“Clock Activated. Red Castle. Green Castle.”

Oh, all the conspiracy theorists are having themselves a little meme war, which they think will set the stage for a video which will take down all those nefarious liberal elites, who are busy with demonic activity, and doing horrible things to children, all this stuff they just know is true, but there’s never even the slightest scintilla of evidence. They are now positive that “the storm” is going to break.

Conspiracy theorists tapped in to “The Storm” have declared today to be the day in which they “post a continuous barrage of memes” in order to prepare the nation for the release of a video that they believe will serve as the “nail in many coffins” for liberal politicians who are involved in a massive alleged pedophile cult.

The Storm is a conspiracy theory that has captured the imaginations of “Pizzagate” truthers who believe that the highest ranking liberal political and business leaders are engaged in a secret satanic pedophile ring dedicated to trafficking and abusing children. At the helm of The Storm sits an anonymous poster on 4chan and then 8chan message boards known only as “Q.” Many followers of The Storm believe “Q” to be a high-ranking government official whom President Trump has ordered to leave cryptic clues—dubbed “crumbs” by conspiracy theorists—about supposed behind-the-scene efforts to unravel the alleged pedophile ring. An archive site of QAnon posts has documented nearly 1,000 cryptic messages since late October of last year.

Since the theory began in October, hordes of people have been engaged with it. YouTube videos about “QAnon” regularly rack up hundreds of thousands of views. The most dedicated participants in the conspiracy theory, including Infowars Washington bureau chief Jerome Corsi, spend hours per day in Discord chat rooms attempting to decode posts written by “Q.”

I don’t know who is behind the whole Q business, and I can’t say I much care, but they must be laughing their ass off on how easy it is to manipulate these people. You can read and see more of the full conspiratorial stew at RWW.

Stephen Shames.

Stephen Shames photograph archive.

The Briscoe Center has acquired the photographic archive of Stephen Shames. Perhaps best known for his role as the Black Panther Party’s photographer between 1967 and 1973, Shames has also documented many political and social issues over a 50-year career.

“Shames has used his camera to document the intimate histories of a wide range of subjects, including black political activism in the Bay Area, everyday life in New York City, and child poverty across America,” said Don Carleton, executive director of the Briscoe Center. “His archive will not only be preserved here at the center, it will be actively utilized in our mission to foster exploration of the American past, which is why a selection of his work prints is currently on display in the center’s exhibit hall.”

[…]

“As a young man I was privileged to have inside access to the Black Panther Party. Later, as a photojournalist and artist I traveled the world and embedded myself in the lives of many living on the edges of society,” said Stephen Shames. “I hope students and scholars can use these archives to enter worlds they cannot see in person, but can experience through historic photography. I learned a great deal from the people I photographed. I hope others can expand their knowledge and understanding of our world through my work.”

An exhibit of Stephen Shames’s photography is now on display at the Briscoe Center, University of Texas at Austin. You can read more here.

Finding The Perfect, Paint Worthy Egg.

Sandro Botticelli, “The Birth of Venus,” tempera on canvas (c. 1486, via Wikimedia).

Sandro Botticelli, “The Birth of Venus,” tempera on canvas (c. 1486, via Wikimedia).

Egg tempera! A time honoured technique. Many artists have at least played with egg tempera, even if they later chose a more modern and convenient medium. Karen Chernick at Hyperallergic has an article on how to source the very best egg you can for making your paints.

…But there’s also a centuries-old artistic tradition of painting using the eggs themselves. Egg tempera was a ubiquitous technique during the early Italian Renaissance, when it was considered the standard for portable easel paintings. Botticelli, Raphael, and Andrew Wyeth all painted with tempera. Today, the quick-drying medium, which employs a 50/50 blend of egg yolk and color pigment, is mostly in use by a brave few contemporary practitioners (who must not mind the smell of aging eggs in the studio).

These seasoned artists know what to look for in the perfect paint-worthy egg. Some of them, such as Mary Frances Dondelinger, have been known to use hundreds of eggs a month. Others are regulars at particular farmers’ markets, or swear by a specific brand of store-bought eggs. Just in case you’re not able to raise your own hen (which most agree is the very best option), here’s your guide to sourcing the ideal egg, according to six contemporary egg tempera painters.

The full story is at Hyperallergic.

A Few Spring Flowers

I took my mother yesterday to visit her sister, my favourite aunt. She has a really exquisite garden, but unfortunately the spring is not that advanced here yet to see it at its best. And I also have forgotten my camera, so I could only make pictures with my phone. Which sucks, but I think they still are worth looking at. Click for full size.
White CameliaRed Camelia Cyclamen Lila Crocus Yellow Crocus No Idea What Plant This Is Pink Erica White Erica

©Charly, all rights reserved.

Jack’s Walk

Today Jack and I went out to the country for our walk. It was another dull and chilly day, but we found this lovely horse to talk to. He wouldn’t come closer because of Jack, but we did slowly walk the fence line together. The horse has a bit of a crook in his left back leg with a slight limp, but he wanted to keep us with us and we walked together for quite a while. It was very peaceful.

©voyager, all rights reserved

Cancer Chronicles 15: The Takeover.

The chemo pump.

A familiar sight, I’m attached to the chemo pump again. Chemo brain is in full force, so if this post is disjointed, that would be why. I’m also having some motor problems with my right hand, so there may be may typos. (Motor problems thanks to the oxaliplatin). Just how much cancer changes and takes over you life has been a thread in these chronicles from the start, and sometimes that sense lowers, and you don’t feel it as much, and other times, it feels like it’s bashing over the head, pile-driving you into the ground. Yesterday was one of those days, left me frustrated, annoyed as fuck, and completely out of control of my own life.

Because it’s cancer, and presumably, you don’t want to die yet, you end up at the mercy of, and under the thumb of medical and insurance. Last week, I agreed to Neulasta injections so I would not be pushed back on chemo anymore. For whatever reason, my oncologist left out some rather vital information about this fucking process, and he will be hearing about that in two weeks. Not living in town, I was not about to come back into town on Fridays to have my pump detached, I do that myself. Now I find out that the Neulasta cannot be administered until the chemo pump is detached. Neulasta comes in the form of patch with a  sub-q needled, timed to deliver medication 26 hours after the chemo pump is detached. It’s a peel and stick:

So, I should be able to do this at home too, right? Wrong. Because it costs $6,000 a shot, the insurance companies have a rider that it must be administered at a clinic or hospital. Here’s one big FUCK YOU to fucking insurance companies, you all fucking suck. What in the fuck do they think I’d do with the damn thing? Sell it to a black market? Feed it to my dog? Flush it down the toilet? Well, one thing is for certain, you can’t trust a patient with it, oh no.

So, this week, that means our schedules get all manner of fucked up, have to go back in this Friday for less than 5 minutes worth of ‘treatment’, and for that, we get to waste time, pay for fuel, and have to register for the less than 5 fucking minutes, which means handing over another $25.00 copay. We’re being $25.00 dollared to death. Naturally, we tried to change the schedule so we could work things out so at least Rick wouldn’t be burning up more vacation days and losing work time. Could we schedule for Monday? No, because people don’t seem to think working on Mondays is cool. We can’t switch to Mondays until Cycle 6. Maybe.  Anyway you look at it, we’re getting screwed over with the sharp end of the stick.

I could feel the thin thread fraying and getting ready to snap. You lose control over your life from the moment you hear ‘Cancer’. That’s it, you’re sucked into Cancerland, and there’s nothing you can do, and pretty much all of it sucks fucking dirt. There’s no good place to discharge all the anger and frustration, either. It just ends up randomly leaking out all over the place. I really have to get that throwing wall set up. I could smash a whole store full of glass right now.

It’s also a major annoyance to see how much rural people get screwed over. Sanford keeps expanding, they’ve about eaten up a good portion of downtown Bismarck, but will they expend any fucking money on satellite clinics? No. You live rural, you get one big fuck you from hospitals. They don’t give one shit about how far you have travel, or how often. Oh yes, you can apply for an apartment in Bismarck, but this assumes people have no lives whatsoever in ruralistan. Around 50% of the people I’ve met in chemo live way out from Bismarck, anywhere from 1 to 6 hours out. Even when Sanford does bother to try and set up elsewhere, like the hospital they’ve started in Dickinson, they don’t have an oncologist, and they most likely simply won’t do oncology there, people will be referred to Bismarck. And while a hospital is needed out Dickinson way, I’d rather see satellite clinics, which could at least deal with things like Neulasta, so people wouldn’t have to travel so damn far for five fucking minutes. It’s yet another reminder that above anything, hospitals are a business, and no matter how they represent they are all about patients, they aren’t. At least not the rural ones.

Even with all the noises that would be made about how they can’t do satellite clinics because blah blah bureaucratic bullshit, why not an outreach program, to train local physicians so they could do the 5 minute crap, like detach pumps and stick a fucking patch on your arm? I’d be delighted if I could get this shit done in New Salem or Glen Ullin.

I suppose I’ll get back to painting, if I can manage to hold a brush.

ETA: oh gods, that fucking Oxali. I went  out to put seed and suet out for the birds studio side. It’s not even terrible cold out, 35F or so,  and my fingers are numb, as are my lips, and the cold hit my throat so hard, it almost seized up and went straight into my chest, making even shallow breathing hurt like hell.