Want to buy some of my designs? There’s RedBubble: Witchipoo
Finally, don’t forget to purchase my latest comic:
*To order any Psycho Bunny issues, or The Temptation of Squeaky, send $4.00 per issue along with your shipping address to Vemno @ Witchipoo. You can also order via PayPal, firstname.lastname@example.org. Specify which issue you’re ordering. Currently in stock is Psycho Bunny issue 3.75 and Temptation of Squeaky issue one.
Another decade is about to wrap up. Lately I’ve been reminiscing about the oddest things. These memories are usually induced by something completely random. As with the case prior to this post. Tonight I wasn’t in the mood to go out. As I’m scrolling through Facebook, somebody on my feed posts an sex article. It was published on the Vice website. The content was really about why people get attached to someone after sexual relations. Particularly to those not normally considered. I read the entire article. What caught my attention was certain hormones released during mating, male v. female. As the rest of the article went on, I was reminded of an incident during the ’90s.
Around mid-’90’s, I worked six months at some fetish/sex shop. It was located in the West Village. When applying, I was informed that out of all the applicants, I gave the impression of being a sane person. All the others who applied seemed unbalanced. My mental stability got me hired. I took the job because it meant no dress code. I didn’t have to take out my nose ring, continue dying my hair that shade of Manic Panic Vampire Red, etc. Perfect for me! That’s all I cared about. So much for priorities. The pay was shit, off the books, and the hours long. I could, however, play whatever music I liked. My selections ranged from RuPaul to My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult. Got a crash course about fetishes 101. After that gig ended, I had knowledge about dark human sexuality.
One night, a friend dropped by my store. For her, the party never ended. She was always looking for an excuse to hang out at places like Coney Island High. In hindsight, we both may have graduated high school, but we still had that mentality. Eternal teenagers. We might as well been like Dante and Randal from Clerks. Anyway. She came by after she was finished her shift working at some vintage clothing store. Tagging with along was her co-worker. He was a generic ’90s sub-cultural male. The guy quietly observed his surroundings. Fetish wear, BDSM outfits, whips, floggers, bondage items, and trashy lingerie was sold in the front of the store. Sex toys and porn was displayed in the back.
As both the friend and her co-worker walked in, the store was unpacking newly arrived merchandise. I was in the back, nonchalantly arranging the latest products as if they were grocery items. Three months into this job, and comfortably numb. While the boxes were being unpacked, I picked up one of the new items. It was one of those weird pheromone colognes. The sample bottle was placed on the counter along with assorted vibrators, lubes, and penis pumps. My friend and I look at the cologne bottle. The cologne looked cheap. The owner was hardly around. There were no customers in the store. This being the ’90s, we weren’t constantly video monitored. It was safe for me to loudly mock the product. My friend makes some kind of sarcastic quip. I think my friend’s co-worker might have also made a snarky comment. As a joke, I sprayed the cologne all over the back room. Whoa – it totally stunk! We started laughing, cause we were that immature. After the initial gagging wore off, it was time to close up for the night. When the shop gate was pulled down, all three of us head over to the East Village to hang. As we usually did.
That night was nothing new. There might have been a party at the Flamingo East. Along the way, my friend and her co-worker started to get chummier. A few hours in, those two, who never had romantic intentions, mysteriously started to make out. I was used to my friend’s romantic shenanigans. Every week there was a new hookup. I was apathetic to her conquests. Just like how I was detached selling butt plugs.
At one point, my friend’s co-worker mentioned that pheromone cologne back at my job. He wondered loudly if the cologne had something to do with the impromptu tongue dance. They went back to smooching. It didn’t get any further than that.
The next day the friend’s coworker had second thoughts. He more or less disappeared.
In recent years, millennials have given this practice a name. It’s now known as “ghosting.”
My friend also blamed the previous night on that cheap cologne. It’ll get you laid, but it won’t make the person stay.
Taking note, I stayed away from the cologne itself. While the product did sell, it also stunk. The store re-ordered poppers, the Sta-Hard creams and Anal-Ease, but not the cologne.
Hit the fast forward button to 2019. Curiosity getting the best of me, I decided to look up pheromone colognes. Just to see if they were still on the market. Well hot dang. Pheromone products are more popular than ever. It’s an advertised ingredient in many items. There’s fragrances marketed for men and women. Even Dial got in on the act. They have a men’s pheromone infused body wash. If I was a guy, I would be buying cases of this stuff.
.But then I saw this. For those who are fans of the film Anchorman. Sex Panther cologne. ‘Cause 60% of the time it works. Every time. And it stings the nostrils.
Where am I going with this post? I don’t even know myself. Memories are dangerous.
One of these days I’ll unwind more tales about my sex shop gig. Out of respect, I won’t reveal the name of the famous Broadway actress who I sold anal beads to. I will tell you of the time a customer raged into the store with a penis pump he brought the night before. How he managed to burn the inside of the pump from fire engine red to pitch black – and how he demanded a refund. I’ll hold off for another time.
Below is a sketch done just for this blog post. Enjoy.
Just like what the title suggests. I’ve posted some episodes from the past season from my radio show. The show was originally streamed live on WHCSradio.org. The program is in hiatus now.
Not all the episodes were posted for one simple reason: I ran out of space on Soundcloud. Yeah, I know, it sucks. The entire season will be uploaded onto another site. In case you’re curious, here’s a few to quell your interest.
While I was doing this show, I discovered a brave new world called podcasting. What sealed it was when I went to Cambridge, MA for MICE 2019. Next door to MICE was another convention called Podtails. It was the first ever Podtail con. This peaked my interest.
As I’ve said before, not all the interviews were posted. I have very short interviews with Diane Noomin, Jamie Hernandez, and a few others. You guessed it, stay tuned for further details.
Doing a radio show was a learning process. Looking back, I was doing it at a breakneck pace, cramming into my already busy schedule. I suspect there were times I sounded tired. Could’ve used a good sleep. Yet I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. The pros outweighed the cons. So if I put together season two, now I know what to do.
More information about RTU: The Ridgewood Tenants Union (RTU) was founded in 2014 and is an all-volunteer, tenant-led and independent anti-gentrification group whose mission is to grow the power of tenants in Ridgewood to collectively fight displacement. We work towards our mission by door-knocking to inform tenants about their rights, holding monthly tenant assemblies, organizing tenant associations, holding know-your-rights trainings, creating neighborhood-wide campaigns, and working in coalition with other housing groups in NYC. One of our current campaigns involves building up opposition against Avery Hall Investments’ proposed 24-story luxury tower at 1590 Gates Ave, the site of our community’s Food Bazar Supermarket. This luxury tower will further increase rents in a neighborhood where so many of our neighbors are already rent burdened.
That illustration I did of that damned Art Basel Miami banana will be part of the exhibit. When so many people are starving, some art collector brought a banana duct taped to a wall for $120,000. However, in a case of turning lemons into lemonade, I’m glad my work can go for a cause I fully believe in. My framed print will be available for purchase. The best part is you don’t have to worry about being upstaged by a “hungry artist.”
I’ve slacked in the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week department. So he makes his return once again. This time with Baby Yoda. He’s trying to tempt Baby Yoda with something. Looks like Yoda Jr. isn’t interested.
Haven’t watched any episodes of The Mandalorian. That’s because my household doesn’t have Disney+. Baby Yoda is a cutie though. This was sketched rather quickly.
Not to be outdone, another artist stepped up, took the banana off the wall, and ate it. The crowd snapped away with their cell phones, while four police officers were brought in for crowd control.
It’s 2019. You can’t make this up.
So as Art Basel Miami wrapped up, I decided to do my own rendition. Pen, ink, and digitally colored. Hand drawn in lovely Queens, NY. Which probably took more effort than the act of taping the banana to the booth wall over in Miami.
I’ve titled this piece “$120,000 Banana (Don’t Hate The Playa, Hate The Game!). Because that’s what the fine art world is all about. A game. As soon I read about everyone going bananas in Miami, that old street slang came to mind: “Don’t hate the playa, hate the game!” Exactly what my friend used to shout obnoxiously into my answering machine back in the late ’90s.
I probably would’ve been slightly amused maybe around five years ago. In the age of economic inequality, this comes off as a bad joke. When David Datuna causally strolled over to chomp on the fruit, he probably symbolized what we were all feeling.
Back to reality with the next post. In the meantime, check out Art Basel’s Instagram. Telling you, they be wildin’
December 6th is known as the feast day for St. Nicholas. When we speak of Santa Claus, or ‘old St. Nick’, it’s derived from that saint.
Right now we’ll focus on the Barvian/German version of St. Nicholas. In traditional folklore, he’s the companion to Krampus. On December 5th, Krampus comes by and takes away all those pesky little brats. The next day, St. Nicholas comes around bearing gifts for all the good children. Krampus was fazed out around World War II, but in recent years he’s made a comeback in pop culture. He’s been revised both Germany and Austria. In part of the U.S. they now have Krampus celebrations. So while this St. Nick illustration won’t be on a greeting card, my Krampus items continue to be best sellers. In fact, I just designed a new Krampus card. You bunch of sickos.
Regardless, St. Nicholas has quite an interesting history himself. According to Wikipedia, ‘Because of the many miracles attributed to his intercession, he is also known as Nicholas the Wonderworker.[c] Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archers, repentant thieves, prostitutes, children, brewers, pawnbrokers, and students in various cities and countries around Europe. His reputation evolved among the faithful, as was common for early Christian saints, and his legendary habit of secret gift-giving gave rise to the traditional model of Santa Claus (“Saint Nick”) through Sinterklaas.’
Without further ado, here’s the quick Saint Nicholas sketch, completed last night. His buddy Krampus is lurking in the background.
Out of all the greeting cards I’ve designed, the most popular one is Krampus. It was the first card released, and still remains popular. It’s been a while however, and my Krampuskarten needs an update.
So I present to you…my latest greeting card. Krampus In Love.
Krampus and his honey were originally hand drawn.
The card size should be around 4 x 7 in size, comes with envelope inside with plastic wrapping. If anyone is interested, please send $4.00 to Venmo: Witchipoo or PayPal: email@example.com. Just say you want the ‘Krampus In Love’ greeting card.
I’ve also sketched St. Nicholas. He’s not available on a greeting card, unless there’s enough demand. Everyone seems to want Krampus! Well, who can blame them?
Got the word yesterday that my scheduled radio show for tomorrow will be the last show of the season. Reason is very simple. It’s the end of the semester. With that, we’re going to end with a bang by having Boston comic book artist and illustrator Maria Photinakis. She’s traveling all the way from Massachusetts just to be on this show. So tune in and let’s make this last episode something special.
The show will be streaming live on whcsradio.org from 1-2pm EST, the program officially starting at 1:05pm. The radio show might come back for the Spring semester. In the meantime, you can stream the program live from the website, or on Spotify.
Doing this radio show has been both fun, and a learning experience. I want to thank everyone who took the time to listen, to agreed to be interviewed, and for everyone helping out.
All the episodes will be archived on another website. Details forthcoming.
Yesterday we heard the news. Lil Bub, one of the first major internet cats passed away. She was eight years old.
To say Lil Bub was unique is an understatement. Born to a feral cat, Lil Bub was not only the runt of the litter, but suffered many ailments. Along with her many genetic mutations, she had feline dwarfism. This did not stop her from becoming one of the world’s most famous and beloved cats.
Within a span of five years she already had books, a web series, highly anticipated personal appearances, an album, merchandise, and a documentary under her furry belt.
They used to say a dog is a man’s best friend. Nowadays, cats rule with a velvet paw. Five years ago, the first holy trinity of internet cats came to be: Colonel Meow, Grumpy Cat and Lil Bub. Grumpy Cat was the most famous, but Lil Bub was the holiest of the holy.
Colonel Meow and Lil Bub
Grumpy Cat and Lil Bub
Colonel Meow was the first to pass away in 2014. Grumpy cat passed away earlier in 2019. Now with Lil Bub gone, it’s the end of an era.
Lil Bub’s human, Mike Bridavsky decided to turn down Grumpy Cat’s management, headed by Ben Lashes. Instead, Bridavsky decided to share proceeds with animal charities, focusing on special need and homeless pets. Lil Bub also helped contribute to science. After a crowd funding campaign, researchers discovered Lil Bub had a mutation in gene RANK/TNFRSF11A. The findings were published on the website bioRxiv.
Science aside, Lil Bub always found a way to warm your hearts. Her human used to joke that Lil Bub came from outer space. Now it seems like she left earth. While today cats flood social media, no other cat has come close to making an impact like the way the original holy internet cat trilogy did. Particularly with Grumpy Cat and Lil Bub. Only recently the torch has been passed down to Smudge Lord.
I’ve always wanted to do a portrait of Lil Bub. After all, I did portraits of Colonel Meow and Grumpy Cat (Colonel Meow was always my personal favorite. Grumpy came in a close second.) Of course, I never got around to doing it. You would think I would have – especially after meeting Lil Bub back in 2013. It was only the day after her death I decided to do a tribute. Done in pen and ink.
Now that Lil Bub has gone back to outer space, planet Earth has become a little darker. While she was alive, she helped make the world a kinder place. Good job, Bub.