedicated to my darling dead friend, Ash, who was into Norse mythology, especially root-chewing giant worms (or wyrms, as they’re called in old English -or by pretentious people who like to affect an old-fashion mode of expression). He also had a very cuckoo sense of humour and I know he would have pissed himself laughing. I do miss him a lot.

(For Robert Sheckley, also gone but not forgotten) A couple of Vermicimorphic Farfalloide anchorites have found a strange being asleep in the woods and are much intrigued by it. They think the creature might be an apostrophe. The otherworldly but highly imaginative hermits have no idea what an apostrophe is, but still they think the little entity might be one such thing. No, I don't know either. Ask BoomBoom; he might know.