Think it was the year 1982 or 1983. Around the time when Culture Club first tried to crack into the U.S. market with their first album ‘Kissing To Be Clever.’ I discovered Boy George and the rest of the crew thanks to a quick mention in People Magazine. One look at the black and white photograph, and I was intrigued. The next time I went with my mother to the Alexander’s department store on E. 59th street, my curiosity lead to the record section on the top floor. I was the first kid on the block to own a Culture Club record, and immediately outcast by my Queens junior high peers. The label of ‘freak‘ was slapped upon me. Back in those days, Boy George’s gender bending look was an assault on the American mainstream.
My parents didn’t understand my newfound fascination with Boy George. The good news was, unlike other parents, my parents gave me enough freedom to explore different types of music, art, etc. That turned out to be my saving grace. I was an only child caught in a dysfunctional family. A misfit among my school mates. Wasn’t fond of my neighborhood. Worse of all, I really hated my hairstyle. For some godawful reason, my mother insisted of getting my hair cut in a certain way. That haircut was completely unflattering. It was through my Culture Club fandom that I first discovered how ignorant people can be. Oh, and by the time high school rolled around, I took total control of my own look. I adopted a Siouxsie hairstyle, joining the mid/late ’80s Post Punk crowd. Everyone on my block was horrified about my Goth look. I reviled in it.
In the middle of all this, my parents decided to take a week vacation deep in Upstate NY. We took the bus to Lake George, NY. I should’ve known the trip wasn’t going to be pleasant. Right before we left, my cat Tiger scratched the shit out of my father. My father, of course, thought he knew how to handle cats. No he did not. After Tiger sunk his claws into my father’s hand, chomp went the cat fangs. Dad ended up getting a nasty infection. Thus set the tone for the entire week.
In the midst of my father’s bad temper, and outcast status among tourists, I found refuge in a huge Upstate video arcade. It was the early ’80s after all. Games like Pac-Man, Tempest, Donkey Kong and so many others were at it’s peak. If there was one thing I was good at, it was video games. In-between I played some mean rounds of skeeball. I got so good at skeeball, there was enough tickets to fetch a prize. So while the vacation itself was miserable, these video games proved a worthy escape.
Fast forward to the year 2000. My ex-boyfriend decided to take me to see Ozzfest at Satatoga Springs. On the way back to NYC, we found ourselves in Lake George. Immediately I recognized the old arcade. It was still there. Walking inside, it was a time warp. It was a rare moment, where everything was exactly the way it was back in 1983. I loved it. Even took a few photos. Walking through the rest of the main town, I discovered how pretty Lake George was. Gone was the annoying tourists. The entire area was empty. My second chance with Lake George was bliss.
It would be nice to visit Lake George a third time. Before doing this blog post, I did some quick research. Believe this might be the arcade in discussion, or it could be this one. Either way, I’m not too sure of the business name. It looks like there’s been some changes since my last visit in 2000. As of this post, the U.S. is in the middle of a pandemic. So it’ll be a long time before I’ll be going anywhere. Been stuck back in Queens, NY for a little over two months. It’s a good time as any to reminiscence.
In the meantime, enjoy this sketch done earlier this week. Hand drawn, pen, ink, and digitally colored.
Video game memories. Hand drawn, pen and ink. Digitally colored. Michele Witchipoo. May 2020.
Want to buy some of my designs? There’s RedBubble: Witchipoo
Finally, don’t forget to purchase my Squeaky comic. $4.00. Venmo: @Witchipoo.
Also. I’m available for commissions. Comics and greetings are available for purchase. No shame in this plug. Especially with the financial impact. Questions? Hit me up: Witchipoo@witchesbrewpress.net. You can also contact me via Instagram, @WitchipooArt
Want to buy some of my designs? There’s RedBubble: Witchipoo
Finally, don’t forget to purchase my Squeaky comic. $4.00. Venmo: @Witchipoo.
Also. I’m available for commissions. Comics and greetings are available for purchase. No shame in this plug. Especially with the financial impact. Questions? Hit me up: Witchipoo@witchesbrewpress.net. You can also contact me via Instagram, @WitchipooArt
As we are only a few days into 2020, Psycho Bunny has a message.
Psycho Bunny’s message for the new year. Jan. 2020. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo on WitchesBrewPress.
The year 2019 wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the greatest either. Maybe I’ll explain in another post. The previous year started strong. As it went along, it started to go down a slippery slope. It wasn’t a total loss. I saw a lot of great concerts in 2019. Did well in all the comic cons I vended in. My work was exhibited many times during the second part of 2019. I had my own radio show for a few months. It wasn’t all bad.
Last year I also discovered who my real friends were. The concept of what friendship is a rather fickle concept. When the fakes leave your life, consider it a blessing in disguise. For example. The red flags was all in the gossip. If a salon owner (*cough-cough* – Second Star Salon – *cough-cough*) is going to viciously gossip about a client’s sex life, imagine what is being said about you. Silence is really golden. So it’s not really a loss. Instead of being bitter, I just appreciated valid ones. Sometimes knowing who your real friends are is worth more than having all the so-called “connections” in the world.
After a few of my personal experiences, I did a few inventory checks. I can do without the gossip, the pettiness, the backstabbing, and trying to appease others. There is something beautiful about being genuine. No longer do I take people’s word at face value. Read between the lines. A person can say the most soothing words, but actions speak louder than words. Emotions can trick you. Comfort is sometimes an illusion.
Someone I’ve known for a few years now always tells me “not to rock the boat.” I don’t know about that. Don’t rock the boat for whom? I discard that advice just like how people quote “stay in your own lane.” People who give out advice like that are only protecting themselves.
Anyway. Despite what’s happening with various world events, there still might be a shred of hope. A year doesn’t reveal much of itself until March rolls around. The winter months is a good time to lay low. Despite the cold temperatures, it’s a peaceful time.
Speaking of which, this week I will be in another group exhibit. I’ll post the details in another entry. The exhibit will be at some cute swanky place, Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
Want to buy some of my designs? There’s RedBubble: Witchipoo
Finally, don’t forget to purchase my Squeaky comic.
My latest comic will be hopefully, released this upcoming Spring:
*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, psychobunnycomix@aol.com. Specify which issue you’re ordering. Currently in stock is Psycho Bunny issue 3.75 and Temptation of Squeaky issue one.
Not everyone cares for fireworks. Family pets like cats, dogs and other animals get easily frightened by loud commotions. Squeaky Squeakums decided to do something about it. She enlisted the help of her demon buddy, Magnus Maximus to put a stop to those pesky fireworks during the Fourth of July.
Squeaky Squeakums and her demon friend Magnus Maximus put a stop to all those annoying fireworks. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo, on WitchesBrewPress. Sketched on July 2019.
If you haven’t blown off your fingers, perhaps you should buy a copy of ‘The Temptation of Squeaky’, written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo, on WitchesBrewPress.
May 14th, 2019, Jaz Coleman was at Berlin NYC for an intimate spoken word event. Coleman is the un-dogmatic vocalist for the band Killing Joke. The influential Post-Punk group was on their 40th anniversary world tour. Playing at venues across America was part of the itinerary, which included two sold out gigs at the following NYC venues; Le Poisson Rouge located in Manhattan and Brooklyn’s St. Vitus. Along the way, Jaz Coleman squeezed in a few spoken word events in Los Angeles, San Diego and New York City. Here we’ll discuss the NYC gig.
I first discovered Killing Joke when I was maybe around 15 years old. Heard strains of their single Love Like Blood from some radio program broadcast on WNEW-FM. It was a show featuring British alternative acts. Which is how I also discovered The Smiths. Love Like Blood led to me getting the Nighttime album on vinyl.
Prior going any further, I’m going to confess something. A few years after getting Nighttime, I saw Killing Joke live at CBGB’s. This was during the late ’80s. (Exact date: August 13, 1989) By then the group had already established themselves as legendary. So as a rude teenager, I walked to the bar. Unexpectedly I found myself standing right next to none other than Jaz Coleman himself. He was relaxing at the bar prior to the concert. Jaz was naturally friendly. This timing was way off for me, for around this time I was in my obnoxious late teen phase. So what do I do? I was completely rude to Jaz, then walked away. The middle age adult in me is looking back and shaking her head. I wasn’t being clever. I was being a jerk. Nonetheless, Killing Joke put on an amazing show. As the band played, a woman sporting light brown curly hair began talking to me. She asked me if I was observing Jaz’s facial expressions during the band’s performance. “He’s so intense” she cooed.
A friend who had gone with me to the CBGB’s gig became an impromptu fanboy after that night. Got obsessed with Killing Joke. Overnight the entire Killing Joke back catalog was a part of his record collection. According to memory, he mentioned that Jaz Coleman was doing some spoken word performance at the 13th Street Playhouse. I didn’t go to the Q&A titled “The Necessity of Struggle“, which Jaz was doing along with Martin Atkins. Most likely because I was a broke obnoxious teenager. So my friend goes the following Monday. I ask him for his feedback. He dropped a few tidbits here and there, but his review could be summed up in one word.
“Intense.”
As my friend continued on his Killing Joke fandom, I slowly began to regret my rudeness towards Coleman. Fast forward decades later. After discovering Killing Joke back when I was 15 during the Nighttime era, I rediscovered them upon my return to NYC during the mid-2000s. This was also around the time I was knee deep in studying ceremonial and chaos magick. My CD of Pandemonium, which I originally brought during the ’90s, was in constant rotation again. It wasn’t until I started Googling the band that Jaz, along with other members were also interested in the Occult. My suspicions were confirmed. Suddenly it made sense.
Jumping to the years 2018 and 2019. Once again I pick up on Killing Joke. My Spotify list had Killing Joke in rotation. As luck would have it, Killing Joke was touring. Perfect timing, cause finally I had the funds to go and see them live once more. I brought my ticket to the Le Poisson Rouge show, despite St. Vitus being closer to where I currently reside. This didn’t matter, for it all worked out in the end. Last minute I decided to go to the Jaz Coleman spoken word event at Berlin NYC. This time the lecture was titled “Off On A Tangent.” After all these aeons, maybe now I can see what my teenage friend was raving about.
Arriving solo at Berlin NYC, it should be noted that this time, I left my rude attitude at home. As my attitude was locked up in box, I assured it that it will be brought back when clocking in for work. Just give me two days once I’m back in the mundane.
Prior to Jaz Coleman, front man for the legendary Post-Punk band Killing Joke taking the stage. May 14th, 2019 during Coleman’s “Off On A Tangent” spoken word event in NYC. At the venue Berlin NYC.
Berlin NYC was small, intimate, and extremely hot. The temperature felt like a fricken’ sauna. Met some nice UK fans who traveled to NYC exclusively for the Killing Joke gigs. The hardcore Killing Joke fans are known as “Gatherers.” There was one particular fan I friended on Facebook – he followed the entire U.S. tour. The audience mostly consisted of these devotees.
Now, Berlin NYC is located on Avenue A near Houston. Deep in the heart of the East Village/Lower East Side. It’s 2019, so the area has been heavily gentrified. Despite a tiny closet masquerading at a studio apartment going for $3000 per month, it’s still the East Village. Therefore thanks to the help of a few audience members, it almost became a free for all. I’ll get to that later in the post.
Jaz Coleman, front man for the legendary Post-Punk band Killing Joke. May 14th, 2019 during Coleman’s “Off On A Tangent” spoken word event in NYC. At the venue Berlin NYC.
As luck would have it, an extremely kind gentleman offered his seat to me. I had the best view the whole night. Turns out the woman I sat next to was a friend, a petite blond woman who I met a few years ago through another mutual friend. She was with her male friend, a tall blond man with a thick Yugoslavian accent who she recently got re-antiquated with. Her friend takes one look at me, and offers to buy me a beer. Jaz Coleman quietly takes his seat on the stage. He starts by looking straight into the gathered, and thus set the tone for the night.
Jaz states his intention. He says he was going to open the floor to the audience, allowing him to ask anything they want. That included not just Killing Joke but his interest in the Occult, his personal life, what have you. He taps the red stool next to his table. All you had to do was sit on stage next to him on the “hot seat.” But first, he requested that everyone in the audience to get up from their seats, walk around and introduce themselves to each other. I froze. It felt like I was in either a class or some self-help workshop…or both. For all we know, this could’ve been a casual working in process, and Jaz was starting up the ritual. The friend sitting next to me wasn’t too fond of this idea. She adamantly shook her saying “Nooooooooo…” Yeah, I wasn’t too thrilled either. After she was done disputing his request, I look up from my seat. There’s Jaz Coleman standing right in front of me. He says hello, introducing himself, and asks for our names as he extends his hand. I shake his hand calmly, but inside I felt like a deer caught in headlights. Don’t get me wrong. That itself was amazing, but I was still taken slightly aback.
Jaz takes his seat on the stage once again. Let the show begin.
Jaz Coleman answers questions from audience members May 14th, 2019 during his “Off On A Tangent” spoken word event in NYC. At the venue Berlin NYC.
Jaz Coleman answers questions from audience members May 14th, 2019 during his “Off On A Tangent” spoken word event in NYC. At the venue Berlin NYC.
Some brave souls get upon the hot seat. Jaz listens intently. He gives the inquirers as much as time they need to express themselves. Everything is going smoothly at first.
My friend’s friend, the blond dude with the Yugoslavian accent slowly builds up. He begins to interrupt. The guy didn’t mean to be rambunctious, but the drinks were starting to have an effect. I didn’t catch this guy’s name. You would think I would’ve. Considering he brought me a drink. Hell, we clinked our pint glasses together in a few toasts. But I didn’t, for I already was getting consumed in the event itself. Jaz had to scold him a few times.
Jaz Coleman, lead vocalist for the band Killing Joke and classical composer answers questions from audience members May 14th, 2019 during his “Off On A Tangent” spoken word event in NYC. At the venue Berlin NYC.
So Jaz asks who is next for the hot seat. The tall blond guy volunteers himself.
“Are you going to behave?” Jaz demands.
“Yes! Yes! I have a question…”
So Jaz allows him access to the red hot seat. The guy, starts by telling Jaz about his jacket. That this jacket is from a certain era, etc.
Jaz has this puzzled look; “What’s the question?”
The blond guy responds; “Nothing. I just wanted to show you my jacket…”
Jaz: “Get off the stage!”
The audience breaks into laughter. This impulsive comic relief leads to intermission, as Jaz decides to have some “tea and biscuits.”
After the break, Jaz explains to the audience that he is a recovering alcoholic. Eventually he decided it was wise to quit drinking, otherwise the alternative would’ve meant death. He recalls one incident where him and another band member got into a severe fist fight, to the point where blood could be seen on the walls. Jaz didn’t use channels like Alcoholic Anonymous. His claim was he used sheer willpower to combat drinking. He still enjoys the social aspect of going down to the pub however – but he will not order anything alcoholic. Jaz emphasized on the other alternative…death.
Jaz then pleaded for anyone who has struggled with alcoholism to speak to him. He was willing to help anyone who’s been in a similar plight. He points to the tall blond guy from earlier. “I had a talk with him during the break…”
The hot seat opens up again. More volunteers step up. As for me, I couldn’t think of anything to ask. For once, my mind was a complete blank slate. Don’t think I would’ve managed to get up on stage if I tried. Perhaps this was good. I was more content being a spectator.
Yet the free for all had already began. A tall, slim young woman with a gorgeous face approaches the stage. She begins by stating her parents were occultists, and that she had a rather unconventional childhood. Afterward that, she completely lost me. She rambled on for some time. I get it. She was completely lost in her feelings. While I don’t mean to disrespect her in any way, she just went on and on. What was her point? To Jaz’s credit, he showed an incredible amount of patience. More kudos, he was actually listening. Where as I gave up on her after five minutes. This was followed by another pretty lady, but I tuned out what she was talking about as well. Give Jaz some applause. He has patience of a saint. Must be the Pisces in him.
Speaking of astrology. Jaz mentions sometime during the night that if you are ever curious about your death, check into the 8th house of your astrology chart. Astrology was something I was never an expert on, (tarot and other tools were more my forte) but I have my chart stored somewhere online. The next day, I did exactly that. Took a look at my own astrology chart. Turns out, Jaz is right. The 8th house of your astrology chart points to love, sex, and death.
Jaz dropped some additional wisdom, such as desire vs. love. He says that in order for something to come into fruition, you have to love it, but not desire it. Again, here he has a point. If you want something to manifest, it cannot be on desire alone. Desire leads to obsession, but do you truly love what you’re trying to obtain? My interpretation regarding desire vs. love is this. Desire is to obtain something, like power, or possession. Love on the other hand, is something that’s sincere and unconditional. No strings attached, no ulterior motives. You do something because you love to do it, without demands. Desire only brings misery. It’s an illusion. Desire means we are only fooling ourselves. We desire to feel important. So you take out a car loan to get that car that makes you look good. That car will take twenty years to pay off, as the bank makes interest. Meanwhile, you know you really can’t afford that car. So you’re enslaved. It’s a trap. Now we need cellphones in today’s world. So we pay the cellphone bill. But do we really need that Audi? I would be happy if I just owned any working car, period. Another example. I knew someone who collected watches. The watches were stored inside a dresser, never to be seen. Seriously though, how many watches does one need? I don’t even wear a watch myself – I just use the clock on my smartphone screen. Sometimes less is more. The more material items one collects, or the more someone desires, the more it becomes obvious that there’s an empty void desperately needed to be filled. Desire backfires. Thus love becomes the real magick.
You’re not here to read about my tangents. Back to that night. Jaz mentions some other bits of advice, but eventually the Q&A comes to a close. Before the event ends, Jaz wants to play a classical piece that he composed himself. For those who don’t know, Jaz Coleman is also an accomplished classical music composer. Which explains why some Killing Joke songs sound rather epic. Again, this makes sense. As he plays a classical track, you can see the expression on his face. He’s completely immersed with each note. Meanwhile my petite blond friend starts chewing my ear off in defense of her friend. She says he’s a good guy, he has a good heart, etc. I’m trying to go back and forth between watching Jaz Coleman and listening to my friend.
I think Jaz did have some sort of effect on her tall male friend, which I will get to in my next Killing Joke post. It’ll be mentioned in my Killing Joke concert review, which took place the next night.
It’s getting late, but Jaz Coleman offers to meet anyone in the next room, located in the back of the venue. I politely but quickly bid farewell to my friend, rushing to the back.
As I’m waiting on line, my patience was starting to crack. It’s been a long, busy month for me. Crankiness was starting to appear. I don’t know how I managed to contain myself. I grumbled a few times while on line. Guess it must be the Aries in me.
This all changed as soon when it was my turn. I swear, as soon as I took a few steps into the back room and said “hello”, Jaz extended his arms and proceeded to give me a warm hug. That was totally unexpected. I retained my composure on the outside, but inside I was giddy. Now here’s the part where I do something I normally NEVER do. Please allow my vulnerability as I start swooning here.
After the hug, I closely look straight into his eyes. I told my interest in the occult as he smiled. “I’ve been listening to you since I was 15” I said, “but I’m sure you’ve been told that before…”
“No” as he shook his head, “Don’t say that.” Putting on a mock accent, he continued: “I want to thank you for putting food in my belly!” That was cute. At that point the wicked witch in me melted. Words? What words, I lost them. I stammered again that I was a fan for a while, but quickly checked myself. Excusing myself, I said I was going, but I will be at the concert. “I’ll look for you tomorrow night” he chimed, as I sped out the exit. Cause inside by this point, I was dying.
Go on, have a chuckle at my expense. It’s all good. It took me two weeks to process this. A delayed reaction of sorts. I will say for the record, as Jaz hugged me, it was not inappropriately. It was a genuine hug, no matter how unexpected. What really got to me what the realization that today, the human touch has become a luxury. As human beings we are afraid to hug each other as a friendly gesture. Perhaps we have lost the meaning of showing kindness. It’s perfectly okay to text each other until nightfall. There’s adventures in “sexting”, etc. God forbid though, to have a true conversation face to face. We have become jaded creatures, for every other person is an opportunist. That is distressing, and I’m digressing. But I’ll tell you this. By perchance Jaz Coleman decides to form some sort of spiritual collective or cult. It could be either in New Zealand or South America. I just might hit up travelocity.com. I jest, I jest….or am I? I caught that raised eyebrow. Therefore I’ll leave it up to you to decide.
If you’ve come this far, I thank thee. I’ve rambled on like that girl on stage. Cause it’s easy to type mindlessly on a laptop keyboard. On my cell is photo of me with Jaz Coleman. He offered to take “selfies” with anyone who requested. It’s not one of my best photos. In fact, I look exhausted. It’s been an exhausting month. But perhaps I made up for being such a jerk to him back when I was in my late teens. Echoing the others, I’d say the whole night was intense.
Right now everyone seems to be into Game of Thrones. Except for me.
I’ve never even had a chance to either read the book, or watch the show. It’s been recommended to me many times. As I’ve said before, never had the time. Then the hype started kicking in. With audiences everywhere making such a fuss, I decided to stream old Barney Miller reruns instead.
Most likely I’ll check it out when the hype has quieted down. But I’m like that with television in general. Music, film, books, I’m passionate about. Television never caught my interest. Although I should pay closer attention. You never know who tries to rip off your comic book characters and ideas. Like constantly asking for a PDF of your comic while claiming they spoke to Seth McFarlane’s manager online – and being vague with the information. That experience made me quite weary. Last year my decade old suspicions were finally confirmed. After a panel at NYCC, I relayed to a seasoned comic book veteran about that particular experience. He called me a “smart girl” for following my gut instincts. In addition, he called that other person’s behavior as “unprofessional.”
Live and learn as the old saying goes.
Anyway…back to Game of Thrones. The more hype I see about this show online, the more I secretly wish to post spoilers. I’m sure that’s something Psycho Bunny would do. Introducing the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week for May 14, 2019.
Psycho Bunny tries to reveal spoilers for Game of Thrones. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo on WitchesBrewPress. May 2019.
Speaking of hype, my latest comic is available for sale. You can order via PayPal, Venmo and Square. You can also purchase the comic next month at these two comic cons next month. Cradle Con and IncrediCon. Copies have been selling, so don’t miss your chance.
So once again Psycho Bunny is drunk and complaining. You would think he’d like St. Patrick’s Day. Nope. He considers it “amateur drinking day.”
Introducing the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week:
Psycho Bunny considers St. Patrick’s Day to be Amateur Drinking Day. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo. On WitchesBrewPress. March 2019.
Personally I’m still not fond of the holiday. Don’t hate it as much as I used to, but still find many things wrong. There was no snakes in Ireland. St. Patrick ‘driving the snakes away’ is just simply a metaphor for converting people into Christian beliefs. Despite my half English ancestry, which can be traced back to Ireland and Scotland, I never connected with the holiday. Maybe it was due to people acting like drunken fools in the street. Don’t let my cynicism stop you. If you want to partake, that’s fine. This year, I learned about some of the ingredients of Irish soda bread. It goes along great with whiskey butter. Definitely not for amateurs.
However. Despite what I just stated above, I actually do have a lucky St. Paddy story.
The year was either 1987 or 1988. During the mid to late 80s, I was a Siouxsie Sioux clone. Everyday I would leave the house with huge teased black hair, after applying enough Aqua Net to penetrate the ozone layer. My makeup was a carbon copy of her style. However, because I was in the U.S. and not the U.K., people didn’t know what to make of me. The Goth subculture did not hit the mainstream as of yet. We’re talking before all the Tim Burton films were released. So most of the time I was called “Elvira” or simply “freak.”
That particular St. Paddy’s Day, I was walking down 2nd Avenue in the East Village. As I was heading towards 14th street, I passed an Irish bar. The bar entrance was wide open. Middle aged working class men were getting their drink on. Commuters lived in either New Jersey or Long Island, but partied terribly in NYC. The type that would piss in your backyard, then head to their respectable suburban homes as if nothing happened. As soon as they saw me, all the drunk working class men shouted insults towards me.
Walking by, I ignored the men. Still, by this point I was in a pissy mood. Out of nowhere, some young long haired guy jumps in front of me. He reeked of desperation.Not noticing how annoyed I already was, he opens a shoe box.
“Straight from London. Brand new…”
I took a peek. They were brand new creepers. They were smooth black leather, with a little more extra height on the platform soles. The silver design had zipper eye teeth, long thin spikes coming out in 3-D, and studded crosses in the middle. Not even Trash and Vaudeville sold these. They were gorgeous. They also looked majorly expensive.
Looking back at him, I said I only have either ten or twenty bucks. Showed him the money. He threw the shoes at me, snatched my money and ran. Guy obviously must’ve either stole this pair, needed money for drugs, or both. As he fled down the street I couldn’t believe it. The pair was a size too big but I loved them anyway. It was guaranteed nobody else had these shoes. Never saw another pair like them since. Wore them until they wore out.
That’s my lucky St. Patrick’s Day story.
Feeling lucky yourself? Check out these social media links…
Okay. Last week I went on some tangent. The last two weeks of 2018 felt like someone not only stunk up the bathroom without ventilation, but forgot to flush.
It wasn’t a completely bad year. Personally, one of the highlights of 2018 was all the concerts I attended. I remember back in August 2018. One particular weekend had concerts back to back. First it was Culture Club on Saturday, then Slayer on Sunday. Talk about polar opposites. After the Slayer concert had ended, sitting inside a car at the Jones Beach parking lot waiting to go home. I looked up at the sky. There was the moon in full view, shining very bright. The person I was with said “that was meant for you.” So it a sense, it wasn’t a bad summer at all. It was the seasons in-between that stunk. Talk about seasons in the abyss.
There were other highlights, and many, many lessons to be learned during the course of 2018. I realized I ranted pretty hard on one of my last blog posts. The good news is, new year, new beginnings.
Speaking of which, here’s some ‘toilet humor’ for you. Our dear friend Psycho Bunny has decided to flush the old year out. Introducing the Psycho Bunny sketch of the week, for January 7th, 2019.
Psycho Bunny flushes the old year away. Based on the comic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo, on WitchesBrewPress. Jan. 2019.
Back again with another sketch from my forthcoming webcomic. It’s been completed, but somehow I postpone uploading it. Now that winter’s here, I should post it very soon.
Meanwhile, we’re in a new year. Which means fresh starts.
Hey. The year 2018 wasn’t all bad. The summer seemed to be the best part of last year. Music and concerts was 2018’s saving grace. Overall it was a year of highs and lows. If a person shows his or her hand, it’s time to wave them buh-bye.
Once they say they’ll never to talk to you again, it’s like the trash took itself out.
Here’s Squeaky Squeakums helping the demon take such trash out.
Squeaky Squeakums and her demon buddy help take last year’s trash out. Based on the upcoming webcomic written and drawn by Michele Witchipoo. Jan. 2019.
Keep on checking back for news about the webcomic.
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