Into The Space [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

There is a space of time between when we script the cartoon and when we write our posts about the cartoon. Sometimes something – some bit of information or an experience – falls into that space and colors what we write.

A mother talking to her small child about school-shooter-drills fell into the space. It invoked a different kind of wistful. I yearn for a time in our nation when the leading cause of death among our children is something other than a bullet.

What else fell into the space? A fractal. Knowing that our pathological-liar-president is surrounded by people who perpetuate his fantasy. He is protected from the messy truth.

But wait! Take a step back. The fox protects millions of the intellectually lazy from the messy truth. It wraps them with a woeful victim tale. They are made angry and violent by the perpetual assault of an illusion. But wait! We are witness to the scrubbing of our history, the erasure of civil rights and DEI, the banning of books, the stripping of exhibits from museums…all to promote a fantasy-tale of the USA, all to protect us from the messy truth of our nation.

It’s not the first time in our nation’s short history that we-the-people have been protected from seeing the full story of our nation. We are – and have been – surrounded by a fantasy-crap-tale: it’s called manifest destiny. White-people-good; white-males-especially.

Am I feeling the fall-wistfuls yet? No. I am just incredibly sad. Today I am witness to a mother teaching her bright inquisitive child to crouch in a dark corner and try to disappear. Today I am witness to the power players of my nation protect pedophiles instead of the children they raped. They are drilling us to crouch in dark corner. They are normalizing us to the necessity of disappearing.

I yearn for a time that has not yet happened in our history: a time when we are unafraid to look in the mirror and see the whole picture, all of it; the good, the bad, the ugly. I yearn for a time when we are capable of dealing with our truth rather than whipping up fantasies.

Maybe then we will summon the capacity to protect our children from real bullets rather than perpetuating the fantasy that gun control is an infringement upon cowboy culture. Or, to pull the mask off completely: maybe we will prioritize the safety of our children above the profits of weapons manufacturers; maybe we will prioritize the rights and safety of all people above protecting the irresponsibility, the outrages of the privileged few.

Maybe. I’m capable of wrapping myself in a protective feel-good fantasy, too. I come by it naturally. I am, after all, a citizen of the USA.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WISTFUL

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Make Belief [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“People must surely be afraid, without knowing it, that their hold upon reason and sanity is precarious, else they would not so resent being asked to look at visual experience in a new way, they would not be so afraid of not seeing the world as they have always seen it and in the general publicly agreed way of seeing it.” Joanna Field (Marion Milner), On Not Being Able To Paint

We saw the little green men at an antique fair. They come in peace. I wondered so asked the Oracle Google why aliens – peaceful or not – are always depicted as green. The AI master responded:

“Green has been associated with aliens in folklore and mythology for centuries…” Forest creatures, fairies and sprites. Leprechauns…

“The term “little green men” gained popularity in the 1950s, coinciding with reports of flying saucers. This imagery was further popularized by movies and other media.” 

“In summary, the “green alien” trope is a creative and cultural construct rather than a scientific expectation. It reflects how we use our understanding of life on Earth to imagine possibilities on other planets.”

A cultural construct. Imagining the possibilities of life on other planets has brought us to the common agreement that green is the color of aliens.

The term “common sense” refers to practical, sound judgment. In practice, however, common sense need not make sense at all. Common sense is not so much about feasibility as it is about group agreement. It is “common” sense, meaning that it is consensus. It need not be factual or practical.

When faced with overwhelming evidence that the earth is round, there are people on this round earth who adamantly insist that the earth is flat. They claim that it is common sense; one need only look at a flat horizon.

Similarly, conspiracy theories are rooted in “common” sense. Mob mentality is not rooted in reason. Lemmings regularly run over cliffs.

Common sense is not necessarily a representative of truth. Common sense need not be rooted in fact. Common sense is just as easily an agreement built on fiction or fantasy. MAGA is an example: a group awash in an agreement of a reality that is sourced in make-believe. Make-believe: make-it-up-to-create-Belief.

Make-Belief. It is the fox’s game. Is there really any sense to be made from an orange man in a blue suit spewing balderdash? Common or not? Simple minds united under red hats of outrage? Do little green men really arrive in saucers that fly? No sense required; only group agreement awash in nonsense. Like the Republican Congress. Common.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ALIENS

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An Outrageous Fantasy [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

To fuel our escape fantasy of a thru-hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, we periodically wander around REI and fake-shop for backpacks and sleeping bags. We test shoes and ask questions about sun shirts. We scrutinize hiker stoves and sporks and water filtration options. We discuss the merits of tents. And, since we have no actual knowledge about any of it, we laugh at our made-up opinions. We delight in pretending.

I’m updating one of my favorite Horatio observations. He’s said (and I’ve oft-quoted) that the tension in these un-United States is between those who espouse an “every man for himself” philosophy and those who maintain that “I am my brother’s/sister’s keeper”. My update? The every-man-for himself crowd is actually, more accurately, believers that some-people-are-better-than-others. The tension as revealed in our present day is between those who believe in equality and those who do not. We are witness to the struggle between those who think government should work for everyone (brother’s/sister’s keeper) and those who believe government need work only for the superior few.

Consider the full-court-press now underway to demonize and eliminate DEI and the lifting of federal building bans on segregation. Consider the inundation of legislation aimed at inhibiting a woman’s right to vote. Witness the explicit dismantling of social programs and the social safety net in order to provide massive tax cuts to the wealthiest citizens. The whitewashing of history. The ugly and empty rhetoric about restoring “merit-based” hiring, implying that all people of color, all women, advance and have advanced not because of their skill or talent but because of their skin color or gender. In other words, an agenda firmly rooted in advancing the mythos of white male superiority.

The privileged few pushing down the many in order to elevate themselves. It’s Ayn Randian nonsense. Pushing others down is the first action of a drowning man. It’s an arrogant fantasy, laughable, like trickle-down-economics, shackling the majority to uplift the make-believe-white-superiority of the corrupt few. My long-ago colleague, Ana, called it “vampiring”.

It’s white fragility.

At REI we inevitably wander over to the section beneath the corrugated sign, “EAT”. We discuss eating dehydrated meals. Eventually we conclude that on the trail we’ll require a chef to drone in our meals each day. A basket will arrive in the morning with baked goods, scrambled eggs, and hot coffee. There will also be a sack lunch in the morning delivery. It would be too much to ask the chef to make three deliveries a day. At night, a hot meal arrives – with wine, of course – since the chef can accurately track our location.

We laugh at our outrageous fantasy since we know it is an outrageous fantasy.

We wonder why the red-hat crowd remains blind to their outrageous maga-fantasy. They’re laughing as their heads are being systemically – and obviously – pushed beneath the water by an oligarch and a weak flim-flam-man. Vampires, both. How long before the red-hat-crowd realize that they are being sucked dry, that their outrageous fantasy is not laughable, that the not-so-funny joke is on them, too?

read Kerri’s blogpost about EAT

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Face It [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Reality is one of the possibilities I cannot afford to ignore.” ~ Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers

Given the collapsing farm markets with the annihilation of USAID, tariffs imposed on our allies, with Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security in the DOGE crosshairs, the dedication of tax dollars to prop up crypto-currency, the Department of Education on the chopping block…the folks in my bubble ask this question each and every day: “How bad does it have to get before they realize they’ve been had?”

I, myself, have often asked this question. Today, on our trail, as we watched the sun struggle to burn through the clouds, I came to a blindingly obvious realization: consistently discarding reality is the single requirement necessary to support the despot-wannabe. Consider all that had to be ignored: rapist, felon, insurrectionist, an estimated 461,000 excess deaths from a bumbling response to the pandemic, pathological liar, twice impeached, rated among the worst presidents in our history…This is a short list of a very long, long catalogue of reality-to-disregard. In other words, the red-hats will never realize that they’ve been had because they would rather swallow a fire hose of “alternative facts” than plug into substantive reality.

I understand the desire, the hope that our family members and fox-hypnotized community members will reclaim their capacity to discern fact from fantasy but I am now convinced that we should stop waiting or hoping or investing any energy in trying to reach them. We need to stop ignoring the reality that they have no interest in fact or data or verifiable truth. They simply do not care. They simply do not want to care. To borrow a phrase from Stephen Colbert, they are so far down the “stupid hole” that no amount of rope will reach them.

We should also stop waiting for members of the Republican party to honor their oath to the Constitution. They, too, are engaged in a fantasy world of “hear no evil, see no evil.” They are studied apologists for every outrage. If rape was not a bridge-too-far, if colluding with Russia is not a deal-breaker, if the tyrannical boast about “getting things done” without the participation of Congress doesn’t set off every constitutional alarm bell in their caucus, then there is no desecration that they will not swallow, excuse or justify.

A few nights ago, in commencing his tariffs on our allies, a move that will further wreck the farm economy and our alliances, the tawny tyrant tweeted for farmers to “Have fun.”

“Of course he wrote that,” I thought. Amidst all the fun that farmers are about to have, I am certain of one reality: when they lose their farms they’ll blame Biden or Obama or the woke or the Democrats or DEI for their pain because they’ll never turn away from the fox-cult and face the fact that they’ve been had.

“Been had” is an informal idiom that means to be tricked, cheated, or deceived by someone.

reality (noun): the world or the state of things as they actually exist.

Taking Stock on the album Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

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A New Day [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A new day.

Sometimes it takes a storm blowing through to make you realize what has value and what does not. The tornado takes the house, scatters the possessions, but the family is safe. No one is harmed. The wind takes the clutter and leaves a certain clarity.

I once knew an accomplished artist who lost his life’s work in a house fire. What I assumed would be tragic, for him was an opportunity: “I’m alive,” he said, elated. “Now I have a completely clean slate and can discover my work all over again.”

The storm comes. The veil falls. The Great and Powerful Oz is nothing more than a man with levers and illusions of grandeur hiding his real face behind a curtain. Dorothy suddenly knows without doubt what is true and what is fabrication. It’s quietly liberating.

She watches The Great and Powerful drift away in his hot air balloon and clumsy illusion. Dorothy realizes that no one can give her what she already possesses, an integrity of purpose, a vibrant spirit, surrounded by honest people who love her in a place she calls “home.”

A new day.

Nap with DogDog & BabyCat, 36″x48″, mixed media

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Ding! [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Inspiration rarely looks like we think it ought to look. It rarely comes from the direction we expect. This little bell throws Kerri into advanced fantasies about her “store.” Her imagination is unbridled; her internal space is large enough to hold more than one store. For instance, she has visions of a food truck called And Sauce. Hungry people come to the window and order her special pasta sauce on a variety of delivery options. There are many variations of craft and clothing shops, art stores, there is a series of online products that follow The Little Pillow world-wide explosion. This composer, singer-songwriter has a heart for retail. It’s why she owns her own label and mourns the onset of the age of streaming: selling CD’s was too much fun.

The little bell also makes an appearance (in her mind) each time she sells something unearthed from the basement. “Ding!” she sings with excitement, when the folding screen or the bag of books find a new home. Sometimes, as we sort through the next layer of stuff in the basement, I hear her sing, “Ding!” Another sale made in her mind.

To be clear, we do not own the bell. We saw it one day in an antique store. “I have to take a picture!” she said. “To remember.” It’s among the many lovely quirks that she developed through her life as an artist. Wanting does not necessarily mean possessing. When we first met, showing me a magazine of women’s clothing, she explained, “If I stare at the picture long enough I don’t need to have it.” The yearning is satisfied by the yearning, not the having.

And, the yearning inspires new ideas, clever combinations of what’s already in her closet. This little bell works on the same principle. Retail mania in many configurations rolls out of her yearning for the bell. You’d be amazed at all the clever combinations on the menu of And Sauce. You’d be be delighted – as I am – with the joy-feels that ripple across the house every time the sing-song imaginary bell rings. “Ding!”

Another sale.

Unfolding/As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s music is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

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See Like Seuss [David’s blog on KS Friday]

If you’ve ever pondered where Dr. Seuss got his idea for the fabulous hairstyles on many of his characters, look no further than the dried flowers in the field. Thing One and Thing Two wave to us as we walk by. The Grinch wrinkles his nose and grins.

Of course, I made that up. I have no idea where the good doctor found his inspiration. It’s a good bet that he, like most creators of characters, found a visual spark from the crazy shapes and wild styles in nature. I look at the zany filaments of this yellowing pod and see a cartoon henchman, narrowing eyes beneath a spiky do. Of course, my henchman, like all good cartoon thugs, has no real power. He likes to think he can intimidate, an omega with alpha delusions. It’s what makes him lovable. I’ll name him Thistle.

I personify everything. Projecting my human-ness on everything is a quality that identifies me as uniquely human. We see angry volcanoes. Trees that talk. Cartoons animals are a festival of personification. Wily Coyote. Humorless gods in the sky. A cat in a hat. Mother Earth.

We are a miracle of creativity, whether we recognize it or not. Projecting ourselves, infusing our fears and fantasies, the sacred and profane, on every mountain, rock and weed. Even on other people. What we see is…what we see. A creative lens. Is it any wonder we’ve filled volume after volume seeking but never finding truth? Agreement is the best we can do.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I just saw a fox in socks…

transience/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THISTLE

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Aim The Magic Lens [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“That men do not learn the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons of history.” ~Aldous Huxley

You may be as amazed as I to learn that Dogwood is not Doll’s Eye. They have a similar creepy Seussian stare but are not kin. In this brave new world, all we need do is aim Google Lens at the question, “What is that?” and, voila! An answer!

I delight that I am living in the time of easy access to information. I could not write as I do without instant access to synonym and antonym, the lighting fast check-of-fact or spelling, the interesting variations-on-a-theme that pop up the minute I jump down a thought-rabbit-hole. Technology has made it possible for me to be a writer. Were I confined to pen and paper my output would be minimal and certainly impossible to read.

Easy information means easy misinformation. It means easy mass-misinformation. If I were the wizard of the universe I’d provide everyone with a Google Lens for information. All we’d need do is aim our magic lens at a pundit, news-bit or politician and, voila!” Accurate or Absurd or somewhere in between! It would make it fairly impossible to toss a lie into the commons and get away with it.

It’s not that I am enamored of just-the-facts. I’m not. I write stories so I prize a good dose of imagination. But in our time, knowing the difference – or caring about the difference – between fact and fantasy – is tantamount.

One of the great challenges of our brave new world is the intentional passing of fantasy for fact. For instance, Florida. If you are a student of history you’ll recognize in Florida (and, now, sadly, other states) the resurrection of the Lost Cause narrative, a history bending education initiative driven hard by the Daughters of the Confederacy at the conclusion of the Civil War. White supremacy sweeping its dark-side under the rug. Lipstick on a history pig.

I’m capable of imagining that my magic Google Info-Lens would put a stop to the cycle of non-sense but it’s starting to dawn on me that Aldous Huxley had it right: at this moment in history, we have the capacity to check every story, to look up every assertion, to scrutinize every source. It may not be as lightning fast as my imagined Lens but it’s close. We simply choose not to use it. It’s so much easier to believe without question than it is to question a belief.

“Huxley feared the truth would be drown in a sea of irrelevance.” Well.

Today on the trail I learned in a nanosecond that a Dogwood is different from a Doll’s Eye. I know it is possible to assert that slavery was on-the-job-training but it takes a dedicated-head-in-the-sand – and a heart full of ugly intention- to drown the truth of history in a sea of utter non-sense.

No lessons learned. No questions asked. Oops. Here we go again.

I Will Hold You (Forever and Ever)/And Goodnight, a lullaby album © 2005 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about Dogwood

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