I’m Speaking.

Dumb as a rock, Donald calls me. Horrible and incompetent. Totally failed and insignificant. (Projecting much?) Crazy—“though not as crazy as Nancy Pelosi.” (You just can’t help yourself, can you, Motormouth? Maybe you are too old for the job.)
     His minions aren’t holding back. I’m not grateful enough. I’m just collecting a check. I’m a diversity hire. And they don’t like my laugh. You know what all their dog whistling’s about. This, from church-going, “family values” folk singing hallelujahs for rapture.
     They are losing their shit. You think they’re bothered now? Just wait till they see my running mate.

Inspired by Cooling Off. Image of Kamala Harris (in 2020) by Chandan Khanna/AFP via Getty Images

Cooling Off

The kitchen table was so close to the fridge that, during family dinners, whenever she felt a hot flash coming on she’d pause in the middle of her diatribe about politics or global warming or ungrateful teenagers, and, without getting up, turn, open the bottom drawer and stick her head in the freezer. Instant relief. Everybody would laugh. But she didn’t mind. She figured it made menopause an everyday thing—not something to hide or never mention. Besides, those cooling-off pauses were useful for changing her words or the mood at the table. Perhaps politicians should adopt a similar practice.

Inspired by Hot & Heavy. Photo of Nancy’s fridge by Nancy.

Hot & Heavy

As we finished up our morning trek, I was about to internally ignite from the stifling humidity and my waning estrogen. I yanked down my zipped tank to air out the fiery biscuits when hubby shot out his arm in a Seinfeld stopped-short-move to shield the girls.

You know I can go topless I retorted, like that sweaty, middle-aged well-upholstered hairy guy that just ran by us.

     And I thought to myself, I wonder what it would be like to go about my business in this world, half-naked and confident with no fear of being objectified, debased or assaulted. 

Inspired by this week’s weather and Seinfeld. Image by eightonesix.

Pantone 124

One day the owners of Rambunctious Software got their hands on a colour chart and decided that their official corporate colour would be Pantone 124. And since, back then, they were still doing it all pretty much themselves, everything they purchased for the company going forward was chosen to match their new favourite colour, but not quite. All this, of course, would eventually end up driving the new graphic designer to distraction, because not only were the colours they’d chosen entirely inconsistent, the closest thing they all did match, to his jaundiced eye, was the distinctive colour of baby shit.

Inspired by Hugh Flung Poo. Image by the author, with some help from Mediamodifier.

Hugh Flung Poo

“Oh my God, it’s worse than I thought!” This from Dan’s co-worker, after he saw a picture of the tiles I bought for our bathroom reno. Porcelain white subways with a distressed, belle epoch-serre-lived-through-the-war treatment. Dan hated them, so called in a second opinion.

     I told him he’d been ruined by all the pablummy-greize rooms he’s worked on. 

     But the coup de grâce was his: “Well, there’s a reason they don’t sell toilets with antiqued brown glazing.”

After that, I couldn’t unsee the ersatz shit smears, so we returned them, but kept a few to tut-tut my execrable misstep. 

Inspired by A Statement by the Artists Collectively Known as Barksy. Loft White Glazed 3x6″ Tiles from the Home Hardware Building Centre.

A Statement by the Artists Collectively Known as Barksy

I’ve come to consider what Duke and I do as performance art. Duke produces the initial piece; I handle installation. Duke is singular of purpose; I’m the one who thinks outside the bin. Our typical work (Panel 1) is conventional, though its street placement is controversial. Panel 2 showcases some of Duke’s solo work. Panel 3 is one of my favourites; I call it “Why knot?“ (And why indeed, when there’s so much open space in the neighbourhood?) Sometimes (Panel 4) we’re just two artists trying to collaborate, and the end result doesn’t come together. Allow us our artistic freedom. 

Libertarian pooformance art images captured by Ron Thompson. Inspired by Steamed Buns and stuff on my shoe.

Steamed Buns

Tail end of the night, I cheekily start shaking my booty on the dance floor with a cutie patootie, up to my keister in beautiful people way younger than me. This asshole butts in. Fundament-ally uncool, I say. 

“Stick it where the sun don’t shine!” he replies. 

I shove hard. He lands on his tuchus. Pretty derrieres flee the scene. The bouncer shoves us out the backdoor. Bummed and rump-led, our backsides hit the pavement. We laugh. 

“Peckish?” he asks. 

I shrug. “I could eat.” 

“I know this all-night Chinese take-out place." 

“Hell yes, I'd love some nice steamed buns.” 

Inspired by Some Butts.. Photo by JJ Wong.