Enter the Saint

My SVG stickman, made to “walk like an Egyptian”

And for my next trick, I’ve decided to up the ante a little bit with my SVG Pyramid animation series (see my other blog for more on this).

Here is the storyboard:

  1. A stick figure (who clearly resembles Eugene Hastain’s stick figure logo for Leslie Charteris’ Enter the Saint) is gliding down a dune on a sandboard.
Leslie Charteris first real Saint book

2. Stickman then glides up, on a curve, an upward sloping dune.

3. He reaches the top of the dune, and flies off into space.

SVG does not support 3-D geometry.

So this will probably take some time to figure out.

As a confirmed eremite, I would rather be playing around with 3-D planes than waste brain cycles thinking about how much I dislike this or that or the other thing, or worry about things that are not in my control.

The only thing that is under my “control” is arranging to leave Gestapo Florida, when the time is right — and never, ever, returning to this vile racist cesspool of a state.

Unfortunately, many are trapped in the quicksand of fascism that is represented by the so-called “red” states — where slavery once held sway, and Jim Crow lives on to this day.

If you are trapped due to personal economics, especially for a prolonged amount of time that begins to feel like a prison sentence, it’s too easy feeling sorry for oneself at how Life can suddenly take a really bad turn — just when you thought you had reached the pinnacle —  and you gradually become a misanthropic hermit, cooking a hairy caterpillar for dinner in the low lands under the gnarled roots of an old tree.

Anomie is deadly at scale.

Justice served

Feeling left out of the great adventure of life that others seem to be having; feeling that you have been kicked in the teeth by the inherent unfairness of your situation; feeling that you have been marginalized beyond redemption; that maybe you should seek revenge; that strangers maybe should pay for what happened to you; because they, for some absurd reason, owe you; feeling that your story was not supposed to turn out this; that there was supposed to be some other, much better outcome (as Eckhart Tolle is fond of lampooning); that you were not meant to end up alone with nothing to show for all the back breaking work you put in — while others (undeserving, without question) won the lottery and moved to splendid palaces filled with wine and song and the sorts of women who marry for money.

Still, some grim satisfaction is to be had in the knowledge that once in a while justice is served to individual psycho racists formerly in power.

I said:  some.

Won’t make that caterpillar any tastier, alas. Especially after reading this horrifying news story.

Chastain’s The Hermit


The Patience of the Wolves

lion fish

All right, let’s set the scales, Florida Lion Fish boy.

Mum is out of the Nursing Home, thank Zeus.

Florida continues to be Florida but then again, so does Suffolk County, or wherever, in this stolen land, you care to look.

Hard to find a place in America that isn’t rife with the stench of white, racist, murderous cops.

But what do you expect in a nation of primitive, violent bigots that is supposedly so advanced?

I get my second COVID shot next week.

Thereafter, I become freer to travel.

I won’t be going to NY, for now, since Mum seems to be okay.

Instead, I am planning on a September vacay leave to Europe, assuming all that they are doing there now will allow it then.

My wife and I will put Geeva (our dog) in a nice boarding place, and then depart, while Florida is in the boiling.

I am losing a lot of weight, and getting healthier, or, at least, thinner.

But it’s taking all my patience to wait until it’s time to abscond.

Wait long enough, and in the end they always crumble.

Just like in Afghanistan and Vietnam.

Easy to bully the defenseless — until they smack you back.

Can’t wait to leave this obscene place.

bashi bazouk


Nice Carnival 1972


nice carnival
I was hired to lead a horse along Place Massena during this particular carnival. Earned 35 New Francs, or USD 7, at the exchange rate at the time, for an evening’s work — which I promptly spent on drinking formidables (enormous glasses of bière pression) on Rue de France, amidst the chatty local poules of the era who used to line up in their thigh-high red boots.


The allure of the past can cripple the future.


bashi bazouk
19th Century Egyptian cicerone