Pouring My Art Out

Protesters on their way to oppose a large gathering of Nazi racists in Europe…

Go ahead, Trump, tell us how there are two sides to every situation. How you are sure there were good people and bad people on both sides. How the Nazis were just peacefully gathering in all parts of the continent to demonstrate against the idea that any Jewish people should be allowed to remain alive. Also, I would love to hear you explain how tearing down statues of Hitler is going to lead to Mount Rushmore being blown up.

That moment when Steven Spielberg smiled right at me…

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These are the very last photos from my crazy couple of weeks where I drove 500 miles form San Diego to the San Francisco Bay Area to attend the funeral of the mother of a friend of mine, then drove back to San Diego because I got a ticket to Comic Con…

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Which are insanely hard to get by the way… and then, just days later, I drove back to the Bay Area to see Hamilton… the tickets to which are even harder to get than the Comic Con ones… one week after I saw Steven Spielberg and all the other famous people I mentioned in earlier posts.

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I am really a very lucky man.

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That last photo I took as I walked across a pedestrian bridge. It is of the sun setting over the San Diego convention center and the crazy costumed crowds at Comic Con. I hope you enjoyed all the adventures, the sunsets and sunrises, the rocket boat ride, the San Francisco fog, and all the other stuff. I guess now it is time to let the crack squirrels that live in my head take charge again… before they start chewing on the wires up there.

Things your ancestors will wonder about you, if you are a Trump supporter…

“Why did great-great-great-great Grandpa Cleetus Joe Billy-Bob let the bad man be in charge, Mommy?”, the little ones will wonder, “the bad man who pulled out of the talks to save our planet, and deregulated the corporations and thereby sped up the process of climate change?”

“Because he was short-sighted and not overly-bright,” their mom will try to explain to them, “and he had to cater to his base of coal miners, angry racists, and huge corporation owners, Dear.”

And then, their mother will give them a sip of sea water strained through an old sock, and a few bites of dried plankton, and sing them to sleep while she pilots the raft made of oil drums and plastic bottles on the endless search for dry land… or at least, a part of the ocean that isn’t quite so black with coal sludge, oil, and oil-covered dead fish.