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Snowball <3

This is just a happy birthday post to a favorite album of mine – The Field Mice’s ‘Snowball’, SARAH 402, which was released on September 4, 1989. Thirty years ago today. Happy 30th birthday ‘Snowball’.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snowball_(album)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pldx0G6lxUQ&t=18s

(please note: the above link represents the digital reissue of the album from some years later, which includes a few of the singles the Field Mice put out from around that time. They are ‘Sensitive’ SARAH records 18, ‘Emma’s House’ SARAH records 12, ‘I Can See Myself Alone Forever’ CAFF 02, and a compilation album called ‘Airspace!’ originally released as Breaking Down Records 01)

See also: https://www.discogs.com/The-Field-Mice-Snowball-Singles/release/598353

 

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Prometheus And The Eagle

Feral Fox is one cool dude...
Feral Fox is an occasional contributor to Twee Cat Photography…

Prometheus was an ancient hero. He saw that humanity had no means of keeping warm or preparing food, and to remedy this, he stole fire from the Gods. This was in the time of Zeus and all the others, and to make things worse, it happened on a day when Zeus was feeling particularly testy and short-tempered, having just lost a significant amount of money investing in the stock market. He just wasn’t having it. As punishment for having stolen the secret of fire from the Gods, Zeus chained Prometheus to a cliff. He sent an eagle to go there once a day and devour Prometheus’ liver. Each day, after the eagle had eaten it, Prometheus’ liver would grow back, only to be eaten again by the eagle the following day. It was an endless cycle of liver eating.

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A Monkey Washing A Cat Perfectly Depicts Our Existential Circumstances

Marvelous Malevolent Mucilaginous Minging Magical Multigrain Muffin is a correspondent for Twee Cat Photography...
Marvelous Malevolent Mucilaginous Minging Magical Multigrain Muffin is a muffin wearing a top hat and balancing on top of a cane. He is a correspondent for Twee Cat Photography, and an occasional contributor to the New York Review Of Books.

Hey, Jerks.

Dear Reader, I am writing to you today as the glad harbinger of the news that an age old philosophical question, which had previously troubled the greatest minds of former generations, has finally been solved. I speak, of course, of the problem of the meaning or ultimate significance of life itself.

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