New Year Wishes - and - A Christmas Morning Visitor

 

                                                            A Christmas Morning Visitor 

                                                            An original acrylic painting on canvas panel

                                                           9" X 12", unframed

                                                                            ( click on image to enlarge )

     For at least another week or more, people are going to continue to wish each other a

happy new year.  This annual ritual is intended to say that we have put all of the problems 

of the old year behind us, and that the year ahead will be a better one for all of us.  But

of course, when we exchange these greetings, we are deliberately pretending to have a 

temporary ignorance of all the ongoing disasters and tragedies which we see in the news 

everyday.  We know that a change in the calendar does nothing to change world events. 

     Wars and death go on without letup. Global warming increases, while we continue to 

cut down our rain forests and burn our fossil fuels.  Countless numbers of species have

gone extinct, and our own survival is still in question.  So what is it that makes us all so

willing to participate in this yearly charade of global harmony, and wish each other another

happy new year?  

     Maybe the answer is simply the word hope.  There is a line from a poem by Alexander

Pope, which says "Hope springs eternal in the human breast." Hope is the only thing we 

have left to cling to, when everything else is gone.  There is a poem by Emily Dickinson 

which carries that message.  I will print it here.

                    Hope is the thing with feathers

                    That perches in the soul,

                    And sings the tune without the words,

                    And never stops at all.

 

                    And sweetest in the gale is heard;

                    And sore must be the storm 

                    That could abash the little bird 

                    That kept so many warm.

                     I've heard it in the chillest land, 

                     And on the strangest sea;

                     Yet never in extremity,

                     It asked a crumb of me.

     Others convey the same message in simpler terms.  In the Rogers and

Hammerstein musical, South Pacific, nurse Nellie sings that she is stuck 

like a dope, with a thing called hope, and she can't get it out of her heart. 

     I tend to become very discouraged about the state of the world today,

but I too have to be optimistic, because without hope there is nothing left 

for us.  So let me offer my heartfelt hopes that all who read this, will have

a healthy and rewarding new year ahead.

                                             Eugene P. McNerney 

P.S.    When you have the winter blues, chickadees and other song birds, 

visiting a bird-feeder outside your breakfast room window, on cold, 

snowy mornings, can be a real day-brightener.  Chickadees are such 

spirited little, aerial acrobats, that they spread good cheer.  

      A bird-feeder stocked with sunflower seeds, can be a good

inexpensive anti-depressant.  That is a prescription I can recommend.

    

                   

Devine Justification For Mass Murder - and - The Battle Of Jericho

                                          The Battle Of Jericho

                                         Illustration by Julius Schnoor von Carolsfeld ( 1794 to 1872 )

                                   

      The death tolls continue to rise.  Day after day, year after year, century after century,

as far back as the beginnings of recorded history, people have been marching across 

borders and slaughtering their neighbors.  The motivations for these bloody invasions is 

most often greed for the neighbor's lands, wealth, and natural resources, often 

accelerated by a desire for revenge for past incursions.  But the excuses they give for 

killing innocent civilians is most often that their supreme deity has told them that these

executions are justifiable, or that this God even ordered them to commit the slaughter.   

     When Vladimir Putin decided to invade Ukraine, in a bloody assault, intending to 

absorb that nation into his own, he made sure that the head of the Russian Orthodox 

Church would speak out in approval of the invasion.  Such complicit approval from the 

supposed, high representative of God on earth, is somehow intended to quell any 

anxieties, which the faithful followers of the flock may feel about the killings of so many 

thousands of their neighbors. Whatever moral authority the head of the church may 

have had before his agreement with Putin, he tossed it all out of the window, but in 

exchange for his cooperation, he gets to retain his power over the ignorant masses 

of the faithful believers.

     The story is always the same. The aggressive political leaders acquire the support of 

the religious leaders, to help justify their bloody assaults.  Religion is always the key to

help justify all manner of death and destruction.  

      Now that we have the new horrors of the slaughters in Israel and Palestine, I am 

reminded of the biblical story of the battle Jericho.  That is the tale of how the God 

of the Israelites gave them the land of another tribe of people, who happened to have a 

different god, and were not particularly interested in moving.  As the story goes, Joshua,

the leader of the Israelites, needed the power of God, to help him destroy the great,

walled city called Jericho.  So he and the religious faithful, marched around the city walls

for seven days, blowing horns, after-which, God knocked down the walls for them.  

That is when the story becomes more telling about religion.  Joshua killed every man,

woman and child in the city, along with all of their livestock, because his God told him 

to do it!

     The story of Jericho is pure fiction, added to the Old Testament by a later writer,

as propaganda to enhance the omnipotent, powerful image of God.  Archeologists

have proven that no city of that kind ever existed in that area.  The Old Testament

is a collection of historical fiction, written and collected by tribal leaders, intended 

to hold the tribe together, and to find some kind of explanation of how we came to

be here, because they did not have the knowledge of science.  The trouble comes

now, in the twenty first century, when so many, stupid people insist that every word

of the "Holy Book" is absolute fact, written by the hand of an invisible, supreme

being.  The only holey books are the kind which are infested with bookworms.  

The books which proclaim themselves to be the Holy word of some-kind of 

supreme being are wishful fantasies..  

     Still, the festering religious divisions in society, continue to create the limited 

viewpoints of the people who insist that they have the one true religion, and all 

other religions are false, which continues to tare at the hope of any lasting peace 

for this weary planet. The wars and the deaths and  bloodshed will go on forever, 

unless we change.

     There is one religious rule which several religions have in similar forms, often 

called The Golden Rule.  Simply stated, it says "Do unto others as you would have

 them do unto you".  If everyone on earth practiced that rule, this world would be 

a wonderful place to live. 

                                                                  Eugene P. McNerney

 

 

 

 

 

         

     

        

Sunday In The Park ( without George )

 

     One of Stephen Sondheim's best known musicals is called Sunday In The Park 

With George.  It is a fictionalized version of the pointillist artist Georges Seurat, as

he draws inspiration for his work, during visits to the public parks of Paris.  I have 

lived beside a park for over sixty years, and that close access to views of the 

changing seasons, has undoubtedly been an inspiration in my own work.

     This past Sunday, I was finally able to spend a short time in the park, after being 

confined to a sickbed for most of the month.  During my confinement I had not witnessed 

the daily, gradual changes in the foliage, from the fading greens to the more brilliant 

tones of Autumn.  I saw with surprise, that many of the maples had already hit the peak 

of color, and had already begun to set their leaves adrift on the winds.

    I did not risk a health setback by walking the full length of the park on Sunday, but I 

did take a few photos of the section closest to me.  I have reached an age at which it 

becomes a question,  as to how many more of these Autumn changes I am likely to 

witness.  We all need to ask ourselves whether that last fading leaf, drifting away on the 

wind, may be the last we see.  Perhaps then we will plan our lives more wisely.

     I will post a few of my Sunday photos here.  Perhaps there is another artist out there 

who will find a bit of inspiration in them, maybe even one by the name of George.

                                                                          Eugene P. McNerney

Freedom Of Speech - and - The Raven Is Lost In The Woods

   

                                                             The Raven Is Lost In The Woods

                                                              An original acrylic painting on primed panel

                                                              8" X 10",  unframed

                                                                      ( Click on image to enlarge.)

     This little painting is one from a series of book paintings I did a few years ago.  I'm not

sure whether or not I considered it finished at that time.  It has a more somber tone than 

some of the other works in the series, but perhaps that is appropriate.  It does seem to fit 

in well with the coming season of ghosts and goblins.  I recall that, around this time of 

year, Mr. Poe was fond of giving readings of his famous, eerie poem, as an entertainment 

for guests. 

      There is no particular reason why this book of poems should become lost in a gloomy,

dark woods, just as there is no reason for any books to become lost, but they do.  Things

do get lost.  But the real problem comes when books are deliberately taken away from us, 

by ignorant, small-minded politicians, who believe they have the right to take away our 

freedom of speech, and the freedom to read what other people want to tell us.

     I noticed this week, that the last week of September is designated as Banned Book 

Week.  I don't know how many people may have seen that reminder, and found 

themselves some good, banned books to read, but I hope there were many who did so.  

It seems to me that it is always the semi-illiterate folks among us, who inevitably try to 

censor what we are reading, as soon as they gain the political power to do it.  They don't 

actually read the books they take away from us.  If they did read the valuable information 

they try to destroy, they might actually learn something.  They are simply determined to 

prevent anyone from reading about people whose lives are too uncomfortably, different 

from their own lifestyles and beliefs.   They are unable to overcome their prejudices and 

fears, of anyone who they see as somehow unworthy of full participation in society, with 

the full freedoms of self determination, whether because of their race, country of origin, 

religion, sexual orientation, or a variety of other differences, which  they deem as 

somehow not fully acceptable.  

     These stupid autocrats gain their positions of power because the voters who put

them in office. are just as illiterate and prejudiced as they are, if not more so.  But 

the day may come when those voters  finally realize that if you take away the rights

of a few of us, you take away the rights of all of us.  When they feel the pain of lost,

personal freedoms themselves, they may well say, like Mr. Poe's raven, "Nevermore!"

                                                             Eugene P. McNerney

                       

The Enduring Ignorance - and - Horatio's New Role

 

     "Call me Hakoris!" 

     Those were the spoken words which interrupted my troubled thoughts this morning.

That short sentence was reminiscent of the first line of Herman Melville's novel Moby Dick.

But when I looked to see who had arrived, I saw that the speaker was not attired for 

whaling.  My little friend, thespian and sometime model, Horatio H. Hamster Esq., had 

popped in for a visit, and his costume was more appropriate for an ancient Egyptian 

palace, than it was for a vessel like the Pequod.   His opening line had eliminated any 

question of what the middle "H" in his name stood for, during this visit.

     I greeted him warmly and thanked him for stopping by for a little chat.  It is always 

good to hear the latest, inside news about the events and troubles, here in our little 

animal kingdom.  He seemed a bit depressed, despite his royal finery, so, as I began 

a quick sketch of him, I asked how things were going for him and his friends.

     He answered that he was sorry to have to say that his theater company at the troubled

Quadruped Playhouse, was even more sharply divided than ever.  Although a majority 

of the company had voted to expel Donald J. Skunk from membership, because of his 

unrelenting stench, he still has a minority of supporters who want the company to have 

a second vote on his membership.  The skunk's friends are still the same cast of 

characters, including Lindsey Groundhog, Ted Coyote, Kevin McWeasel and that 

whole family of nearly deaf and blind foxes.  And adding to this turmoil in the company 

is the skunk's cousin, Ron deCivet Cat, who would like those supporters of the skunk 

to switch their loyalty to him and his particularly unpleasant aroma.  He wants to make

a name for himself by directing a new production of Shakespeare's Antony And 

Cleopatra, staring himself as Antony, and Julia Rabbit as Cleopatra.  He offered 

Horatio the role of Ptolemy X111.

                  "The P in Ptolemy is silent, you know", said Horatio, "and my part in the

            production would be equally silent because Ptolemy The Eighth was already

            dead before the play begins.  When I Ptolled him that, he said that he would

            do a rewrite and put in a different pharaoh.  So I Ptolled him that it was not

            Ptolerable to rewrite Shakespeare, and that adding a different pharaoh was a 

            Pterrible idea, and that it will end up as a Ptrully Ptragic Ptragedy!"

     When I asked Horatio if his words had any effect on the deCivit Cat's plans for the 

play, he said that the rewrite was continuing. evidently with the intention of eliminating

the role of Cleopatra as much as possible, because everyone could see that Julia was

far more talented than Ron, and he just didn't like being out shown on stage.  

     The last information that Horatio had received from the amateur playwright, was 

that Horatio would play a Pharaoh by the name of Hakoris, who also lived well 

before the time of Antony and Cleopatra.  So it seemed that accuracy and logic

were not figuring into the author's version of history.

     But it was beginning to look like the play would never get on stage, because 

Horatio said that a majority of the company was becoming tired of the Civet stench. 

     As I was finishing my sketch, and Horatio was preparing to leave, I asked him

how I should say goodbye to an ancient Ptolemaic Pharaoh.  And he quickly replied,

"Just lay your Ptributes on my Ptomb!"   With that he was gone as silently as he had

arrived.

     After Horatio's departure, my thoughts returned to the nation's troubling current

events.  The notable, current contenders for presidential nominee of the Republican

Party, have just run a dog and pony show through Iowa and Wisconsin, and it was

mostly dogs.  Only one of this group of cowards was willing to say that he would 

not vote for a traitor to our democracy, to become president again.

    What is the reason for this cowardice?  One third or more of the MAGA base

of their party has fully accepted Trump's lies about a stolen election and a politicized

Department of Justice.  They are all wallowing in their deliberate ignorance as 

happily as hogs in a mud-hole.  Any candidate who wants to win the votes of these 

fools knows that he, or she, can not contradict the liar-in-chief.  They value their

own political ambitions more than they value truth and justice.

   And what is the reason for the steady allegiance of the MAGA idiots, to such 

an obvious fraud as Donald Trump?  I can't help but feel that when a man who

holds the office of the President of United States, is constantly displaying his 

hatreds, prejudices, xenophobia, and mistrust of our federal institutions, then his 

openly warped behavior makes it seem somehow more comfortable for people

to show the same warped flaws in their own character. 

     And what about the so-called leading Republican alternative to Trump, Ron 

Desantis?  Like the good little Nazi that he is, he has been busily taking away 

the personal freedoms of the people of Florida: banning books, telling teachers

what they are allowed to teach, telling women that they do not have the right

to determine their own future or the control of their own bodies, and rewriting

history to fit in with his own views.  When he stands up and proclaims that the

Africans who arrived here as slaves were here in some kind trade-school, why 

wasn't he laughed off the stage.  He seems to have forgotten that they were 

not here by choice, and that the so-called trade-school lasted their entire lives.

     If Desantis is the best presidential candidate that the Republican's can 

offer us, then, as my little friend Horatio might say as Ptolemy, ........

 that is a Ptruly Ptragic Ptragedy!

                                                      Eugene P. McNerney

Life Goes On......Or Does It? - and - Gustav Dore's Vision

                                    Gustav Dore's illustration for Dante's Inferno: a scene

                                    of those who are condemned to spend eternity upon

                                     burning sands, being struck by balls of fire

     The news is not good.  The year 2023 is the hottest year in recorded history

and it is probably the hottest year on Earth since before human beings became the

dominant species on the planet, and even farther on back through many thousands 

of years of prehistory.  All across the world, increasing numbers of people are being 

killed by the heat.  The temperature of the ocean water, around southern Florida, 

has risen above the hundred degree mark, killing off the corals which create the reefs, 

which are the breeding grounds and nurseries of ocean life.  And wild fires are raging 

out of control around the globe, while exceptionally violent storms bring death and

destruction beyond anything anyone has experienced before.

     All of these torments are reminiscent of scenes from Dante's Inferno, but this is an

inferno which we have brought upon ourselves, not the tortures imposed on us by

some supreme being.

      This crisis is not unexpected.  The climate scientists and truth tellers have been

warning us for decades, that if we did not strive to reduce the amount of green-house 

gas emissions that we have been pumping into our atmosphere, we were headed for

a drastic change to our global climate.  For a couple of centuries now, we have been 

burning up our fossil fuels as if there is no tomorrow, while at the same time we have 

been cutting down the carbon-dioxide absorbing, rain forests, as if they are a waste 

of space.  Now it appears that there actually may be no tomorrow for us. 

     Our species has had the power to make great changes to our planet, but we have

lacked the intelligence and will, to make these changes wisely, to preserve the health

of the Earth and every living thing in the ecosystem. From President Taft onward until

the present day, we have never had a Republican president who expressed any great 

interest in reducing the environmental impact of the fossil fuels industries, and related

manufacturing.  They have always insisted that the business of America is business, 

and if the environment suffers because of business, cost-cutting greed, then the later 

generations of us will have to deal with that.   Whenever the issue of global warming has 

come up among our Republican leaders, they have ignored the science and declared

that the rising temperature of the Earth is a hoax.  For them, personal profit is more

important than truth.  Chief among these deniers is of course, the liar-in-chief, Donald 

Trump. 

      In our 2020 election,we came close to having someone in power, who would 

help focus government attention on this coming crisis.  Vice President Al Gore was

in the forefront of advocates of clean energy and green energy.  If a full recount of 

the votes in the state of Florida had been carried out he would have become our next

president.  But the Supreme Court didn't allow the recount to go forward; they handed 

the presidency to George Bush, who had no particular goal for the presidency, other 

than a desire to invade and occupy Iraq, and kill the dictator who insulted George's 

daddy.   The result of that was thousands of lives lost and many billions of dollars

of U.S. treasure wasted instead of being spent toward getting us off of fossil fuels 

and getting us focused on green energy.

    Is it too late for us now?  We don't know the answer to that question yet.  Perhaps

we have already passed the tipping point beyond which we cannot stop the escalating 

global warming.   The heat goes on.

                                                    Eugene P. McNerney

 

 

    

Where Are The Snows of Yesteryear? - and - The Gardenia

 

                                                   The Gardenia

                                                   An original drawing on 100% rag Strathmore

                                                   9" X 12", unframed

                                                                                 ( click on image to enlarge )

     Francois Villon's famous line of poetry doesn't have much to do with today's 

posting on the blog, but it speaks eloquently of the cruel and relentless passage 

of time.  This week is one of the sadist weeks of my life: I have lost my one and only 

brother.

     During the midst of the great depression, shortly before world civilization became

swallowed by World War Two, my parent's married and bravely began to raise a family. 

They had two baby boys, separated by just two years.  The first born was named after

his father, and the second was named after his father's brother.  The couple worked hard, 

struggling through financial setbacks and health problems, to raise their boys to a high 

ethical standard.  There were plenty of snows of yesteryear as the boys were growing up, 

with many long, icy walks to school, in those days before busing.  And there were the

the episodes of mumps and measles, chicken pox and whooping cough,  scarlet fever

and broken arms, and all of the other difficulties which threatened children's lives in

those days.  But there were also games and skating, biking and sledding, and annual 

holidays and birthdays marking our growth.   

     The older brother soon began showing a curiosity about how things worked.  

He made kites of unique design and flew them well.  And he made large, model

airplanes, out of nothing but thin strips of balsa-wood and tissue paper, with a

wind-up propeller, and these planes would sometimes fly so high that we could not 

see where they had gone.  Then he would have to depend on the kindness of the 

strangers who found the planes, to call us and return them.   These early interests 

led him naturally toward the fields of engineering and drafting. 

     The younger brother tended to be a bit of a dreamer, who closely observed

the natural world of flora and fauna, and developed a talent for drawing the

things he saw, better than most boys his age.  That was a portent of his life yet

to be.

     So we began life together as a pair of starry-eyed little boys, a pair of traveling

companions, looking out at a world of wonders and surprises.  And he remained

my loyal traveling companion on this long mysterious journey we call life.  He did

not have the title of a nobleman, but he was a nobleman in spirit.  Honest and

trustworthy to all, he was always ready to answer a call for assistance, whatever

the problem might be.  He remained a loving husband and father, and a devoted 

brother, until the very end of his journey.   Now his half of our shared travels is 

finished, so I will have to complete my half of the journey alone.  I will be the 

final repository of our shared memories, of a family which once was; a father 

and a mother, and a brother too, now gone.

                                                    Eugene P. McNerney 11

P.S.    I have been observing the blossoms of a gardenia plant in the garden

this week, as the end drew near for my brother.  There is a kind of reluctance 

about the way the tightly wrapped petals of the buds gradually unfurl, like little 

fingers trying to keep the flower's fragrance from escaping, much the same as 

my reluctance to let go of my brother's loving spirit. 

                                                Thomas T. McNerney Jr.

                                                June 19, 1935  -  June 27, 2023

                                                Rest in peace.

The Cult Of Ignorance - and - Tom Sawyer Was Out In The Rain Last NIght

                                  Tom Sawyer Was Out In The Rain Last Night

                                  An original mixed media painting

                                  9" X 12" unframed

     Those viewers who may be somewhat familiar with this blog,

may have seen this painting previously.  It is one from my series of  book

paintings which I have shown here in the past decade or so.  I chose a 

book painting today as another reminder for everyone to think about all

of our individual rights which are being taken away from us by autocratic

state legislators and governors.  Everything that we do in our own personal

lives, to help us determine our future health and advancement, is under a

constant threat of being taken away from us by the Republican tyrants

who have gained full power in so many of our states.  Perhaps the sadest

part of this new reality, is the fact that we have the Trump Supreme Court

which gives these idiots permission to abuse our personal rights as they like.

     The latest example here in my state is a law which restricts freedom of 

choice in our libraries. The kinds of books libraries can buy and make 

available to readers, are now limited to those which these right-wing politicians 

see as appropriate for their children.  Any one parent has the power to block 

what the children of all the other parents can see and read.  Failure to comply 

with this law results in loss of funding for the library.  

     Libraries have always been the bedrock of American democracy, from

our beginnings.  They were the places where we could go to get the full

information we needed to help us conduct our lives for our own best benefit

and for the best benefit of society in general.  These Republican efforts to stifle

truth and factual information, is a further example of the way they are grooming

this cult of ignorance, to help them stay in power.  I am reminded again of

Socrates famous words that proclaim ignorance to be the world's greatest

evil, and knowledge to be the world's greatest good.  Nothing has changed

in over two thousand years.

    My advice to all readers now, is simple.  When you go to the library, go

directly to those restricted sections, which  contain the books which have 

been given limited access, due to Republican political command.  That is 

the area where you are likely to find some of the best books in the library.

Take those books home and read them.  They will expand your mind and

help you see the world in new colors and whole new dimensions.

     Don't let anyone tell you what you are not allowed to read. It is a 

knowledgeable citizenry which eventually removes tyrants from their 

positions of power.  

                                             Eugene P. McNerney 

We who are about to BUY salute you.

 

                                                             ( detail - Roman gladiator sculpture )

 

     When Roman gladiators entered the Colosseum to entertain the roaring crowds, 

they would address their audience by saying,"We who are about to die salute you!"

In the title of this posting, I have changed one word of that declaration, in order to

create an appropriate greeting for the NFL teams owners to use, when they open their

annual, college, players draft.  The 2023 draft has just wrapped up in Kansas City.  

The acquisition of the new players was a three day spectacle of noisy, frenzied fans,

making themselves look as stupid as possible, in order to demonstrate their 

everlasting loyalty to the surrogate warriors of their tribal cities.  

     Popular entertainments, including ball games, have always been loud, crude

and simpleminded, so it was not unexpected that the three hundred thousand fans

who showed up here, to cheer for their teams, would make quite a show of it. 

At times the draft resembled some kind of a blend of a ritualized slave-auction 

and the presentation of a new crop of Marvel-comics super-heroes.  All of that 

only shows how little we have changed over the past several thousand years and

 more, into history.  The recorded history of ball sports extends back through

countless cultures.  From American-style football games in ancient Greece, to

Harpastum in Rome, to Cuju in Ancient China, to field hockey sports in Medieval 

Europe, ball sports have had  a presence in almost every continent at some time.

No doubt when those athletes of old, finished their games, they had plenty of

avid fans waiting outside the gates to get something in the way of an autograph 

or perhaps something more from their heroes. 

       What the big show of the draft comes down to in the end is money.  Put on

a big enough, glitzy production to create excitement for the fans, and reap the 

rewards of increased profits from the publicity and sales of expensive tickets 

and all of that new NFL team-merchandise.   Are you ready for some football?

                                                        Eugene P. McNerney

        

Murdoch's Monstrous Triumph - and - Owls Taking Flight

 

 

                                                              Owls Taking Flight       

                                                             An original mixed-media painting 

                                                               ( click on image to enlarge )

                                        

     I have not posted this painting on the blog for a decade or so, but I was reminded of it 

because I have been hearing owls calling in the night, and because of recent events in 

the news.   Throughout the history of literature and art, owls have been seen as somehow

wise and able to foresee a troublesome future.  That is a fanciful notion, but about one 

third of American voters seem to be less intelligent, more angry and afraid than the owls.

That mental state is due in large measure to the constant stream of poisons being fed

to them by Rupert Murdoch and his lying team of program hosts at Fox, who play to

to all of the worst fears and hatreds of their followers.   Legitimate news organizations

provide the honest truth about everything that is happening, so that people know the 

facts.  Murdoch gives the people whatever lies will bring him the greatest profit.  

     Now the real news organizations are reporting on the fact that Murdoch has 

paid close to eight hundred million dollars to settle the Dominion lawsuit, just so he

wont have to stand up in court and admit that everything Fox has been telling people 

about stolen elections, is a complete lie.  Fox will never do any kind of on-air report

or admission of guilt or apology for their assault on the belief in our honest and

fair elections, which are the basis of our democracy.  Now Murdoch will be able

to conduct his lying business as usual, after paying some hush-money, much the way

Trump pays hush-money to porn stars.   Murdoch is reportedly worth nearly

eighteen Billion dollars, more money than anyone could ever need, so the pay-off

was a way for him to win again, without costing much serious pain. 

    But there is something that all of those lying Fox program hosts should probably

remember in the future.  Those avid Fox followers out there may not be the most

intelligent birds in the aviary, but most of them probably have guns, because of

all the things you have done to reinforce their fears and hatreds.  So when the 

truth finally begins to filter down to some of them, they may start coming after

you, just the way they stormed the Capitol on January 6th.  Wouldn't that

be a hoot?

                                            Eugene P. McNerney

 

Florida Bans Michelangelo

      The book-banning Floridians are at it again.  They are going to strip (pardon the

expression) Michelangelo's David from their books.  They say that the sculpture is

pornographic!  

     Michelangelo's David is probably the most famous, monumental, stone sculpture

in the world.  That well known image has been featured both inside and on the covers

of countless books and magazines.  Everyone who has seen Michelangelo's amazing

artworks are in awe of his spectacular achievements.  Hundreds of thousands of 

people have stood in line breathlessly awaiting the opportunity to enter the Sistene

Chapel for a few minutes, to gaze upon the wonder of Michelangelo's art.

When they are finally able to go inside and look upward, I can guarantee that none

of them have ever said, "Wow! Porn!". 

     Those Florida nitwits don't know the difference between photos of fine art and

photos of pathetic people having sex for money.  The human figure has been at

the core of artistic expression in Western Civilization since the dawn of history.

From ancient Greece to Rome to the Renaissance and clear up to modern times,

the nude figure has remained a central focus of sculpture and painting.  We are

proud to have these sculptural figures in our parks and on our monuments and

on public buildings.  They are featured in fountains, on hundreds of public 

squares, which people enjoy seeing every day.  Their images are even printed

on the postage stamps of many countries, where the people take pride in their

artistic heritage.  Perhaps some of the Florida numbskulls have received  letters

stamped with one of these little images.  If so, I doubt that the receipt of such

an image has given anyone fits of hysterics. 

     So what is their problem?  Why can't they admire the grace and beauty of

the human form in great art?  The answer seems to be that no matter how

beautiful these images may be, the nude reminds them that they are mammals.

And like the rest of the mammals on the planet, we all reproduce in pretty much

the same way, no matter how much these people try to elevate themselves

 to a higher plane, somehow above all that.  When their children ask them

where babies come from, they probably have difficulty giving them honest,

straightforward answers about human reproduction.  Instead of giving

their children the facts, as it becomes age appropriate, they prefer to remove

great art from books or remove the books completely.  They are the fig-leaf

brigades, busily trying to preserve the purity of their warped little minds. 

                                                        Eugene P. McNerney  

Ukraine's Year In Hell - and - Putin Smiling While Ukraine Burns

                                                          Putin Smiling While Ukraine Burns

                                                          10"  X  8", mixed media

     In May of 2021, I posted a Memorial Day piece, asking the eternal question of when we 

human beings would finally learn to stop making wars and killing each other.  That posting 

included a painting called The Exultant Spartan, showing a warrior who had spent the day 

pillaging a conquered enemy city, and was triumphantly warming himself before the fire, 

as he burned the city to the ground.

     Nine months after I posted that piece, Vladimir Putin sent the full force of the massive

Russian army across the borders into Ukraine, intending to annex the entire country into

Russia, and make all of the Ukrainians submit to Russian rule.  Eight million Ukrainians 

have fled into other European countries, and millions more have been displaced from their

 homes.  Many thousands of men, women and children have been killed or severely 

injured, and nothing remains of many cities and towns but bombed and burned out ruins.  

This was all done to satisfy the bloated ego of one man.

    We are now marking one full year since that invasion began.  Things did not go exactly 

as Putin planned.  The Ukrainians have fought the Russians to a stand-still, but he 

refuses to withdraw, so the daily slaughter continues without let-up.  There doesn't seem 

to be any end in sight.  How many more months, or even years, of misery lie ahead?  

And even if the Ukrainians do eventually manage to push the Russians off of their land, 

there is nothing which can compensate them adequately for all of the misery, pain and 

death which has been inflicted on them.  

     There is an old story which says that Emperor Nero played his fiddle as he was 

watching Rome burn.  The image that congers up, of an extreme sociopath enjoying

a conflagration of total destruction, suggested the above vision of Putin, admiring his

own reflection among the fires of Ukraine...... and smiling!  The only things missing,

 from the image are his devil's horns.

     Many people still hold on to the mythological idea of the existence a humanoid

creature who is the personification of evil, living in some underworld kingdom, and

causing people to do evil things.  But the real devils are the sociopaths among us, 

who think only of themselves, and the ignorant enablers who follow their leader's 

bidding.  It doesn't matter whether it is a Hitler or a Mussolini or a Putin, they all 

take power by pandering to, and promoting the worst instincts of the populous: 

the hatreds, jealousies and fears of anyone they see as somehow different from 

themselves.  After gaining a base of support, the new great leader kills off anyone 

who speaks out against him, and abolishes the free press, replacing all genuine 

information sources with his own propaganda machine. After a few years of 

indoctrination, the tribal instinct takes over, allowing the people to think of 

themselves as somehow correct, if they commit evil acts for the good of their 

nation.

    This has all become a pattern of history which is destined to be repeated

until the end of time, unless we finally manage to properly educate every man

woman and child, replacing our mythologies and tribalism, with the guiding

truths of science and humanism.    Socrates told us where we were going

wrong over two thousand years ago.  He said,"There is only one good,

knowledge, and one evil, ignorance."   That is a statement which we should

be repeating to ourselves on a regular basis.   

                                                 Eugene P. McNerney

Good Thieves, Bad Thieves and Shameless Leeches - and - Horatio's New Role

             

     "Good morrow, noble sir.  How fare thee, in these times of mendacity and deceit?"

     That was the greeting which interrupted my usual morning ruminations, on the blatant 

and total lack of ethical behavior, on the part of our Republican leaders.  My surprise 

visitor, was my little friend, thespian and sometime model, Horatio H. Hamster Esq., 

and he seemed to be reading my mind, as he often does when he pops up so 

unexpectedly. I always enjoy having him stop by to inform me of all of the latest 

happenings, here in our little animal kingdom; he has such an artful way with words. 

 So I greeted him in kind, and thanked him for coming by to see me.

     I couldn't help but notice that he had acquired another new persona, no doubt in 

preparation for a new production at the Quadruped Playhouse, in a role which would

probably supply a new-reveal name for the middle H in his initials.  I complimented him

on his swashbuckling styled, sword and authentic looking, leather hat, and asked him 

what role he might be preparing to perform.  He flourished the sword dramatically, 

and explained that the hat was a hand-made copy of one seen in a Robin Hood movie, 

from the 1930's, because he was going to be playing Robin Hood soon, if things worked

out right at the playhouse.  So, I understood then, that the middle H in his name would be 

standing for Hood,  for a while at least.  

      As I was taking out my sketch book to do a quick drawing of him, I asked if the

personality differences among the membership of the playhouse had improved since

I had last seen him.

     "Alas!," he replied. "All is not well in Nottingham!"

     He went on to say that the deep divide in the company, which had developed when

they voted to oust Vladimir Pig and Donald J. Skunk from membership, was still dividing

the company.

  Some of the members, such as the family of nearly blind and deaf foxes, were 

still insisting that the vote was not counted properly, even though it had been recounted 

several times.  Some others, such as Margerie T. Groundhog and Lauren Badger, were

so committed to the stench of the skunk, they were constantly growling to have his

membership restored.  And worst of all perhaps, was the weasel family.  Kevin McWeasel

in particular, who privately admitted that the skunk was a most repulsively guilty beast, 

but who publicly pretended that the two of them were the best of friends, in order to gain

the directorship of the playhouse.  As the new director, he now has control over what 

new plays are allowed to be performed.

    Horatio said that the situation at the playhouse had gotten so bad that he was

wondering if the company would even survive, and he added that he doubted that 

"a poor, country yeoman from Sherwood Forest", could save them all, from the crooked 

weasel.  And so,the question still remained, as to whether he would have the chance 

to perform his dramatic roll as Robin Hood. 

      As I was finishing my sketch of him, I thanked Horatio Hood for stopping by, and I 

told him that I commiserated with his situation, because it was so eerily familiar with 

what I had been seeing every day on my television.

    As he prepared to depart, Horatio gave another flourish of his sword and a tip of his 

hat, saying, "Fare thee well, noble sir, until we two shall meet again."   And I responded 

in kind, saying, "Fare thee well, prince of thieves.  Do come again soon."

     When he was gone, I was left again to think about the lack of moral fiber in our 

Republican, Speaker Of The House.  It has been revealed that a newly elected member

of the congress by the name of Santos, or Devolder, or some other fictional name, is

 even more of a fraud than Donald Trump, because every single aspect of his life is a lie.

The only difference between them is that this new fraud has admitted to some of his

illegal conduct.  But Kevin McCarthy hasn't called upon the ethics committee to remove 

him from office, because he needs this slime-ball's vote, to help him hold on to his slim 

hold as Speaker Of The House.  

     These people are not statesmen, or even adequate public servants.   

They are nothing but leeches, sucking at the public treasury.

                                                                                        Eugene P. McNerney