No Stones

Portis, originally uploaded by funrama.

A quick drawing I did for my Doctor.

St. Paul, Minn. — If you've never had a kidney stone, they hurt a lot...

"It's worse than giving birth to twins without an epidural," says Dr. Andrew Portis. "It's worse than putting a nail gun through your hand. It's worse than breaking your leg. And one guy told us it's worse than cutting off his finger with a buzz saw...."

Hark, Oh Joyous Christmastide has been cast a-down upon us!

It's that time of year again when artists stop making art and blogging and everything to see the blazing yule before us.

And my steady girlfriend made a house. We're strange and weird and that leads to creativity!



This is what I'll be doing tonight, but beware, this will compel you to doubt the purpose of all that is good and wholesome and you will need to shower yourself immediately to wash the hate and fear away.

And..a song!..

Local 11 Toronto

Local 11 Toronto promo, originally uploaded by funrama.

Wait for it.

Paintings

I've got some paintings in that Huge Art Fair in Miami this weekend which is sorta crazy if you think about it.

Next year, I hope to do a whole new collection of paintings and color work (No really, I mean it this time). Here's a Slideshow of my Paintings. These are all the unsold paintings still available. These all have to go, because I'm going to do all new exciting work (No really, I mean it this time.) Email me for prices and sizes and frame if you're interested. Some of these aren't even close to being cheap and some have reasonable prices. They make wonderful Christmas presents or tokens of affection.

One Of Many Very Quick Megan Commissions

Megan Leaves, originally uploaded by funrama.

A comment on "Jass" music

Katharina van Seethinbottom reports her first harrowing encounter with "Jass" music

As my heart pounded and I covered my nose with my handkerchief to prevent inhaling the miasmatic air, we passed a row of insalubrious establishments. And then a strange noise wafted into my ear from one of the drinking-halls. I daren’t even call it music; rather, ‘twas a series of sounds and – oh, I despise the very word! – rhythms strung together without heed to form or development.

“Whatever is that heinous noise?” I asked the driver, momentarily ceasing the beating.

“They call it jass, madam,” he whimpered in his brogue, “Please, madam, please stop whippin’ me.”



Tavern on West Seventh Street east of Randolph, possibly Michael Leirich Saloon, 949 West Seventh, St. Paul.