October 7th, 2024

best viewed in baskerville 10

  • el
  • pt
  • when I read this, with little liza jane playing in the background, my first inclination was to cop some Klimt and post it… Danae probably, that face, the curves, beautiful ripe young womanhood with a shower of gold coins. Klimt totally tops Titian in the Danae dept.

    I remember the good old days, when I was Zeus…

    September 30th, 2024

    I like to watch — II

    Watching Leslie watch.

    August 9th, 2024

    Stoning two birds

    Halley Suitt (Webbly 2.0ischenfrau and mother) and Jeannine Gailey Hall (tech writer and poet) take their lickin’ from Madame L. this morning in a brilliant post that includes the line..


    more cowbell’s please, Charlotte.

    August 3rd, 2024

    Arianna Huffington talks like Zsa Zsa

    …and Ponzi’s got the look. See what happens when the spacebar breaks?





    August 1st, 2024

    mother/daughter super-glue

    (dexterity 3 jury-rig 3; I roll 20s.)
    ((Nerd alert))

    ’s a pity my favorite mommy blogger wasn’t at the gathering.

    July 14th, 2024

    We, the few, the proud, the bilious…

    Just a couple of Dylan verses then…

    Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
    Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
    But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
    You can tell by the way she smiles
    See the primitive wallflower freeze
    When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
    Hear the one with the mustache say, “Jeeze
    I can’t find my knees”
    Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
    But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

    The peddler now speaks to the countess who’s pretending to care for him
    Sayin’, “Name me someone that’s not a parasite and I’ll go out and say a prayer for him”
    But like Louise always says
    “Ya can’t look at much, can ya man?”
    As she, herself, prepares for him
    And Madonna, she still has not showed
    We see this empty cage now corrode
    Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
    The fiddler, he now steps to the road
    He writes ev’rything’s been returned which was owed
    On the back of the fish truck that loads
    While my conscience explodes
    The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
    And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

    Images captcha’ed and returned to my own infernal dialog by RB and Madame L.

    May 10th, 2024

    All we like sheep…

    Trying to get a handel on that JMo’s birthday.

    Forever Freud, Forever Freud… may you stay-ay-ay-ay, forever Freud.

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