Category Archives: Novels

December 23, 2025 · 11:24 pm

00490104 (Schrodinger’s Man?)

No, not Gemilly Niceniece dominating the icy scene we’ve already seen walking across a different planet in post one of this here newest photo-novel, 49 in a series of infinity (infinity?). Instead: the background “figure”, peering over rocks it appears. A silhouette once more but small, more submissive and open to interpretation. Is it a man, a person? Or… something else. I’d personally give it about a 50-50 chance either way in the present.

I’m reminded somehow of this from photo-novel 36 — yet more Kentucky, hmm.

And I’ve seen the “illusion” before while walking around these number of planets through this particular BD, 7 hours and 7 minutes and 11 second long it is. And this coming exactly at the end of the 55 minutes and 14 second long Schrodinger III section of the video. We’ll see how it develops moving forward (and forward (and forward)).

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December 22, 2025 · 4:13 pm

00490103

Per more cues in KY, she’d merrily adorned herself with ribbons and bows up and down, from the top of her new festive haired head to the bottom of her new festive shoed toe — toes.  Bought for the season would be their reason, on the surface. Then she came back to the Rodentia Assembly Hall intending to give assumed ever-listening Rodentius the giant white rat with a bit of brown to keep him honest another show of information, holiday style. She even brought her Rudolph bulb along for good luck; it now lit the single room hall as much as the floor light that also tagged along with her.

“What Christmas means to me,” she started after taking the podium, trying not to glance into his corner too much. Nervous for some reason! It was only a big rodent, though. Nothing more. “AHEM… Christmas, to me, to myself, to… I…” Stumped, she looks down here, saw the color highlighted in so many ways on her arms, torso, legs, feet. “… means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*, not 666.”

“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be ever-corner in the hall, named for what he would call his better, female half which represents the whole virtual town surrounding them on all sides and then some. “Keep it coming!”

—–

But suddenly, just like that, there was no one in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occasion. Should have been a more somber attire, black instead of red, the other half of the equation as it turned out. Black for the empty chair revealed by the vanished big, non-anthropomorphized rodent, just an oversized but otherwise very ordinary animal with no human form to him atall. Black for absence itself. Loss of a friend.

Rodentius is *always* here, she panics. Why now, why just before Christmas of all times of the year? Why did he have to go… so SOON?!


She turns back to the chairs of the assembly hall after staring quite a while at the corner bereft of soul, of consciousness, trying to reorient herself after this shocking discovery. Then she imagines the red chairs being repopulated with not humans but aliens to balance things out, a show of planets to repopulate a darkened universe. Like here:

Yes, this helps, she thinks. Mars, the first red planet as it were, was just a beginning. Black and red together makes more sense on this special special day. Absence. And presents. TBC

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December 22, 2025 · 3:13 pm

00490102 (simultaneity)

Tree tattoo, front and back — no crack.

Which leads us to… these side-by-side pictures of the 2 very different appearing and acting Dennis the Menaces both emerging in our world on the same date of March 12, 1951, US and UK style…

https://www.plagiarismtoday.com/2010/10/18/the-odd-case-of-dennis-the-menace/

1951 must have been a very bad year to be named Dennis.

The reason is because on March 12 of that year two separate comics entitled Dennis the Menace went on sale, one in the UK, one in the U.S (Note: The UK version is dated March 15 but actually went on sale on March 12).

The UK comic Dennis, which first appeared in Beano #452, was created by David Law and published by D.C. Thomson as a comic strip inside a popular comedy comic book. It’s U.S. counterpart was created by Hank Ketcham and initially distributed by Post-Hall Syndicate as a syndicated comic strip for newspapers.

Though, based on this simple fact, many draw the conclusion that one of the two creators had to have plagiarized the other, it’s become clear that simply wasn’t the case. Not only did the two creators have no way of knowing what the other was working on, but the two characters are actually extremely different. The UK version is a true menace, a mean-spirited boy who likes to cause trouble, and the U.S. version is happy-go-lucky child that causes trouble without intending to.

US and UK happen to be the prefixes of two separate but directly related Cracks in this here blog and attached photo-novels, the first, US Cracks,  a “real” band from the Cyberpunk 2077 game with a name derived from the expression “ass cracks”, and the second, UK Cracks, my reimaged and repurposed US Cracks headlined by a Blue Moon Kentucky instead of a Blue Moon period

Red anyone?


Blue Moon and Red Menace (and Purple Force) of US Cracks

Simultaneously appearing US and UK versions of Dennis the Menace discussed in a 2010 *”Cracked”* article:

https://www.cracked.com/article_18788_the-5-most-mind-blowing-coincidences-all-time.html

Let’s switch back to Frank Lynn’s giant, mobile or wannbe-mobile castle home in the sky over in Jeogeot’s Nawt Vaya (Free State) for the next one, specifically its only bathroom, pre-Daisy Flathead 2nd date condition, he he.

Here he’s ogling “Xxxmas Belles” magazine’s 2025 centerfold beside an attempted 666 coverup of 3 more cracks — didn’t quite work this time unlike for the first picture of this blog post. “Damn, Miss Mistletoe you demon,” he says to the spread out centerfold before him. “I’m truly gonna miss you. But I have new lips to smooch. Better pull out my phone and and call Daisy.”

Which returns us to Kentucky… TBC

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December 6, 2025 · 8:57 pm

00490101

She didn’t necessarily want come back here but it all keeps circling around, all part of the master plan by the powers that be (me, baker b.). Jemison — oceanside this time. She didn’t arrive here in a ship or boat or anything like that but just strolled in from an entirely different planet altogether through a transition point of zero dimensions, no wasteful energy used. A black hole we could call it, one after another after another, actually, as the walking in essentially a straight line continued from world to world, biome to biome, to make a 7 hour and 7 minute and 11 second tour altogether. And now she had returned to where she started — finally — a type of home base as it were. 1:07:47 through 1:45:13 in the overall video. Would things be different now?

“Good to see you back here, Gemilly Niceniece,” said Clyde the Herding Cutterhead while passing by, who last saw her in a Jemison deciduous forest biome setting from photo-novel 48. Welcome to 49, Gemilly and Clyde! Welcome all. TBC

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December 4, 2025 · 8:50 pm

00480616 (hands a blazing)

“I know how to beat Mouse’s high score and get away from the fire of Little Hell for good, Frank. Red car!”

“And *I* know how to beat the difficult score before me too, Philip my oft times housemate. Red note to also constantly remind me of middle!”

PLAY.

And hoped for, 2nd, even more oft times housemate Daisy makes 3. Er, make that *5*.

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 LATER”!

PREVIOUS HOME

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December 4, 2025 · 8:50 pm

00480615

“I- don’t know where I am!!”

“Wait a minute. Yes… yes I this I *do* know where this must be,” Mouse rectifies as his head stops spinning around an unknown center and the earth moves up to meet his feet, giving him balance on the perch above the trees. True earth, and not that fake crud up down sideways in Our Second Lyfe. “Bill,” he says, looking down. “This must be Bill again, a, um, reduction from the mountain in Maine. As, yes, mass turns into energy for locomotion… across the landscape. I *remember*.”

—–

“I forgot to tell you — I got a postcard from Mouse today,” Frank says after he puts his hands on the planchette to begin. “Turns outs he’s in Vermont, not New Hampshire.”

“Interesting. Okay… back to the game.” Philip also touches the planchette from his side, which then rather quickly spells out OLD ZIRCON. The self described phased-out Byzantine devil ends up giving them the answers they both need and desire. tbc

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December 4, 2025 · 7:48 am

00480614

Afterwards she provided more details about her father. Finally. “He lived on top of a mountain but not that one, the one we talked about before.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking of my own mountain, my own castle here. I don’t live on top — not yet anyway; working my way up there with the positioning of this bed behind the eyes at the top of the spiral staircase; just for more privacy on this special special occasion (!) But instead more in the middle where the great majority of my things are still, like my notebooks, like my piano. Just behind the mouth and that gall darn big tongue sticking out from within. The one Philip likes to take his wee-wee’s off of between games of High Speed, ha. Hmm, wee-wee again. Pee pee, I restated in my mind, to match Daisy’s progression of the phrase in moving from real to virtual back in ’12, she revealed.

“They torn down his *house*, Frank,” she just blurted out. “It was awful. Just because he was a rich white man in a poor black country-state working on stuff they couldn’t understand.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I decided to say.

“So am I. He built a much smaller, much more modest house to live in after that but they just torn that one down too, the ‘stuff’ being the problem and not the money he made off of it. Not really… at the core. He had no choice but to leave. Off this world, actually, to a second one initially thought to be far far away indeed, unobtainable to reach in distance of space. He sank all the remainder of his money into the endeavor.”

“Off – world?” I didn’t know where this was going. Was she insinuating that her father was an astronaut? Actually flew into space on a rocket ship? “What could he have… I mean, what did he do to–”

“–incite the people to such anger, such destruction?” she finished his fumbling question. “He was head of a startup company developing AI.”

“Artificial – intelligence?”

“Yes. And they, the townspeople surrounding him on all sides east west north south, believed it to be an evil spirit, a rare, *dark* orisha they called it. Because it threated the whole world, the survival of the human species itself. Or so they were told.”

She became silent here, like a mute button was automatically activated on her flat top head. And so it was. tbc

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December 4, 2025 · 7:48 am

00480613 (“Endless Window”)

Harlequin moves from the darkened corner of the courtyard into the house with Columbine, Pierrot having shuffled off below the event horizon like a dying orbital sun. The oldest extant animation ends here with the created black hole, paint applied gelatin finishing its run.

—–

“Now let’s get to the other one, Daisy. Father you say?”

“Father I say.”

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December 2, 2025 · 3:31 pm

00480612

Citrus fruit loving Philip was pleased the lemonade stand was still there on Infinity Lane but had no time today to stop. Must hurry! “Sorry, Bart!” he calls over while sprinting by. “Maybe next time!” he shouts back, already a blur in the distance to the boy colored the same as the product he sells and who still couldn’t sit while he works because of the broken chair that came with the stand. Where’s tireless former robot co-worker Billy Clockwork when you need him? he always frets around the 4 hour mark on any full shift these days. But it was off to the big city for him when he graduated local Nawt Vaya State University with a degree in economic ergonomics, a bunch of real life experience piled up by working with Bartholomew before, between and after classes. He’d learned a lot in both, enough to get him a 6 figure salary right off the bat. We probably don’t have time or space to get into his story in this here photo-novel, rapidly coming to a close (I hope!), but I believe he lives up in the middle of the Nautilus continent. Or was that Nautilus Island? Anyway, back to Philip. With all that writing I just did he’s now had enough time in space to make his way up to Sep Felton’s haircutting establishment more in the northern part of Juho city. He stops at the door, bent over because of lack of oxygen and unable to speak at first, then straightens up and manages: “Nada New Year? (pant pant) Know? (pant) anything about? (pant pant pant) her?”

“Whereabouts?” Sep completes Philip’s assumed sentence. “Here,” and she pivots the barbershop chair she stands behind 90 degrees to reveal the worst for Philip. “Pink? PINK?” But then he realizes he must back pedal the insensitive utterance. Fast! “LOVE IT!”

“*Wait,” mischievously smiling Sep says playfully. “My mistake. This is *Lexi*. Nada is over *there*.” And an at first relieved Philip stares into the darkened corner of the stylist shop she indicated only to see… but just then my computer crashes ARRRRGH. (TBC?)

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December 2, 2025 · 3:31 pm

00480611

Perspective has changed at De House. Mann has lost wo-Mann in a way, in a manner. A hole has been formed in the middle. Witches. Which witch is which? What is good and what is baad?

“Interesting art you have there up above the bar now, Daisy. Another Corona Non while I have your attention, thanks.”

“The art?” She turns and looks up. “Yeah, it’s the alcoholic sea monster there in the middle, obviously. And the pool it’s in: the Nawt Vaya Sea. I found it in the user’s inventory. He indicated the association.”

“User?”

“Yeah, baker b. The user who controls us all, or at least while we’re on his land I suppose, this Nawt Vaya Free State on the shores of same.”

Biker Mann takes another drag off his cigarette, attempts to take all that in. He decides to focus on the art, the meaning. “Soo… is that a painting or what? Looks more like a photo.”

“It’s a collage, silly. You know that.” Daisy Flathead looked flatly at him, anticipating more. Hopefully the discussion will get seriouser from this point on. She decides she needs to add some information here and does so. “It’s… not a part of any series that I know of — not really.”

“The houses,” Biker kind of interrupts. “The same?” making her turn around to stare again. “90 degrees?” he furthers. “3 years?”

—–

“Oh, and the central figure, er, figures. The brown statues that grow shorter with time.”

“Do they?” It was Daisy who was trying to catch up now, mann overtaking wo-mann once more. In this certain situation in this certain time in space.

“Yeah. The acorn topped head.” He pointed to Daisy’s flat one. “It’s Pierrot again. Did you get that?”

She didn’t. But then she makes a decision after continuing to gaze. “I — don’t think they’re the same.”

“Aren’t they?” he pressed.

She checks again. “No,” she judges firmly.

“Okay, okay,” he gives in, seeing the pretty different designs on the, er, helmets of each. Head tops. “Then let’s shift to the hole in the middle.”

“Nawt Vaya? Sea?” she added.

“Kind of I guess. But (moreover) the hole made by the line figure collapsing inside his own clothes that obviously overlaps the brown statues. Where, um, does that hole go?”

She notices the hole, she notices what is highlighted. Thinking of Grant’s Hill again in Missouri and nearby Siloam, she says the word in her mind.

Just then, Philip Strevor pops his head in the door, asks about Nada. “Seen her?” he finishes his introductory paragraph.

“Nada? Yes, she came in here earlier with Lexi,” Daisy provided him. “Said they were headed up to Juho. Said something about a haircut.”

“Oh no,” says Philip. “Oh *no*. WITCHES?” And he ran away from the bar to the North as fast as he could, hoping to catch Nada before she made a big BIG mistake. TBC

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