The False Dilemma

Sort of an apolitical cartoon this weekend. Thinking or sending money to one of the two evils? Consider donating to a local charity instead. You might actually make a difference!

Thank you for your eyeballs.
- DJ

Guess what day it is...

Thank you for your eyeballs.
- DJ
I

Yes Siri, I would.

Thanks for your eyeballs.

- DJ

Video for "Vision"

Here is the video for the song "Vision", which was written for my daughter Ashlynn when my Wife was 9 months pregnant.


Thanks for your eyeballs.
- DJ

Video Game People

They're video game people. I can tell, not by the resolution - their details are quite lifelike - but by the way their movements don't seem to quite match up to the rate at which the background scrolls by. That's always a dead give away.

They have the luxury of knowing nothing beyond the execution of now. They sneer as if reading my mind. Who did they think they are? Oh yeah, that's right - they don't think. Though manifestations of creative thought themselves they can't actually produce thought or feign sentience. They exist only to funnel the thought and emotion of their Creator.

If this is the case, why does judgment occupy their lifeless eyes? More important, who IS judging me - who wrote the code that feeds their obvious disdain?

Damn, those are some good graphics.

Evolution

Another weekend comic by DJS:



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Soundbites (For Grammy)

Soundbites
By DJ Stipe

My conscience is not my own.
It’s a switchboard of soundbites,
collected throughout the years
for better or…. worse.


It serves up the crooked cowboy hat,
straw chewing, intelligent
generosity of my wife’s Uncle.
This almost always happens
when I’m up to no good.


The condescending inflection
of my step-father
points out the single blade of grass
that escapes the lawn mower
while I daydream of life without perfection.


When I watch baseball,
it’s Grammy’s voice that cheers.
She tries to make me keep score.
I was never a Braves fan
until I heard the rattle of death
in the bottom of the 9th.


I’m trying to train my conscience to be my own.
I’ve heard it can be done
with years of patience
and a little trickery.

I make myself repeat (in my own voice)
the soundbites of the Great Cowboy.
There’s nothing he’s ever said
that would leave me worse
for having repeated.


I make sure to skip a patch of lawn,
precisely six inches by six inches,
to remind myself
I am NOT my step-dad.


I still cheer for baseball
even though, for me, it’s magic is lost without…
chalk on my hands;
knees stained by perfectly cut grass;
Big League Chew spit
dripping down my chin;
Or the scorecards of excited Grandmothers.


Here batter, batter.

Expecto Patronum

Was your big sister or brother your patronus? Mine was.




Thanks for your eyeballs.

- DJ

The Last Squeegy

There's a lot of bug shit and water stains distracting me on this journey
Dammit
I'm almost halfway there
Something's got to give
Keep a lookout for a vista
Or even one of those dirty rest stops
Dirty birds around the back
With dirty peckers
Because I'm not ready
I'm not quite ready to get there
let me know if you see a car wash
but not one of those roto jobbers with the red and blue wheels
Those scratch-imparting demons of childhood amusement
It's got to be touchless or do-it-yourself
then again
I could just wash the windshield when I get gas
but half the time they don't fill the buckets anymore, don't bother to add soap
or replace the squeegies when they get stolen.
Who steals those things anyway?
It's a symptom.
All of this is symptomatic -
a complete disregard for one's right to live life
without looking at the world
through the lens of a bug's asshole.

This is where western civilization ends:
The dissappearance of
the last
courtesy squeegy.



Thanks for your eyeballs.

- DJ

Laundry

Death is just what happens when the laundry's finally done.
Thanks for your eyeballs.
- DJ

Grace is Gone

A weekend comic for you. Share if you've ever been behind "that guy/gal" in the check-out line.





Thanks for your eyeballs.

- DJ

Unearthing Bone

Trying an evernote link today to keep the formatting:


Unearthing Bone

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

A Memory of Light

For Joseph Allen Long:

A Truth about our Oceans

I took this picture near Bodega Bay, and it just made me think...

Hormones

Hormones
By DJ Stipe

Breasts today are not the
breasts of my teenage years.
Legs and thighs now, too, are
fuller – more plump and tender;
More physically fulfilling,
but packaged just the same.

Estradiol, Progesterone, Testosterone
redirected by
the needle point of
suspect motivation.

Zeranol, Trenbolone, Melengestrol
invented by
the sledgehammer of
aggie industrialization.

The flaws have been removed,
along with all signs of animality.
They boast uniformity of flavor
from the first taste to the last.
Still, I prefer my breasts
lopsided, skin-on bone-in.

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home
By DJ Stipe

Here On My Entry…

So Warm, Each Entity.  This:

Heaven On My Earth.          

Practiced

Practiced
By DJ Stipe

Among fields of 4/4 time
a breeze of perfect pitch blows
   across reeds
   through valves
   along strings
in praise of times
they fell half a beat short
on sharp notes
   instead of naturals.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Welcome to DJ Stipewriter

A first post of little note
No big flash and no big hope
just a place to stash my goat
so nobody out there can get it

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]