The Bird who Thought too much

You have to be always drunk. 
That's all there is to it—it's the only way. 
So as not to feel the horrible burden of time
 that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, 
you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? 
Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish.
 But be drunk.  

(excerpt from "Be Drunk" by Charles Baudelaire)
(Notebook page, watercolor)

The Big Terrific

Mexican Wrestler "La Gran Fabuloso" did not go quietly after his untimely death during the Estadio Olimpica's main event on July 28th, 1962.

Approximately nine minutes into the bout, a  folding chair crashed into Fabulosa and he fell against a  poorly padded turnbuckle that seriously gashed his forehead.   The greatest champion Lucha Libra had ever known bled to death screaming to the uncomprehending crowd,  "Estoy herido!  Estoy muy lastimado!"   "I am hurt!  I am really hurt!"

A month later, as matches were again to be held, arena workers discovered a reddish liquid that kept seeping up from the corner of the ring.    No matter how much they scrubbed, the peculiar substance always returned. 

A local priest was summoned and after making a thorough examination he stated that he believed it was Fabuloso's blood, and that it still ran red from the turnbuckle that took his life.  

As word spread,  fans from all over Mexico flocked to the arena to see and touch the blood of  their fallen hero.   But even with the Priest's statement and hundreds of eyewitness accounts, the Catholic Church dismissed the happening -- blaming an unscrupulous promotor with swabbing the corner with chicken blood just to up ticket sales.

Years later, long after the the promotor had been jailed and most everyone had forgotten about La Gran Fabulosa, something very odd happened.    The Olimpico was being demolished to make way for a new arena when construction workers, using a crane, pulled up a turnbuckle post and suddenly gallons of blood  began to spew from the moorings.    

In reports forensic experts concluded the blood was indeed human but could not verify where it had come from.  

                                                            (water color, acrylic on board  12" x 22")

  

Dream Operator

Here's some stuff that's been floating through my dreams the last few nights.   This weekend I painted them up and glued them together. 

 

Better to paint it than to tell  it.

If you doubt how boring your dreams are, just listen to someone talk about theirs. 

(Acrylic paint, scrap wood, paint can lid, Elmer's glue, aprox. 16"x 22")

Catch as Catch Can

A PRAYER TO FARMER BURNS
 (the last Amateur wrestler)

Kneeling at your blessed feet and grabbing your blessed collar and elbow, we beseech you Oh Farmer
to grant us your singleness of purpose and indifference to the opinions of others.

As you so lived, let us keep our aim true while honestly and without effort
 not give one shit to what others may think.

May this grace be granted by the power of your scissor lock,
the wisdom of your full nelson and the virtue of your arm bar.

Amen 
(15"x30" oil, acrylic, tempera on board)

The Joys of Childhood

At the grocery store I walked past a sweaty, little kid (eight; dirt rings around his neck) staring at the candy shelf maybe fifteen feet behind his huge Mom who was shopping up ahead.   Suddenly she stomps back down the aisle, yanks him hard by the arm and yells, "Do you wanna get stolen!?"

I swear it looked like he wanted to say yes.


(sketchbook page)

John Quincy Adams

I was hiking last week in Griffith park when I saw a kindly looking older man pulling a metal detector out of  his car. To be social and because I was curious,  I stopped and asked him what was the best thing he'd ever found.   He immediately wheeled and angrily barked, "I don't want to get into it!"  Then spit on the ground in disgust and marched away with his equipment.  

As I backed away slowly I remembered this sixty-something guy in Yoga warning me, "from forty on you have to work like hell every day not to become an angry old fuck." 

 I think he's absolutely right.

                                                            (Private collection of  Thomas D. Hird.  10x15 Acrylic, board)

                                                 

   

Hello, my name is...

The "Dunning-Kruger Effect" states that our incompetence masks our ability to recognize our incompetences, or, in layman's terms, why dumbasses think they're so smart.  It also completely explains politicians.

(Acrylic on board 30 x 30)