Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for August, 2017

From: The Art of Quotation

“It has been shown as proof positive that carefully prepared chocolate is as healthful a food as it is pleasant; that it is nourishing and easily digested… that it is above all helpful to people who must do a great deal of mental work.” Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, French, lawyer, political figure, epicure, gastronome

via “proof positive… chocolate… is above all helpful to people who must do a great deal of mental work.” — Art of Quotation

Lunar view…from: Astronomy Picture of the Day

Lunar View, Solar Eclipse

Truth…but when has truth for women actually mattered in a patriarchal society…if you said never…you’re right.


Street art…



“I know we shouldn’t have stopped for ice cream,” groaned Shane.  “But Billy loved it and you had a hot fudge sundae, so stop complaining.”

“The fries were good,” grumbled Louise.  “But we need to get to…

Billy stopped walking and started growling, which quickly turned into a snarl, as he took off down a dark alley.

“I HATE dark alleys,” she said, running after him.

The growling stopped and so did Louise and Shane.  They both started to control their breathing so they could listen.  They heard Billy whimper, then there was nothing.  They ran toward the dog and saw him laying on his back while the demon rubbed his tummy.  The demon looked up and made a terrified noise.  Billy rolled to his feet and stood in front of the demon.

“He’s a baby,” said Shane.

“He’s afraid and lost,” said Louise.

“Woof,” said Billy, who then took the demon’s wrist in his mouth and walked him over to Louise.

“Thanks Billy,” she said staring at the demon.  “What’s your name?”

The demon started shaking but stopped once Billy leaned against him.

“Now what?” asked Shane.

“We can’t kill him, he’s a child,” whispered Louise.

“He will grow up, eventually.”

“But Billy likes him and he’s a Devil Dog with superior insight into good and evil.”

“You’re going to take him home, aren’t you,” said Shane, already knowing the answer.

“I guess,” said Louise, holding out her hand. “What else can I do?”

The demon shrank back in fear.  Billy moved forward and licked Louise’s outstretched hand.  “It’s okay,” said Louise, softly.  “I can help you.”

Eventually the demon moved forward and Louise touched his wrist.  “No one is going to hurt you.”

Meanwhile Shane heard footsteps down the alley, popped on her silencer and said, “Be back in a sec.”

The demon, who was a dark shade of midnight blue, looked at Louise through large, pitch black eyes. He stood about six three, was powerfully built, with big hands and feet.  “You’ll grow into yourself, so no worries,” she said,   “Billy was a tiny thing, with big paws and look at him now.  The demon looked at the dog.

Billy smiled and sneezed.  The demon laughed.

“You two ready to go?”

They both nodded and started walking.

“Is he dead?” asked Louise, once they found Shane and saw the body at her feet.

“He’s not breathing, if that’s what you mean.”

“I didn’t hear a shot.”

“New silencer.  I designed it and Joey made it.”

“What’s his deal?” asked Louise, looking at a man in his early sixties, with thin brown hair, wide hands with stubby fingers. His eyes were brown and he had wrinkles everywhere but around his eyes.  “I don’t think this guy had a good sense of humor.”

“He offered me money for the demon.  I said no, he’s just a kid.  He said he couldn’t care less how old he was and to get out of his way, or he’d make me get out of his way.  I told him to back off and he pulled a gun, so I discharged my pistol and he fell on the bullet.”

“You could have just hit him a couple of times and tied him up,” said Louise.

Shane, nodded.  “I could have, but eventually he would wake up and come after the kid again.”

“Good point,” said Louise, staring at the demon who was facing the wall.  Billy was leaning against him again.   “He has issues,” muttered Louise.  “He doesn’t seem to like violence.”

“I can see that, Sherlock,” sighed Shane.

“You need help with the body?”

“No.  Take them home. I’ll get there when I can.”

“You sure?” said Louise.

“Just go.”



Pink rose…

Jenny Smith…Short story about bullies

Jenny was an average person.   She had friends, played baseball, loved her cat, did her homework, at least most of the time, and sat at any lunch table she liked.  She minded her own business and only gave her opinion when she was asked for it.

One day, when she was coming out of the locker room later than every one else, she saw Owen Jacobs being thrown against the lockers and menaced by four boys from her English class.  Owen stood there and watched them tear up his notes, kick his books across the floor and spit on his shirt.  He didn’t try to defend himself, he just stood there, looking down, trying to be invisible.

Jenny sighed, put her backpack on the floor and ran to his aid.

“You…know,” she said, as she punched and kicked the boys, “I…was…going…to…try…and…talk…”

She hit the floor, got up and jumped on James McAvoy’s back.  “to…you guys but I thought…you might be too…stupid…to understand what I was…saying,” she said, as she was grabbed from behind.  She threw her head back and heard a lovely crunching sound, followed by a scream. “I don’t believe in violence,” she grunted, “but you guys, well, Karma is a bitch.”

“He’s not even helping you,” yelled Allen, pointing at Owen.  “Why are you fighting with us?”

“Because you’re mean and there are four of you,” she said, getting up and wiping the blood off her lip with her sleeve.  “And one of him.”

“What’s it to you, anyway?” asked Kenny.

“Okay, wait a minute,” said Jenny, holding up her hands.  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to not walk away from something that’s obviously…WRONG!”

One of the guys shoved her hard and she flew into the lockers, the handle smashed into her back and she fell to the floor.  “It’s none of your business,” said Allen.

Jenny grabbed him by the ankle and dug her nails into his calf as hard as she could.”

He yelled, fell, and kicked at her but she was already on her feet.

By now kids were gathering around them.  Everyone knew the four boys were nasty and mean.  When they saw Jenny, ripped up and bleeding but on her feet and swinging, they were shocked. One by one they dropped their belongings on the floor and went to stand beside her.  One by one quickly added up to fifteen and that was fourteen too many for the bullies.  They backed off, but not before Kenny pointed at Jenny and said, “You’re dead.”

“Bite me,” said Jenny, as she watched them walk away.  “Chickens!” she yelled, flapping her arms. Then she turned to the others and said, “Thank you.  I want to start an anti-bullying club, right now. We can set up our phones to alert everyone when one of us sees someone in trouble. Just message the location and all of us will to go to that spot immediately. Leave classrooms, get out of the pool, do whatever it takes, but get there as fast as you can because I’m sick of nothing ever being done to stop bullies.”

“You’re bleeding,” said Mike.

“So what?”

“I’m just saying.  And I think you’re going to have a black eye.”

“It won’t be my first one.”

“I’m sure it won’t be,” he chuckled.  “Sign me up.  I’ll show every time.”

“Thanks,” she said, trying to stop her nosebleed.

“Here,” he said, handing her his t-shirt.  “Compress.”

Jenny nodded and pressed the shirt to her nose and lip. It smelled like football.

Carol started a sign up sheet and kids were forming a loose line, so they could put down their names and phone numbers.

“The teachers and administration aren’t doing anything to stop them,” said Jenny, “So it’s up to us to protect our school and the kids who go here.  If we don’t protect each other, this will never stop.”  Everyone nodded and Kate handed Jenny an ice pack for her eye.  “We need to work together, no matter what.  We might have to walk some kids home and pick them up in the morning but we have to stop the bullies.”

“Jenny,” said Mike.  “I think I’m crazy about you.”

Everyone laughed, as they started to disperse.

“I can’t stand by and let things like this continue,” she muttered.

“I agree,” he said.  “I think the club will be a great success.”

“Do you know that those four have been taking the lunches and money from about twenty kids every day?”

“I didn’t.”

“Um, Jenny,” said Owen, softly.  “Th-thank you.  I’m sorry I just stood there.”

“It’s okay Owen,” said Jenny, putting her bloody hand on his arm.

“Can I join the club?”

“Hey, you can be president,” she said.  “I know what kind of grades you get,” she snickered.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” said Owen, his voice trembling.

“I’m sorry it took so long to stop this.”

Owen nodded.  “You were brave.”

“I wasn’t,” said Jenny.  “I was mad.  There’s a big difference.”

Kate walk toward Jenny and handed her a piece of torn paper.  “First meeting is tomorrow after school at my house.”

“Thank you,” said Jenny.

“I’ll be there,” said Mike.

“Me too,” said Owen, shyly.


And that’s how the kids in Clover High School stopped the bullies.  They worked together and fought back.  Every time an alert went off they rushed to the aid of a student.  They circled the bullies and immediately moved to stand between them and the person being attacked.  Before long, the only kids not in the club were the bullies themselves.

Because sometimes adults don’t do what needs to be done to stop bad things from happening to kids.  Sometimes the kids just have to stand up and defend themselves.





From: streetart360

Hi My Dog Sighs, it’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’ve always been fascinated by your “Eyes” murals, your “naive” little characters that can also be giants sometimes. As well as the reason for your painted tiny cans, i would like to ask a bit more who is the artist with such a strange […]

via Interview with My Dog Sighs — Best of Street Art and Graffiti – streetart360


Mail art…

Why should anyone have to ASK for freedom (which automatically means that others CONTROL WHO IS ALLOWED TO HAVE IT) in a country that calls itself a free country? Women were locked up, force fed, chained to cell doors, refused medical treatment, all because they wanted to be able to vote. But they did it and they kept doing it and they suffered and we should never forget these brave and fantastic women because AMERICA only gives freedom to those who are rich, white, males. It’s always been that way and it’s that way today and everyone else is still being tortured because they want to be free. This photograph is from 1917 and as long as patriarchy exists…it will never end.


Anyone our government doesn’t like is considered to be a criminal.  American terrorists, include any and all who stand up for themselves, or protest what the government is doing.

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