Witchy Hunt

First of all, my apologies to Monty Python, especially the lovely Connie Booth.
The foul personalities on display here in no way are reflective of the wonderful actors in their original roles.

I just got so sick of hearing that a fact-based FBI investigation is a “witch hunt” that I couldn’t NOT draw this once I thought of it. After all, what cultured person thinks of anything other than this movie scene when they hear anything about witches??

And if you are not aware of the movie scene in which this is reference to, do yourself a favor and buy, watch and memorize this movie today.
iTunes link:
Monty Python and the Holy Grail by Monty Python

Erich Meatleg

PS -I am also posting a version without the “Witchy Counter” filled in, so that anyone can update it as more people plea bargain and get indicted.

————————————————————————

“But… but, indictments don’t mean that people are guilty!”
Yeah, but an indictment by Mueller, that took down the Gambino crime family, is a safe bet. He doesn’t subscribe to tin foil hat theories, and witches leave trails.

https://m.dailykos.com/story/2018/1/21/1733280/-Mapping-out-the-long-path-of-Trump-s-money-laundering-and-corruption

https://www.dailyo.in/variety/donald-trump-robert-mueller-russiagate-gambino-crime-family-john-gotti-michael-flynn/story/1/21256.html

Edited: July 19th, 2018

Never Rational American Gothic


There is a sickness in the USA.
It’s a kind of lust.
An addiction.
A fetish.
It’s an irrational attraction to toys that end life. It doesn’t matter how many children shoot their siblings, how many people shoot themselves, on accident or on purpose, or how many disturbed individuals shoot swaths of others at once; the thirst for possession of murdersticks is seemingly unquenchable.

It doesn’t matter that you are statistically more likely to commit suicide than than to successfully defend your home from an invader. It doesn’t matter that accidents in the home are more prevalent than incidents of protection.
Statistics.
Facts.
Data.
Nothing sways the worship.

Lovers of the murdersticks scream about rights. They threaten violent insurrection should their toys be threatened by new regulations or by repealing old amendments.
They call laws that favor their mechanical idols “sacrosanct” and “immutable”, regardless of the fact that said laws are based on something called an “amendment”, which by definition means itself was once a change that was added and therefore can also be subtracted.

This desire is an attraction rooted in fantasy.
A fantasy not unlike the dream that one day, the fantasizer will find themselves alone atop a Nakatomi Plaza building, the sole force that stands between helpless innocents and an impending slaughter by an undeniably evil force that could only be stopped by the hero of the hour, that just happens to have their trusty war-wager holstered, locked, loaded and lubed up for action.
Ready and willing.
Never say die.

Yippie-Kai-Yay-NEVERgonnaHappenYouTwat.

More and more, this fantasy is being exposed for what it is; a child-like hero complex in an adult brain combined with a short sighted desire to shirk responsibility when confronted with the ills that placating to this addiction causes society. While it is argued that unfettered access to high powered murdersticks equals freedom for some, it invariably means an unnecessary injury or an untimely death for many other innocents.

We should be on the side of the innocents.
We should reduce access to tools that create nothing but death and the aftermath of tragedy.
We should investigate the problem of mental instability among our populace, and we should start with the mental instability that causes the desire to collect, hoard, aggrandize and genuflect to the cold, steel, golden calf of casualty.

Edited: April 24th, 2018

Never Rational American Gothic

Never Rational American Gothic
There is a sickness in the USA.
It’s a kind of lust.
An addiction.
A fetish.
It’s an irrational attraction to toys that end life. It doesn’t matter how many children shoot their siblings, how many people shoot themselves, on accident or on purpose, or how many disturbed individuals shoot swaths of others at once; the thirst for possession of murdersticks is seemingly unquenchable.

It doesn’t matter that you are statistically more likely to commit suicide than than to successfully defend your home from an invader. It doesn’t matter that accidents in the home are more prevalent than incidents of protection.
Statistics.
Facts.
Data.
Nothing sways the worship.
(more…)

Edited: April 4th, 2018

Trump’s Christmas Gift to the Middle Class

Yes, this is disgusting.
Is it as disgusting as giving tax scam handouts to billionaires instead of funding programs that would help the middle class or the poor?
I think not.
Merry Xmas everyone!!
And happy new year!!

Edited: December 30th, 2017

TrumpCare

More for the few, less for the many.

Edited: July 3rd, 2017

Trumpcare (Unfinished)


This is not finished yet. Please don’t share it, but please do give feedback. I hope to have it finished in a few days.

Edited: June 25th, 2017

Mother Russia (in color)

Edited: June 12th, 2017

Mother Russia

Mother Russia

Mother Russia

Edited: May 31st, 2017

The least of Me…

Edited: February 5th, 2017

The Year We Make Contact in Uranus

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This is probably the simplest drawing I have done since I was four years old, but it felt really appropriate. This is for my science fiction anthem now available in iTunes:
The Year We Make Contact In Uranus
By Erich Meatleg

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/the-year-we-make-contact-in/id392025917

Lyrics:
Rolling down a highway
on a lonely rural night,
I was blinded by a beam of light
and sucked into the sky.
Pulled into a craft above
and dropped upon its floor,
I raised my head in fear
to my shiny, metal captors!

In wide-eyed fear I screamed
as I was pleading for my life.
I asked them to identify
intentions and the like and they said:
“We are the Robutts.
We came to harvest slaves:
The anaerobic animals
that live inside your enclaves!”

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
IN SPACE, NO ONE CAN SAVE YOUR HIDE!!
BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
YOU CANT CLOSE THE BROWN EYE!!!

In a bid to save my dignity I
made a last request:
I beseeched the tiny Robutts
for a grander audience.
I said, “I want to see your leader!”
The Robutts looked perplexed!
They warned me as they summoned it:
“You know not what you assk!”

A siren blared immensley
and a door slid open wide.
A tall, translucent one-eyed beast
slithered to the light.
I begged for liberation
unmolested from inside!
A gaping maw of crooked spires
opened to reply:

It said.. it said.. this is what it said:
(THE BEAST, RANTING)

(What the…?)
I didn’t understand a single word of that,
(What is he talking about?)
but found out exactly what IT meant:

BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
THERE ARE NO SEAT BELTS FOR THIS RIDE!!
BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
PREPARE TO BE ANALYZED!!!

I plummeted to Earth again
when my hard night was through…
I wondered why my life was spared
after I’d been so used…
The Robutts transmitted
as they sped out of sight:
“Next collection: Tomorrow Night!”

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
YOU BET YOUR ASS, YOU CANNOT WIN!!
BOW DOWN FOR THE ANAL PROBE!
THE ROBUTTS GET YOU IN THE END!!!

Robutts:
“Do not struggle.
Resistance is futile.”

Edited: September 12th, 2010