Mister Bottom's Folly: DOODLE DO-DO

Thursday 10 October 2019

DOODLE DO-DO

And it's not that I think all the doodles and cartoons I do are piles of steaming dog shit. I like some. Others leave me hemming and hawing. Some I hate. Some bore me. But most are just there...

I thought about doing street graffiti like Banksy, so I could have a little more cash for my retirement pod, and I thought about spray painting the walls of my living room to get some practice in, but I don’t think my landlord would dig my new art scene. But here’s a bit of graffiti I saw on a mail box near where I live which I hope stays up until the spring at least. Of course, that depends on whether the Canada Post folks like their mailboxes colourful and interesting or uniform gray...

If I Can't Fly...?

My new program is to doodle as I watch the boob tube in the evening. I figure it’s better than giving television my full attention. So, some of these babies might be influenced by all kinds of electromagnetic, Manchurian Candidate-style mind-control rays coming off the screen. Some doodles might even be programmed to kill or, on the other hand, provoke a response in people that raises pulse-rates above statistical norms. Others are influenced by whatever, from whenever and wherever. Hey, stop complaining! They’re free; enjoy them or scrape them off your shoe...

IF I CAN’T FLY, WHO CAN? Answer: Probably most everybody else in the country. Duh! Three-Dee loser doesn’t know what’s good for him. Just jump, you jerk, and find out! And what do you mean my Air Miles won’t get me to Antarctica!?! I’m waiting for Larsen C to calve off, so I can get to my beach front property. What’s the hold up?

P.L.L.F.

POOR, LITTLE LOST FACTORY (P.L.L.F.). I know this doesn't look much like a factory, but just go with it. Folks, factories are getting lost all the time! They wander off. Some are found in re-wilded landscapes, amid cracked parking lots and crab grass. Others are absconded with—carted away willy-nilly to far-flung corners of the world. Some are abandoned by their parent companies, like our little friend, here, who seems to be sporting his first cookie-duster whiskers. Too bad, you say? So what? No skin off of my nose. Well, who will make our widgets and wally-nutts, our Cream Dreams and floor models? Riddle-me-that, why don’t you? Of course, if we're at all honest about it, there were too many in the first place. Just sayin'.

Prayin' to the Garden Gods

PRAYIN’ TO THE GARDEN GODS. This guy is just way too happy to be outside! Okay, I envy him—"envy" being one of the Seven Deadlies, I know. Six more to go, and they give me a gold star!

A House Divided

A HOUSE DIVIDED. This obsessive, little one, like a checkers-board gone awry, reminded me of a map of the United States (sort of). We see the divisions there, and up here we cluck-cluck our tongues and say, “Isn’t it too bad what’s happening to them?” But lots of houses are becoming divided, these days. We’d best attend to ours, and find the things that are truly important in our lives, before our king is jumped, and we royally screw the pooch.

WTF?!

WTF? I have no idea what’s happening here, and I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, it looks downright embarrassing for all concerned. The king seems to be looking upon the scene, and I’m sure he’s thinking: “I’m surprised AND ashamed!” I think it will be some time before the poor chap orders, “Adult Recreational Products” from Amazon, again! No more Prime deliveries for you, stud! (And is that Hamlet, with his slowly deflating "Ophelia" doll?) Oopsie, indeed!

MY WORK IS DONE. A follow up on WTF?! We’re all tempted to take our work home. And most of us do. But we have to remember that a job is just a job.

My work is done...

While not all of us will get our certification or be able to seal-the-deal, it's nevertheless a good idea to bring your best game when you're asked to step up to the plate. (Wait. So, it’s okay to use sports metaphors, now? I give up!)...sigh...Her Thought Bubble: "Who was that man?!” His Thought Bubble: “Good job! Well done. Mission accomplished! Package delivered and on time. Oh yeah!”

ANY FINAL THOUGHTS? This little guy looks like the hero’s sidekick who bought the farm in the movie, A Massage Too Far, and he gets me wondering about my local 'wellness center'.

Any Final Thoughts?

Every week when I do my laundry, I drive to a laundromat in a small plaza about half a mile from my house. There is, of course, Sadie's Laundromat and a Mike's Mart, and a bait shop there, and right beside the laundromat there is the "health spa". They call it the something-or-other "spa" and it has colourful logos on the door and a list of services provided. I usually sit in my car drinking coffee and read while my laundry goes through its cycles, and I watch to see who goes into the place. In all the time I've been going there, I've never seen any customers enter --at least through the front door. The only person I do see going in and out is the gal I’ve named, “The Madam.” She arrives in a big, white SUV and unloads supplies from time to time. I'm curious about what exactly goes on in there and what the place looks like. I'm hesitant to check it out, but if they offer seniors’ discounts I might consider going for a "hot rocks" treatment or a pedicure or something. Though I’ll draw the line at “deep therapy” massage, whatever that is. It sounds like code for something involving my prostate, and I’ll leave that for Doc Brady to fiddle with! Just say'in....

The Massage Parlor

The front door

puffs open

with another

back door exit.

Inside, there’s

an exchange

of air pressure.

Free of charge.

Closet Jock

CLOSET JOCK. My goal, exercise-wise, is to fit into my old jock by spring. ‘Nough said.

The doodles below: SEDIMENTARY, EVOLUTION, CAIN IS ABLE, THE GODS ARE RISING, FLOTSOM AND JETSOM, GHOSTS AND MEMORIES and THE HIDDEN GARDEN were done while watching TV. Talk about walking and chewing gum at the same time!

p.s. if you don't like the titles, ignore them and make up your own! Doodles are only lines on a page, after all....

Cheers, Jake.