Archive for the ‘Ha Ha’ Category

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Randy Rainbow is one of the most wonderful queer artists working today. Randy we love you.


Check out more of Randy Rainbow’s work on facebook HERE.

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Add a little charcoal or some type of smell barrier and we know several folks who could use a few pairs. Though you know we have always enjoyed the clearing a room aspect of a good loud smelly fart. Or remember those that were called silent but deadly? Those were the worse kind. No warning alarm to let us know next up will be_____. Just sneaked up on everyone and then the who did it game starts. Meanie’s will pick a person they don’t like and point at them, saying loudly, “My goodness Margie what have you been eating?”

A long time friend of ours sent along this poem and asked if we would publish it. “Why not,” we said. We read it, enjoyed it, asked ourselves what would we do if faced with this art act How would we respond if we were eating dinner, getting drunk, just sitting around enjoying ourselves. So here it is for your reading pleasure. A big thank you to Wendell for sending it along. He asked that we post a video that even we find disgustingly interesting.



One night ago: On making and filling empty spaces.

by Wendell Marsh

And when the body fluids started to flow

All over the table it was time for him to go-

Somewhere other than here, anywhere else but here and now, don’t care where, just anywhere, anywhere else but here.

She said I really have nothing to do with him, just get him out of here. Move him away from my table.

I don’t care what he does, go here, go there anywhere but near.

He drooled too much all over on the table, took his finger and made some squiggles. Art on the run. Spit, spit, spit, on the table.

Causing the lady, dripping in all the goodness that money can buy to get out of her chair and leave.

One empty space over there to be filled with a stronger stomach than the lady dripping in all the goodness that money can buy.

I’m getting sick just watching him as he began making his way from his table to another.

Leaving behind on table top spit art squiggles.

With the 3 ladies he sat, oh no why, why us wailed blondie. I don’t want him near me. Not here or anywhere close by.

Why in the world, why in the universe why in the depths of hell, does he want to bug us? Crap he moves closer, he smells along with his grubby clothes.

That need, that need that needs to be filled, happy go lucky stumbling slide over and bug me out. Oh no. Get the fuck out of here.

Lonely artist draws in spit because he has no money for art supplies. He’s a post-studio mess, out about town making it where ever he sits.

Money for drink now that is another thing. More important than all the paintings on canvas. One can always draw with spit on the top of the table in fancy pants place or dives.

Causing people nearby to say fuck this shit we’re leaving. Clean up your act you dirty old thing. We’re outta here.

He mumbles who cares, you mean nothing to me and won’t even buy me a drink for my art.

All’s a goner, empty spaces lots of places to make some art. Wipe the table spit is gone no more art to bother about.

Throw out the bum the bartender yells. He and a few hearty farts do the job of chasing a crowd out the door.

The train rumbles by shaking the whole place. What side of the tracks am I on no matter which the place it shakes.

Every night the train comes right on time, wakes me up and I think, I lay there and think, how the fuck can I get out of here?

Tomorrow I will get on the train and go. Go, go to someplace else, some place other than here where trains don’t rumble in the night waking me up so I have to think in the middle of the night laying there thinking there, thinking in fright, thinking in the night about spit on the table and art.

Just wants to sleep be quiet seeing what can come through from other places to fill this space.

Up in a tree, down in a easy chair, on the bed, beneath the breeze, hoping to cure a sniffle,

running in a field, crossing the country in an airplane, doing the squiggle on tabletops,

naked as a jaybird, startled awake the alarm clock just rang out like a bomb blast, all’s a goner, nothing left, bringing you into the real world from other places, anyplace but here. Landing with a thud in the bed.

To work, filling that space with work, work, work. An ugly place to be at any time, at any place, in any space.

But money is needed this we know and spit on the table isn’t  an art work that would bring in any money. If you think it is and try it out you may end up filling the spaces under a bridge.

Winters cold, summer bugs they bite, not a whole lot of invite in such a world as this.

Security remove that man!

Yeah amerikkka’s promise, Russian Flags.

Well, here’s a story that definitely doesn’t speak well of the American education system. At the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), shortly before Donald Trump’s (bonkers, nonsensical, self-aggrandizing) speech, a prank genius passed out what seemed to the crowd to be pro-Trump swag.

That swag? Small red, white, and blue flags with TRUMP written across them. The problem for those CPAC attendees? They were Russian flags.

Check out the story HERE along with a video of the person responsible for this wonderful action.

Lets tell the villages to come and collect their idiots real soon. This crowd is a very good example of why some folks should not breed.

Sitting around one Saturday after last Bessy Marie said to Olga, “You know we haven’t gone out to lunch for awhile, can’t even remember when we last did as we are always eating at home on a Saturday and then take a nice little nap get up and start again at what seems like another day.” Olga had to agree we need a little break. Let’s go to the art show a town away and then have a nice lunch at that hamburger place that is all the rave. Nice that would be and we would get in not only a bit of lunch but a spiritual uplift from seeing some art. Olga added that one of the top artists in the area curated and some artists we have heard mentioned are showing in. Let’s see what is out there as one of our favorite artists is showing in that show. Off we went and two buses later arrived for lunch in a busy little café that was quickly filling up a half hour before noon.

Lunch in the freezer. Or we might have well be dining outside in Alaska.

We should have gotten up and left but where else was there to go when one has their heart set on a good hamburger. Nowhere around here in this town. Man is it cold in here, don’t they have any heat? The older lady sitting next to us gals said, “I have to eat with my coat on its so cold.” It feels like a terrible breeze coming from the kitchen door every time it opens. I’m glad I have some soup, which is okay to eat first, hopefully it will warm me up and I can get down to eating my traditional burger with Swiss Cheese and onions.” Damn thought Olga I gotta sit here and just about rub elbows with this couple at the next table. What a crowded place this is. Maybe that is where we will get the heat from each other.

Bessy looked around the dining room and notice that over near the corner no one had their coats on but every table was full. Folks must know get here early as soon as a table was empty someone came and sat down. This certainly  popular place let’s hope the food is as good as the crowds are predicting. We must have gotten there at the right time as the place was filling up rather quickly.

Well finally the waitress came, all bubbly and apologizing for the wait. “Okay, we see you are busy as a bubbling bee and cute as a button to boot,” said Bessy we had fun complaining about the cold weather in here and rubbing our toes together to keep warm. Should have worn my fur lined socks and should have brought a blanket for over my lap and a good wrap. Man eating with my coat on is not my idea of a great time.  Bessy Marie remarked, “I bet there is more heat in a Puritan Meeting House. Foot warmer rocks needed here.”

Scanning the menu Bessy Marie decided on a lunch called, I luv Pastrami, “Wow said Bessy what a great sandwich.” It was a delicious burger with nicely cooked pastrami on top ($11.00). A well grilled hard roll with creamy horseradish, lettuce tomato, raw onion and Swiss cheese. Yum, Yum what a tasty sandwich.  Olga being the traditional one in the bunch ordered a Traditional Burger ($9.00). Honey please the lettuce is limper than a old man’s dick. Nice cheese and a well cooked burger. Its funny Olga said that with all the trouble in the food industry that restaurants would still ask people is they want meat rare, medium rare or well done?  What comes with the burger? Just some coleslaw UGH a slimy mystery pile of wilted cabbage with a weak pickle juice sauce. Strangest coleslaw we had ever tried along with a run of the mill limp Dill pickle. No bite no crunch no dill in that pickle causing Olga to wonder, “Is that pickle real?” French fries were an extra charge, only $3.25 and large enough and tasty enough and we shared a basket. Cute little basket it was modeled after a fryer basket. Better than other places were we have tried the French Fries, not greasy and done just right but what a surprise that a lunch didn’t come with the fries. Now what some would call the piece de resistance was the peanut butter pie, more like a brownie. served on a blanket of confectionary sugar a few squirts of chocolate, a nice dollop of whipped cream.  If this has any peanut butter in it I am a monkey’s uncle. Where is the peanut flavor? Maybe if we sing that song, Found a Peanut some flavor will appear?  Now I’m no pie maker but I bet I could make a better pie 10 miles from the kitchen on a rainy day with only a campfire. “Oh your such an exaggerating old coot you don’t even know how to boil water,” Bessy Marie the baker, the cook, the bottle washer and all around Kitchen Queen exclaimed, setting Olga in her place with that one. “Now hold on here that is just the point I am trying to make.”

We never care for a waiter or waitress who every time he or she passes our table says, “How is everything, are you enjoying your meal?” Well snorted Olga as long as I can keep defrosting the icicles that are forming at my nose so they don’t cut into my lip with each bite I will be okay.  Why do they always ask when you have just taken a bite of lunch and are chewing. Not talking with ones mouth full is a rule that one learns way back, most likely in dining at the table 101 for very young people, along with not spitting out your food, talking with your mouth full, farting, eating with your fingers, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and proper cutting into manageable size bites meat. But we loved her anyway. We always take kindly to our working class comrades and always  make sure to give them a great tip. Our little bubbly bee received $15.00 dollars from us and she thought we had made a mistake. Just take the money and run before we change our minds due to you questioning our judgement. Buy your self something nice and we hope you don’t declare the tip, just put it in your pocket and say, “those old gals, didn’t even leave me a penny.”

We are sure that you don’t make all that much due to the crummy laws in this state concerning what a place of business may pay a waiter or waitress. (1) Now if we ruled the place we would make it a law that all workers must start at a wage of $20.00 per hour. Any tips given for a job well done is for just that and one should not need to declare them.  You know honey a waiter or waitress works hard, always running on their feet all the time, serving all types of people, keeping orders straight, smiling, being nice and taking whatever shit a customer gives out. (2)

One thing this place has going for it is the restroom. They didn’t smell which is such a drawback in any restaurant and bar. These were clean. One was not afraid to park there naked butt on the toilet seat with no worry that a bit later, a itch would start and then another or a pimple would break out or a rash on the ass is no joy of living just because one had to pee using a strange toilet.

All in all we will give this restaurant 4.5 stars outta 10.

Overall this isn’t a place we would come back to. (more…)

From Badlands

Posted: January 28, 2017 in art, For your information, Ha Ha, we dig it.

Less than 24 hours after premiering a new set of posters made exclusively for the history making Million Women’s March in Washington D.C. and New York, images of the works were banned from social media platforms Facebook and Instagram.

The works, collectively entitled New Proverbs is in part inspired by the protest posters of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, arguably one of the pioneering Christian hate speech groups in America. The New Proverbs takes visual cues from the color combinations and typographic treatments of the original church signs. But the messages do not disparage the LGBTQ community, Catholics and other Christians, Muslims, Jews, American soldiers and politicians—like the Westboro signs. Instead, the New Proverbs are directed at President Trump, who also happens to demonize the LGBTQ community, Catholics and other Christians, Muslims, Jews, American soldiers and politicians.

Images of New Proverbs premiered on social media platforms the evening of January 19th before the posters were delivered to protesters for the marches in Washington D.C. and New York on Saturday the 21st. The images gained traction online quickly and were reposted on Instagram and Facebook. But on Friday, Facebook sent a notice to Badlands stating the images did not meet “community standards” and were being removed. On Saturday afternoon, Instagram sent a notice stating a similar offense: the images do not “follow community guidelines”. (more…)

For folks back in the day when many of us were fighting the powers that be and for many of us who are still fighting here are 4 versions of the song Love Me I’m A Liberal. We begin with Phil Ochs who wrote the original and we know as well as the next gal that among the many political persuasions the liberals are the most shady. Sometimes I look out and think that yes dear heart they have indeed taken over. The anti-establishment counter cultural establishment the liberals here in this neck of the woods, are saluted as they work their work.

So many  of our former gay revolutionaries and comrades call the president by his first name. That’s how cozy they want to be with those in power. We just look at them and think, now if that were a white GOP president doing the same thing, he would be damned to all tar-nation by the  liberal gays. Blowing in the wind like the snow outside my window.

Phil Ochs


Kevin Devine

Evan Greer