Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat, a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It’s his way of telling whether or not I’m dead. If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am He’ll think of something. He settles on my chest, breathing his breath of burped-up meat and musty sofas, purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat, not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door, declaring war. It’s all about sex and territory, which are what will finish us off in the long run. Some cat owners around here should snip a few testicles. If we wise hominids were sensible, we’d do that too, or eat our young, like sharks. But it’s love that does us in. Over and over again, He shoots, he scores! and famine crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits thirty below, and pollution pours out of our chimneys to keep us warm. February, month of despair, with a skewered heart in the centre. I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries with a splash of vinegar. Cat, enough of your greedy whining and your small pink bumhole. Off my face! You’re the life principle, more or less, so get going on a little optimism around here. Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.

crabs

rip to the person who understood this comic the most

Gustave Caillebotte - "Yerres, Effect of Rain", 1875. Oil on canvas. The Art Institute of Chicago.

Yuzu Kato: Borrowing from the Tiger's Majesty (2022)

Art by: galactixy_illustrations on Instagram

he was so real for this. i really must

I could go on

Do not toss your humanity for this empire, recognize what it is, and the human beings it is hurting. Work to understand how we got here and what to do from leftists.

Fascists will 💖 be shot💖

Poster spotted in Olympia, WA