—–
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
—–
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 and 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 the 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 3rd date condition, he he.
Here he’s ogling “XXXBelle magazine’s 2025 holiday centerfold beside an attempted 666 coverup of 3 more cracks — didn’t quite work this time unlike for the first picture of this blog. “Damn, Miss Mistletoe you demon,” he says to the spread out centerfold before him. “I’m truly gonna miss your kind. But I have new lips to smooch. Better pull out my phone and and call Daisy while I’ve mustered up the courage. Daisy!” he then calls not into his phone but into the air surrounding him. “Daiisyyy!!”
Which returns us to Kentucky which will continue… TBC
—–
00490103 (aliens are coming)
She’d donned her ribbons, she’d donned her bows. Paired, they were, up and down her body, from new festive haired head to new festive shoed toe — toes. Bought for the season would be their reason, on the surface, up top. She came back to the Rodentia Assembly Hall intending to give assumed ever-listening Rodentia the giant white rat with a bit of brown to keep him honest another shower of information, holiday style. She even brought her Rudolph bulb along for good luck; it now lit the hall as much as the floor light she brought here like her daughter Alice Tart did before in the last photo-novel created by this here blog, 48 in a series of soon-to-be 49. March I’m guessing. Hopefully.
“What Christmas means to me,” she started, 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 up and down her feet, legs, arms, and torso. “…means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she quickly followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*,” she followed even quicker. “No not Satan, not 666.” But was it, she thought to herself, puzzled in the moment.
she tacked on to herself, like a tattoo.
“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be, ever-corner in the hall, named for his 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!”
“UHUM…” But suddenly, just like that, there was noone in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occassion. 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.
Rodentia 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 at the corner berift of soul, of consciousness quite a while, trying to reorient herself after this discovery.Then she images the red chair being repopulated with living, breathing people, but *aliens*. A shower of planets representatives to repopulate a deadened universe.
Yes, that will do, she thinks. Mars was just a beginning.
—–
00490103 (aliens are coming)
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 Rodentia 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, and feet. “… means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*, not 666.” Why did she automatically link Satan with that number? she wondered.
“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be ever-corner in the hall, named for what he could 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 noone in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occassion. 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 berift of soul, of consciousness, trying to reorient herself after this shocking discovery. Then she images the red chairs being repopulated with living, breathing people — *aliens*. A show of planets to repopulate the darkened universe. Like here:
Yes, this will do, she thinks. Mars, the first red planet as it were, was just a beginning. Black and red together makes more sense. Absence. And presents. TBC
Sunklands 