My Cartoon

I got The Old Sig because I figured that if I had to actually use a gun I’d probably never see it again, and I didn’t want to lose my historic 1943 GI Colt, a touchstone-relic, like that.
So then I bought another Sig and then another, following the reductive equation of two=one, one=none…until that work was complete.Then I made the mistake of touching The Philosopher’s Gun.
We find our way rather blindly in life, tumbling through the haze of reality while our neurons respond to the shape of scents, a stew of chemicals that unlock receptors and trigger sensations from salty to sweet, metallic to acid. Strands of our DNA twist and writhe in a long dance of experiences, absorbing and remembering physical sensations that fit ancient designs scraped in harsh stone beneath a leaden sky – of skeleton keys unlocking a magical world just beyond our grasp. The thick and ancient Lizard Brain is constantly flicking its tongue to find a pathway out of danger, a way through all the chemical signals to the heart of I WANT and MINE...
Touching it rendered me mute, blind, and deaf to reason.  The receptors in my arm all clicked shut at the same time when my grip closed on the textured cocobolo panels. I was doomed until I had it. SHINY!  My Precious – I had become the Gollum of Guns.
Now I don’t even want to shoot anybody at all.  If I did I’d just buy a Glock.
Instead I want to launch perfectly arcing golden tumblers of lead-elixer that drip faint whisps of copper and nickel through distant white hoops beneath a sun drenched sky and the shadows of towering clouds…while keeping a safe distance from 40-foot flying crocodiles.
The cobra is an ancient beast of the forest.  I have seen a skeleton that was close to forty foot long and wrapped all around the upper cove-molding of a small museum.  The jaws that un-hinge to swallow man-sized prey were still considerable, a shoulder-width across.  It would have stood ten-feet tall in the jungle path, with the rest coiled beneath itself.  Poised. No wonder it was worshiped as a God by the early settlers of a wild, jungle land.

About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

8 thoughts on “My Cartoon

  1. Ted – I really got to get to some barbecues, but more to the point I gotta get used-to it!

    MidwestChick – Thanx Dear! Spa-days don't help *me* much anymore so I compensate elsewhere.

    kfg – Thanks for both! I leaned hard on the Photoshop-button.


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