When you’re a frog and a theoretical cosmologist, catching flies becomes an exercise in exploiting space-time curvature!
Category: Pleasures
I had plans for this potato. Now all I have is the certificate of authenticity.
45 years ago, at the Phoenix premier of “Life of Brian” some protesters tried in vain to turn us away. I still have their flier.
Just an innocent sketch of an alien creature, forced after-the-fact and against its will into a political allegory.
I drew a bespoke cute, big-eyed, rabbit holding a carrot for my daughter, only for her to change her mind midway.
Even if it’s Joe Biden’s brain kept alive in a jar, I will support the Democratic candidate for President. That is preferable to Emperor Trump.
I drew the snail, and then the snail drew me – into my persistent worries about right-wing extremists who want to ban books, and more.
“Higher-order mentalizing” began with a ghost and ended with a fly – neglecting the hypothetical desires of a poop.
My marginal doodles, animated by AI: A pissed-off bear, a three-eyed bon vivant, an angry schmo, a streaker.
With my new colored pencils, I rediscovered the feeling of sorcery, remembering that we see with our brains, not with our eyes.