i like this. it is good because it makes me think of when i was little and was visiting my Granny and she had leftover coloring books from my older half-siblings from the late 70's and it was good times.

Look kids, you can learn to play the guitar, even if you have nubby vinyl hands!

Note near the bottom right it advertises "National Rejector." Sometimes I wish I had one of those. (like right now, at work. or at the bars with skeezy dudes all slobbering up on my ass. ew.)

Ah yes - now I know what would make me irresistable to gay men!

This was found on this site, here

Sunny, alright.

a basic image from the NOAA site

i like doing random-ass searches on google images. on my other blog, for example, you will see a pic of a cat with angel wings. that came from googling "dead cat."

this and the next two images were found googling "perfect life."

some of you will know why this is so super. and some of you will be wondering why. at any rate, here's another contribution from the google images gallery.

This also showed up under "perfect life" for some odd reason. or maybe not so odd? hard to say - the guy does look pretty happy and he is very kind in being so welcoming to his guests. i just hope some actually showed up.

also from kaki king (see below)
in case you don't know her (in which case ou suck) - she rocks

from kaki king's photo log on buzznet, too lazy to link right now.

creepy in a creepy sort of way.

This picture comes from Michael Hague's website. He is an amazing illustrator (tho I am not very fond of his "bears" work, a bit corny if you ask me). He illustrated a version of Carl Sandburg's "Rutabaga Stories" Vols. 1 & 2. I would post photos of that or link to it, but -goshdarnit- I can't find ANY copies of Vol. 1 and only the cover of Vol. 2 online.

But I can type up an excerpt:

When the first boy came to the house of Gimme the Ax, he was named Please Gimme. When the first girl came she was named Ax Me No Questions. And both of the children had the shadows of valleys by night in their eyes and the lights of early morning, when the sun is coming up, on their foreheads.
And the hair on the topf of their heads was a dark wild grass. And they loved to turn doorknobs, open the doors, and run out to have the wind comb their hair and touch their eyes and put its six soft fingers on their foreheads.
And then because no more boys came and no more girls came, Gimme the Ax said to himself, "My first boy is my last and my last girl is my first and they picked their names themselves."
Please Gimme grew up and his ears got longer. Ax Me No Questions grew up and her ears got longer. And they kept on living in the house where everything is the same as it always was. They learned to say just as their father said, "The chimney sits on top of the house and lets the smoke out, the doorknobs open the doors, their windows are always either open or shut, we are always either upstairs or downstairs - everything is the same as it always was."
After a while they began asking each other in the cool of the evening after they had eggs for breakfast in the morning, "Who's who? How much? And what's the answer?"
"It is too much to be too long anywhere," said the tough old man, Gimme the Ax.
And Please Gimme and Ax Me No Questions, the tough son and the tough daughter of Gimme the Ax, answered their father, "It IS too much to be too long anywhere."
So they sold everything they had, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, everything except their ragbags and a few extras.
When the neighbors saw them selling everything they had, the different neighbors said, "They are going to Kansas, to Kokomo, to Canada, to Kankakee, to Kamchatka, to the Chatahoochee."
One little sniffer, with his eyes half shut and a mitten on his nose, laughed in his hat five ways and said, "They are going to the moon and when they get there they will find everything is the same as it always was."

From Rutabaga Stories, pub. 1922.

I mean, really, how can you dislike someone who can write that and say things like:
I won't take my religion from any man who never works except with his mouth.
-Carl Sandburg

When am I ever not myself?