Putin Does Not Want This Image Shared

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A Russian court recently declared that images of Vladimir Putin as “gay clown” are illegal. The court’s describes the image as follows:

Item 4071: a picture of a Putin-like person “with eyes and lips made up,” captioned with an implicit anti-gay slur, implying “the supposed nonstandard sexual orientation of the president of the Russian Federation.”

So. Whatever you do. DO NOT share this image on Facebook or Twitter. It infers Putin isn’t a 100% virile heterosexual male.

Please. Do. Not. Share. It.

Valdie Puttie won’t like it.


Cartoon: Mighty Mouse Trump with Tiny Paws

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Recently tRump tweeted something to the effect that Republicans were coming to “save the day”. I was reminded of the old Mighty Mouse Cartoons in which he calls out, “Here I come to Save the Day!” This inspired me to make this cartoon, with tiny paws.


Cartoon: Butterflies and Toads and Sledgehammers

This is my very first poem, written in November 1994, now illustrated.

I wrote it during a particularly stressful time. My mother had died of lung cancer a few months earlier, and a few weeks after her funeral, I was diagnosed with colon cancer, with an initial prognosis of about 10% chance of survival. When I wrote this, I had every expectation that I would be dead within a few years, perhaps a few months. I was still in great pain from my surgery, and the chemotherapy was a very recent memory. Even my family was in denial about the seriousness of my situation. I was only 34, and I found many of my peers abandoned me, not wanting to be around a sad person with a potentially imminent tragedy about to unfold. I felt no hope.

I am still alive 22 year later because new treatments procedures and chemotherapies had been developed. I say that I didn’t “beat the odds”, but rather “the odds changed”. The fact I am alive now does not mean that my situation was dire back then. I’ve had a number of people, including my immediate family, claim that because I survived, mutilated as I am, that I was never in any danger to begin with. “I just had a feeling you’d recover”, my sister told me later.

I’ve long thought about illustrating my poem with its vivid imagery, and so here it is:


A fragile and beautiful butterfly
fluttering delicately through the mists
of consciousness
pursued frantically by legions of toads
armed with nets
and sledgehammers.

November 17, 1994


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