Hey, hey, hey. . . KATE's OKAY!

 

I wasn't going to deal with this at all, except. . . it's been a slow week, I've been sick with the double-whammy of a nasty headcold and fierce spring allergies, and what the hell. I needed a distraction from "it", which is what I now call the so-called-Sussexes, those supremely boring ex-royals in which I've completely lost interest. But then this popped up!

After not being seen in public since Christmas, amid the usual swirling rumors about what the hell has happened to her, THIS photo of Kate Middleton with the kids was released, and right away everyone thought it was fishy.

Which it is.

A few teeny-tiny mistakes were made in the photoshopping - and yes, indeed, the image was photoshopped TWICE according to the "metadata", the digital information every public photo now yields.  With Adobe, which is the one I use, for God's sake - the equivalent of manipulating a photo using your thumbs.

Worse than that, the news agencies looked at it and immediately became alarmed, then "killed" it (pulled it from all the papers, wire services, etc.) - something that generally only happens with suspicious images from North Korea or the Oval Office.  So what was actually going on? All too soon, a very lame-sounding "apology" was issued implying Kate herself had botched it up. Which is, to quote the Brits, "not bloody likely".

This has led to some alarming theories, not to mention some highly-entertaining memes on social media, along with newly-fired-up speculation about where and how Kate actually is (IF she is - some say the worst has happened already). Now rumors are surging to the forefront about Prince William's affair with his old flame, Rose Whateverhername is, and the fact she is now pregnant with their SECOND love child.

I told you it was weird.

I must say that Kate makes a rather handsome man, which is more than I can say about most "trans" men who still look like women. That beard is rather striking. But not "manipulated", surely?

But this is my personal favorite. No doubt naughty Kate cut-and-pasted this one, late at night, with her thumbs, just in time for Mother's Day, which in Britain is on March 10 for some reason (and the brilliant green leaves and grass in the background added yet another element of unreality to the thing).

But never fear, I've found a number of charming photos which prove that there's nothing to see here at all. I've titled my gif presentation:  Hey, Hey, Hey. . . KATE'S OKAY!

And if she really DID photoshop these, she has obviously learned from her mistakes.

I'm in a Pogo state of mind. . .

 

Today I'm just in a Pogo state of mind. Hardly anyone remembers Pogo now, as even in his heyday in the 1950s, it was a sort of niche market. Though Walt Kelly's artwork was brilliant and sometimes breathtaking, people complained about all that darned TEXT. The things those characters SAID, the way they talked with each other and expressed things about life that were so neatly nutshelled, no one really appreciated how brilliantly succinct they were. 

He made it look easy.

This one is a personal favorite because it makes us laugh, and then it makes us - oh. 

Oh, so true.

Right now, the Church of Pogo is about the only religion I have, and the only one that hasn't totally disillusioned or even damaged me. How to say it in a handful of words? Human beings have taken something which MIGHT have been a wonderful concept, and utterly poisoned it. We just do not know how to access a state of grace, which to me is what "God" represents.


But even then, Pogo knew.

This one, perhaps the most famous Pogo-ism of all, has kind of a strange backstory. Kelly was invited to speak at some sort of event, and to conclude it he said, "We will soon discover that we have met the enemy - and not only may he be ours, he may be us." Or words to that effect. Only then did people latch on to it, and only then did he incorporate it into one of his most famous cartoons.

This one just spoke to me the other day when I was so royally pissed-off at a family member I have never liked, but who phones me several times a year (I have never once phoned her in 30+ years, because I never want to talk to her). I finally did what I should have done decades ago and cut her off. Now she's furious and feels I owe her an apology and insists she was only trying to HELP me, for God's sake, be an advocate for all my experiential fuckups. ., . never mind. She is gone out of my life forever, as far as I am concerned, and high time, too.

YOU GO, POGO!