THE MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS. . .

grotesque3.jpg . . . is not surging through my veins at the moment. Can you tell? Combine with a case of pre-lunch low-blood-sugar shakiness, et voila! A new drawing style!
grotesques1.jpg It's not particularly noble of me, granted, but it feels good. I wield my poison pen like a rapier, skewering the guilty and innocent alike. Let God sort 'em out.
grotesques2.jpg Pretty pathetic, huh? It would be a more accurate metaphor if I were drawing with a noodle. For anyone out there who's rolling their eyes, let me state categorically: nowhere does it say that artists have to be more evolved people. Or even on a level with anyone else. I'm whiney, self-pitying, self-absorbed, insecure, and I have a penchant for digitally grabbing people by the lapels and spewing same in their faces. So? Tomorrow I'll be Little Sparky Sunshine.