More Bohemians At Large!!!

It wasen’t easy, but somehow I’ve managed to scrounge up some more of my favorite people.


In the museum of on it? They made their choice!

   Amongst the baggers and taggers of our streets, a very special kind of punk does roam. He is does not concern himself with the crudely scrawled genitalia of lesser men, oh no, he is a graffiti artist.

Imitation is the surest form of vandalism.

With aerosol cans shaken and ready he sets out to conquer his urban canvas – etching out visions of little green men and claw snapping hipster lizards. Quickly his arms race across the walls – completing in mere minutes a masterpiece that is soon to fade beneath the chicken scratch of jealous philistines. Like his work he to will vanish, quickly as he appeared, in a cacophony of color.

If one was to catch him by his capacious pants, and look him in the eye, would there be a face at which to shake one’s finger? Or merely the deeper shadows of his hoodie? Perhaps, but first you must catch him.

He went this through this door, officier, I swear!


Will, be a mermaid, for money.

All it takes to be a werewolf is a lost razor and a hygiene problem, all it takes to be a wizard is a beard and a book of spells, all it takes to be a pirate is a little copyright infringement, and all it takes to be a vampire is a strong stomach and a complete lack of shame. To be a mermaid however, requires the hard work and dedication of a true professional.

They may not be the fastest fish in the sea but they are a joy to watch, dawning their unique hand crafted scale mail to brave the waves.

Few can comprehend the courage it takes to plunge oneself into open water with naught but a ridiculous outfit standing between wild nature and tender human fiddly bits.

Once there stood a submarine theater in San Marcos Texas where these elusive creatures could perform in safety, but with the days of Aquarena Springs long gone and the whereabouts of Ralph, the swimming pig, uncertain, the mermaids of the world have swam south, perhaps to greener pastures in Australia’s colorful reefs, or perhaps they have gone west – to seek a contract with Disney.

Whatever the case I shall miss you, you strange semi-aquatic entrepreneurs. I wish you luck upon your long journey to wherever that may be – follow the tuna to never land, and send me a pair of long seaweed stockings when your get there.


If you love your billbord. Set it free. If comes back to you, it’s yours. If it dosn’t, it was never meant to be.

  Just when society thought it was safe, to flaunt its various discrepancies to the disillusioned masses. These guys crawled out of those very masses.

Before they intervened, our public spaces were enslaved to the almighty dollar, forced to cower behind the obvious lies of the man.

Now a light has been shined, through all the glamour and hype – a door that can never be closed. “We too, can make signs!” scream the people – “but we’d rather fool with yours!”

Now that liquor conglomerate falters before pouring its single malt into that vaguely phallic bottle, and ruthlessly edits its ads in search of ambiguous, four-letter words. More often than not, that drilling company won’t even try to apologize for the spill, knowing how easily it all rhymes with fish kill.

Authorities warn businesses to be mindful of suggestive imagery – small, easy to reach, text, and pickles that can possibly be painted brown. They have also issued a formal Ad-visory for the following products; Smuckers jam, Schlitz and Pabst beers, S & M family outlets, and Blimpie subs. Target of course, has proven to be an obvious – well, you know.

Failing to comply with the Ad-visory can have devastating consequences. Their latest insurrection dealt a grievous blow to a beloved fast food franchise, who had refused to take the threat seriously. Now we all how easy it is to super size a clown.


I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone that these activities are a crime.

Perpetrators can face up to a week in jail and have their poetic licenses revoked.

Bohemians At Large

Warning! These colorful nonconformists or coming! They are not quite anarchists, not quite hippies. Like hipsters you probably wouldn’t have heard of them, but the threat is real. Report any you have seen.They are armed and dexterous. More are born every instant and I strive to capture each and every one!


Tea cozy? Hows about a tree cozy bi-och!

Citizens be warned, what started as a minor invasion of colorful critters has now become a blight that is sweeping the nation. Tired of rejection at the hands of ungrateful nieces and nephews, disgruntled aunties are laying siege to our public places with intent to clothe the world in their tacky creations. What’s worse – they are teaching this outrageous haberdashery to our youth, who in turn defile our sacred monuments with unflattering lumpy sweaters and blasphemous woolen caps.

“I had no idea they’d use it for evil!” Screams Miss Flutterbe as her coven of quilters are questioned for their involvement in peddling this practice to impressionable teens. Authorities advise citizens to be mindful of the ever mounting cost to homes and businesses. That now must be dry-cleaned weekly.

Note, that this is not some yarn I’m spinning – it’s all (somewhat) true. Just Google Urban Knitting and be awestruck by the devastation these crafty cultists have unleashed upon the establishment, and marvel at the audacity it takes to drag a once wholesome activity into the depths of utter caous.

I’ve recently been informed that the days of this scourge are numbered. The U.S. Government – being the party poopers that they are, have released trillions of clothes moths upon affected cities. To this offenders have replied, “Crochet!”


Is it Dr. Livingston or something more sinister?


Picture this, you’re a bored security guard in a creepy, old building no one is ever likely to use again, or lord forbid, some disillusioned soul who has sworn off the man forever in favor of a more liberal drinking schedule.

You hear footsteps echo through the empty rooms of your latest dive. An owl flies from the gutted rafters. It’s silent wings scattering the dust of fifty years. You hear the click of a gun being cocked, and wait in silence for your uninvited guest to show himself.

Surprise, it’s just some guy with a camera. “Hi I was just – taking some pictures.” He says. Yeah right.

Its been happening more and more in the darkest most forgotten corners of our communities. Persons calling themselves Urban Explorers are stirring up the sands of time and baring witness to history.

These intrepid rouges risk life and litigation to bring us the truth behind that creepy house on the hill, that once grand hotel, and that mysterious and dangerous network of tunnels beneath our feet. One may read of their exploits on many astounding websites – that shall remain nameless – for they have sworn me to secrecy.

To find them must one simply explore.



I have planted the petunias, SIR!

The efforts of environmentalists to prevent deforestation has largely failed, but these tenacious tree huggers have teamed up with the worlds vegans to start a new Re – forestation movement. Old news, you say? What If I said they intended to do it smack dab in the middle of town?

Their weapons are shovels and pitchforks, saplings and bags of manure, and bombs. Yes I said bombs, seed bombs. These quaint little pods are often poured into gumball machines, for obnoxious children to purchase and plant. The pods contain what are purported to be ‘wild grasses’ which we all know to be a fancy name for weeds.

Dude run! It’s a sequoia!

“Who will protect our golf courses from of the ravages of ailanthus and buttercups? Who will keep the riff raff away frow our roses? Who will tell little Susie that those dandelions are not ‘real’ flowers?” cries the public as vegans launch phase two of the plan.

Yes sir – ee, the veggies are coming. Soon we shall be so deep in broccoli that we’ll have to eat our way through just to reach a McDonalds. Chances of having any more room for chicken nuggets are slim. (One starts to see a method to this madness.)

Slowly it creeps across empty lots and vacant parks, up the walls and balconies and into our homes, tempting us with the sent of tomato flavored tomatoes, and the shade of its all-encompassing oaks. Resistance is futile!

(eats tomato.)


Insiders advise activists to be wary of food grown in contaminated soil.

A prehensile tail may be useful, but it will make you a lot easier to catch.