Toons Gone Feral » Colleen Nelson

Walking The Planck

admin — Wed, 12 May 2010 23:26:35 +0000

That guest artist again, since she insists.

A Tale Of Two Tarps

admin — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 14:20:25 +0000

This is a tale of two “tarps”. But it is also a tale of two collaborators, Colleen and myself. The Nelson line is unmistakable and very strong. But what makes it a tale of two artists is that I think we see it in very different ways. If I understand Colleen right, she sees it as a tale of people who suffer and of people who are greedy, callous and oblivious in the face of that suffering. So far, so good. No doubt about that. (Well, maybe there is. Angela?) Does that mean that if we had better people running banks it would be different? I think this is where we diverge. To me, this is a tale of how the gears run in the machine we call our society. Banks and the making of money have very high leverage in this machine. Hunger, disease, poverty, not so much. Some 80 or 90 years ago, W.E.B. DuBois pointed out that since the early 1800′s we have had the knowledge and installed industrial capacity to feed, clothe and house everybody. (With population growth, that now hangs in the balance.) At some point, that has to become the central problem — not “Why don’t we do it?”, but “How can we re-order the machine so we do?”

Well, that’s art. Lotta different views.

Emily Again

admin — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 15:35:42 +0000

I suppose everyone has their own Emily. This beautiful drawing is Colleen’s response to Why do they shut me out of heaven? Where I see spiritual despair, spiritual starvation, she sees Emily Rising, Emily Fulfilled, Emily the Beautiful. Go figure!

A Poem With A Mutant Snow Flake

admin — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 23:54:31 +0000

Colleen sends a poem and a do-it-yourself mutant snowflake.

Ode To Snow…

Pristine white there is no sun

No golden photon to emblazen

Absolute all color pure reflection

It blinds my every rod and cone

Blue cup clutched I step into that light

Crunched beneath the waver of my boot

Leaving broken edges no less bright

Behind me

Rustling snow from every branch

Hardly waiting for my retreat

The brave ones take the chance

Cardinal red splashed

Black grey junco

Cluster at the feeder

Shards of yellow bill

Eagerly pecked between snowflakes

I stand, breath white on white

Seed hulls scatter at my feet

I ponder thus:

St. Francis never had a plastic cup

Nor plastic sack of seed

Nor heated room to venture forth from

Still – when I fill the feeder

No less wonder makes my moment

Free from that disgust

That drains the living not connected

By the bridge of life

To Life

L’Chaim

Horace’s New Year Word Contest

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 00:38:48 +0000

Inspired by his long meditative practice (called Scrabble), Horace has created a new word for a New Year. Let’s see, that’s J-8, A-1, well, you figure it out. But what does it mean?

So, that’s our contest. What does it mean? Don’t forget etymology and pithy phrases. Even better, can you draw it? Wonderful and mysterious prizes, yet to be determined.

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Colleen contributes this rare portrait. Recent scholarship suggests it is none other than Benny Goodduck.

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It is a special pleasure to welcome Special Guest Artist Helen Gaims. Helen, take it away:

The Liebergrinch

admin — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 16:59:19 +0000

Special Guest Artist: Colleen Nelson

Ms. Colleen Is Pissed Off At Rush Limbaugh

admin — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 17:45:57 +0000

Special Guest Artist Colleen Nelson is pissed off at Rush Limbaugh. And why shouldn’t she be? The guy is a freakin’ tumor.

Foreclosure

admin — Sun, 17 May 2009 15:47:06 +0000

The Foreclosures of the Apocalypse by guest artist Colleen Nelson

Funny how the housing crisis seems to have disappeared from the front page. I suppose that means everyone’s back in their house, right?

Of course, “housing crisis” is a misnomer. The houses were fine. They just stood there, ready to keep people warm and dry.

If the houses were fine, where was the crisis? In the made-up stuff. We call it finance, politics. It’s all belief, a collective agreement to imagine a binding web, a collective imagining that escapes our control, fantasy stuff. We’d call it make-believe if we saw it clearly. “Let’s play Capitalism!” But it takes on a life of its own. We don’t know how to stop it. So every day, its consequences are no less than life and death.

Nation: Beware what you imagine.

Those Memos Again

admin — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 16:15:15 +0000

“Dirty Laundry” by special guest artist Colleen Nelson.

A lot has happened since we first started bloviating about this. Depending on your view of Obama, he either a) Tried to sanitize the situation by releasing the memos but promising not to prosecute CIA agents who tortured “in good faith” (!!!) or b) knew that once the memos were out, the shit would hit the fan wthout it looking like he threw it. Regardless of his intentions, the shit has hit the fan, and a good thing, too. We are, finally, a nation where this kind of shit will not stay swept under the rug and good for us!

I’d like to put in my 2 cents here: The anti-investigation crowd is framing this as “looking forward” vs. “retribution”. This is pure spin. If you like it, you call it “justice” or “accountability”. If you don’t like it, you call it “retribution.” The point is not retribution — as emotionally satisfying as that might be. The point is deterrence. And deterrence is “looking forward”. It’s looking forward to 2017 or 2035 when some yet-unkown President is once again tempted to grab un-Constitutional powers. I want him (or her) and his henchmen (or women) to stop and think. I want them all to think, “Wait a minute. We could go to jail for this.” That, my friends, is looking forward.