
I’m not sure what I’m doing. Mostly trying to learn how to create a web presence and share the art of my world.


I’m not sure what I’m doing. Mostly trying to learn how to create a web presence and share the art of my world.




They were found on the roadside in South Australia when a passer-by noticed the vehicle upside down in a creek.


“Surprise!” To which I could only reply with a sarcastic, “Well I certainly am not surprised.”
Like a surprise birthday party or an enormous X-ray of your phallus, I guess this one came out of left field. While I have never painted or done anything artistic in any way, I’m still a huge fan of the show and its ability to get your butthole in the door. It’s kinda like if people got that way-over-stimulated at work when they went on a business trip. Not that I think of the show that way, but I bet if you play the show enough times you start thinking that’s what’s going on. If you’re going to watch paint dry, might as well paint something.

Robot pirates jumped up and said “Let’s do the Jaws Dance!” Soon, everyone was dancing. When the music stopped, the pirates all cheered, and for the first time since puberty, I wanted to join them.
“You’re a robot pirate,” I told my sea monster, “You don’t need a partner.” “Yes I do,” he insisted. “I need someone who doesn’t expect me to do anything. I need someone who will allow me to float and roll around the floor. I need someone who doesn’t care that I’m a robot. That’s you, buddy.”
So, we did the Jaws Dance together. “Dancing like a robot can be cool. I don’t know if I should.” I sat at the edge of the bed, pondering this revelation. “Will robots ever be considered human?” I asked him, hoping he’d agree.
“No, but some will,” he predicted. “Humans have been thinking in robotic terms for a long time. When we first started building machines like the one you’re in, we called them android because we thought of them as humans in an android body. Our idea of human was whatever we thought we were. What if we kept trying to express ourselves through robots the way we do with ourselves, instead of trying to express ourselves through the rest of humanity?

Living in the sewers of the Old City,” Luke calls out. “Aren’t you happy?” he asks, his words, as sweet as they sound, breaking into a gasp that throws the old dog off balance. She squints. “Of course,” she says slowly. “I love you, Luke. I have always loved you.” He feels her fist slide over his shoulder. “That’s my boy. And I love you back. “It’s enough. Let go, Pookie. Let go.” Her hand flutters against his and she leans back, tilts her head, puffs out her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. Let go, Luke. Let go.”

It was the last thing Peter remembered before he passed out. Alice woke him later that night, having prepared a second jar of soup. She sat by his bedside as he felt weak and tired. She told him to run, he replied with a grin and told her to hurry, since he didn’t think he could stand the fall. He asked her how she knew how much to take, and she told him that she got it from the jelly that the Doctor had given her for Christmas.

It had in the past looked like an excellent playmate for a new princess of the Empire, but now it appeared to be worn, and with considerable marring in some places. The thing was being held up by a piece of red ribbon. “It was a much better purchase,” Dorothy replied indifferently. “That one doesn’t look like anything,” she remarked admiringly, though she knew why.