SS Plotkin, circa. 1901
I separate the mists of time like the Great Jabber Monkey’s own cosmic speculum.
The Fates glare at me as I slowly walk up the gangway: Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos.
“You cannot avoid your destiny,” Clotho says to me, her sea-cap at a jaunty angle.
“No,” Lachesis affirmed. “There is no escape.”
“Arf!” said Atropos, and then piddled on Clotho’s gaberdine cruiseware.
Next Time: A Brassademic
About the Photographer: Toulouse Le Grandfig was a surrealist painter, photographer and writer who never gave up dadaism. Also, he played a mean sousaphone.
The staff apologies for the inadvertent classical allusions used in this post. If you would go here and tell us off, we’d appreciate it. Then mess with these people.






















4 comments
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July 14, 2008 at 12:54 pm
Atrapos
Arf! Arf! Grrrrr….arf!
July 14, 2008 at 1:51 pm
Mark A. Rayner
What’s that Atrapos? Timmy’s fallen down the well?
July 15, 2008 at 4:16 am
Alex L.
Fallen or pushed?
July 15, 2008 at 7:34 am
Mark A. Rayner
Well, if it was fated to happen, does it matter …