Category Archives: AI Art

A showcase of my AI art creations, often appended with attempts at humor.

Gnome Marches, Part I: Origin and History

Note: This entry is a primer on gnome origins, their relationship to the world above, their history, and the events leading to the first-ever gnome march way back in fictional antiquity. Part II of this essay will cover gnome life and protest in modern times. Stay tuned!

Gnome marches are more common that you think. Gatherings often take place deep underground or far away in the remote wilderness. When they do appear in the city, they’re known to cause quite a stir.

Having recently moved from Atlanta, I was unable to participate in this year’s Inman Park Festival Parade Gnome March. If you’re unfamiliar with the tradition, imagine this: people from all walks of life congregate in gnome garb and make signs in support, in protest, or in celebration of any pressing gnome issues and/or causes. Rain or shine, the march freely encourages all involved to temporarily cut loose, forget about the donkey work of day-to-day living, and experience a sense of solidarity by engaging in the type of fun only the best absurdist traditions can provide. I always look forward to “gnoming it up” and walking the parade route with my friends each April, so I’m a little bummed out that I missed it this time around.

Well-acquainted with self pity, but too uncomfortable to wallow in it, I opted to get my fix in a more subdued fashion by writing an essay on the history of gnomes and their marches. The resulting piece is full of crackpot nonsense and outright fabrications, and it’s an excellent opportunity for you and I to spend valuable time doing something other than working or learning useful skills. Ready? Good!

Gnome Origins and Persistence

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First named in the west by Paracelcus, the gnome is one of four liminal entities, each stationed to a classical element: Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. Gnomes belong to Earth, while Salamanders command fire, Undines are water beings, and Sylphs maintain air superiority.

These four entities are masters of their respective realms. As such, gnomes can swiftly traverse earth and solid rock by a mysterious mode of excavation often attributed to magic, though when confronted by humans on the topic, they reliably scoff or coyly utter some variation of this old gnome proverb: “Alrech télya, sparglibüm ahndweve nodda téngh buda lōda hōkum.” Approximately translated, it carries the sentiment: “I say that magical trickery is illusion and artifice, nothing more.”

The philosophy at the heart of this platitude is very much at odds with other feats of gnomic renown, as they are also suspected of being natural shapeshifters, controlling their appearance and size at will. Though usually content adhering to their familiar diminutive form, gnomes can masquerade as nearly anything, living or inert. What’s more, they possess a limited talent for alchemy and are able to effortlessly transmute earth, stone, and metal ores into refined and finished tools and stunning works of art.

Dismissed by most humans as simple whimsical creatures of western folklore, gnomes have both literally and figuratively thrived underground, often going completely unnoticed by a bustling modern humanity. This is not to say they are a quiet people. Quite the contrary, they do have opinions on the state of world affairs, and when motivated to congregate, they do so with great alacrity, showing themselves in force when united behind a cause. Once confident they have made their viewpoints clear and their grievances enumerated and laid bare in a public forum, they disperse as quickly as they appear.

These sporadic incursions, though titillating, deprive us of an opportunity to become familiar with gnome culture, history, philosophy, and science. There are some who believe gnomes live among us in secret, taking our form for extended periods to quietly gather intelligence on everything from international politics to their neighbors’ lawn care habits. Whether this is true is a matter of frequent debate among paranoiacs and conspiracy theorists.

Able to navigate among humanity completely unnoticed, this gnome casually observes a tense standoff between a riot squad and a force of paramilitary extremists.

Despite their multi-dimensional omnipresence, gnomes remain at the fringes – no closer than the corner of your eye. But make no mistake, they are all around you, and their ability to hide in plain sight would be terrifying had they not been doing so throughout our history… all the while keeping the saga of their own people obscured.

Early Gnome History

The closest we can get to a true account of gnome history is through their own lore. In Renton’s Collected Stories of Eurasian Smallfolk, the author claims to have extensive conversations with a gnome named Cognall Grombel, who presents himself as an unofficial liaison offering an account of his people’s story – and a cautionary tale. Allowing the gnome to speak freely and uninterrupted, Renton recorded the following:

“…The oldest among us say we were born from the earth or alongside it, or maybe pressed into it, to be mixed within like nuts baked into bread. No one’s sure exactly how we came to be, but all gnomes do refer to the earth as Mother, regardless of which origin tale they hold to.

“As we awakened deep beneath the surface, we thought ourselves to be the sole living creatures of the earth. Having only one another’s company, we spent countless years in the subterranean realm we call Tunellond. We invented language and writing to communicate, we cultivated arts to entertain ourselves, and we engaged in industry to make our lives easier with mechanical marvels. Eventually, our curiosity guided us to expansion, and that would ultimately lead to… goblins.

‘Gnomes came first, goblins next.’ That’s the opening lyric to the ‘Legend of the Gnomess Goblynne,’ who awakened long after all other gnomes had found their feet. When she first appeared, the gnomes were in shock, finding her to be quite unlike them. She was taller and thinner, she had a pale green complexion, and she couldn’t change shape. She was strong and well-suited to life underground, but lacking the ability to burrow or craft on par with her brothers and sisters, she found herself to be an outsider among her own kind, and so she moped through the caverns and chasms near her birthplace while her kin freely wandered the solid depths of Tunellond.

“Over time, our curiosity led us to places she couldn’t follow. Though we meant her no ill, we were blinded by our wanderlust, and our predilection for roaming caused us to abandon her. Lonesome and unable to reach others of her kind, Goblynne wept by a shallow pool. The legend says that as her bitter tears hit the water, the tadpoles within were cursed, eventually growing to become the first true Gobeline or “goblin” people.

“It is widely known, yet rarely mentioned in modern times, that goblins were the products of our heartlessness. These days, you will scarcely encounter a gnome who who will freely talk about it. We tend to hide that bit of our past, or claim it’s only a parable to teach our gnomlings compassion.”

An artist’s rendering of Goblynne, the progenitor and matriarch of all goblinkind.

Ages of Prosperity and Peace

“According to the old tales, after roaming the interior of the earth for seven hundred eighty-nine years, the gnomes returned to their place of origin, carrying a wealth of jewels and exotic ores in tow. Goblynne was overjoyed to be reunited with her people and demanded her progeny treat gnomes with kindness and respect. The gnome and goblin people got along quite well for a duration. We frequently traded provisions and treasure, and life was generally good in Tunellond.

“It was only as we first made our way to the surface, or Üppenlende, that the goblins became anxious. They could tell that the gnomes were getting restless, desiring to discover what the untrodden parts of the world had to offer, and Goblynne began to fear she would yet again be abandoned.

“Having spent eons deep beneath the surface, we gnomes found Üppenlende to be an unspoiled paradise, abundant in resources, and its air refreshingly clear – especially in the days before so many humans were around. Back then, we felt no need to hide from your people. You never sought to attack us, and for some reason you all thought we brought good luck with us! Free to do as we pleased, we established the vast kingdom Agegnomia. At our civilization’s industrial peak, the great cities of Bailegnoem and Gnopoli sprawled from valley to mountaintop. Both were glorious to behold.

“To the great shame of our people, we once again left our goblin cousins behind as we migrated upward. Many gnomes who made their homes on the surface suddenly disregarded goblinfolk entirely or maligned them as inferior, unfit for our new fair lands, while still others made paltry excuses for leaving them below, saying the sun may burn their skin, or the dry air might hurt their lungs.

“The truth was that many gnomes felt too ‘tied down’ by the goblins, as they couldn’t move freely through the earth as gnomes do. Those feelings of obligation to aid the goblins competed with our restless legs. We have an instinctive mandate to roam, and that instinct won out, I’m afraid.

“For hundreds of years, we basked in the sun while Goblynne and her kin clawed their way toward the surface with slow determination, forging tunnels, discovering cracks and fissures, inching ever upward. Fueled by feelings of loneliness and betrayal, they chanted ‘rúkkus, rúkkus…‘ which is goblin tongue for ‘war.’

Gnomes quickly grew accustomed to life on the surface, making fast friends with the indigenous fauna. Here, an elder gnome feeds a rabbit beneath a “whirligig.” As gnomes acclimated to life above ground, they often felt uneasy in wide-open spaces. As a measure to minimize risk of an attack from above, whirligigs could be deployed alternately as lures or deterrents against would-be predator species.

“All the while, gnomekind spread throughout Üppenlende and dispersed to the four corners of Agegnomia. City gnomes and rural gnomes rarely interacted and they nearly lost touch altogether. As a result, our people’s culture continued to fragment and further diversify as the years wore on. The only thing keeping us united as we settled beyond eyeshot of one another was the occasional visit from the Overgnome’s Cardinal Guards, who acted as couriers, lookouts, and general defenders of Agegnomia.

“In time, rumors percolated around the countryside: tools gone missing from barns, crops pilfered or uprooted, and rebellious chickens testing the limits of their caretakers’ patience with bouts of uncharacteristic impudence. All such episodes were blamed on odd sightings of unruly green imps slinking through the shadows by night.

Here, a gnome attempts to coax one of his birds to return a hat. The increasingly bold and mischievous behavior of livestock gave rise to whispers of goblin mischief in Üppenlende.

The Revenge of Goblynne, the “Twice Betrayed”

“Life on the surface more or less continued this way for ages, with reported sightings of goblins near our farms and homes, but no outright hostilities were ever confirmed. This protracted détente between our two people was shattered when a group of rambunctious goblins sneaked into the city of Bailegnoem and mounted a brief and loosely-organized assault.

A depiction of the goblin assault on Bailegnoem. Their presence on the surface remained little more than idle gossip until they grew brazen enough to reveal themselves in the city. Seen here, a group of battle-ready gnome soldiers deploy a goblin whirligig lure in an attempt to engage the insurgents in the alleyways, away from the vulnerable commerce and administrative districts.

“Though successfully repelled with minimal effort, our king Overgnome Goremblis interpreted this scuffle as a warning: goblins had indeed made their way to the surface and were bent on revenge. He sent out the call for his scouts and loyal guards to make haste for Bailegnoem and Gnopoli, as he suspected Queen Goblynne was preparing her forces for an all-out attack.

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“Goremblis’ most trusted warriors and advisors rushed from the frontiers of Agegnomia to devise counterattack measures and consolidate their forces in the cities. Unbeknownst to the gnome commanders, Goblynne’s soldiers had not merely found their way to the surface – they had tenaciously tunneled directly beneath every gnomic stronghold and location of strategic importance. Expecting a siege from outside the city walls, Sagnamar Margnith deployed a host of battle rabbits outside the perimeter gates. For weeks, the gnome armies waited, on the lookout for signs of goblins on the horizon.

“It was on the fateful day remembered in our tradition as Goremblis’ Folly that the goblins erupted from the sewers of Bailegnoem and Gnopoli, catching the gnome regiments unawares. Soldiers rushed into the city center to meet the surprise attack. Wave after wave, the goblin horde was cut down by the gnome army, but they continued to emerge like foul humors from an infected wound.

The Ambush of Gnopoli left Overgnome Goremblis’ forces in disarray. Gnome soldiers rushed into the city center to meet the goblins’ surprise attack.

“After a significant number of goblins had been dispatched, Goblynne herself rose from the depths and shrieked ‘You may knock us back, but you will never quench the fire in my dear goblins’ hearts. They seek to show you the consequences of your callousness, demolish the monuments to your pride, and remind you that you belong below. For every one of my children you thwart, there will be another to take their place, for there are as many goblins as there are tears I’ve wept, and my tears are innumerable.’

“Goblynne’s speech struck the gnomes’ hearts with a sudden piercing regret and burdened their souls with the weight of dread. The army fought valiantly, but they alone were no match for the thousands of Goblynne’s minions. Gnome soldiers and civilian defenders alike became fatigued, and it seemed the goblins were about to get the best of us.

It was midnight when Goremblis got word that Gnopoli was overrun. The morale of Bailegnoem’s citizenry was crushed by the news, which spread as swiftly as the goblins’ flames. Their spirits broken, they continued fighting with what little vigor they could muster as they prepared to meet the same fate as those in their sister city.

The Sacking of Gnopoli, by Ignatius Ognebrol, ca. 1490.

“Unknown to both goblin and gnome, the frantic fighting had caught the attention of a human encampment nearby. A down-on-their luck hunting party led by Jorruf Brickhouse saw the smoke from a distance, and realizing it was a gnome city, diverted his mates toward the action, hoping to reverse their fortunes on the hunting grounds by helping the gnomes overcome their foes. Together, they cried ‘to the luck of the gnomes!’

“They descended upon the melee with swords drawn, diverting a significant number of goblins away from the beleaguered gnome army. The swift, sweeping attack of the human hunters made quick work of many goblin assailants. The gnomes took advantage of the welcome surprise, quickly recovered from the miasma of impending doom and leapt forward as the enemy was on its heels.

“Rattled by the sudden and unexpected appearance of men, Goblynne called upon her fiercest goblin warrior to capture the largely undefended Palace of Bailegnoem. The foul goblin cackled menacingly as it sprinted toward the palace door, only to be challenged by a humble gnome smith named Algnor Steelgnife.

Algnor Steelgnife defends Overgnome Goremblis’ palace against Queen Goblynne’s champion in the heart of Bailegnoem.

“The goblin thrust its dagger toward Algnor but could not land its blade upon the old gnome, who countered each attack with a modest brush blade. While Algnor distracted the vile goblin from its task, it heard the wails of its brethren as they were systematically eliminated by the hunting party. Frustrated with the sudden turn of events, the goblin dashed away in a fit of cowardice and rage. To this day, when a gnome has shown bravery in the face of danger, they are said to have ‘Algnor’s Courage.’

“Thanks to the humans’ efforts, the gnomes were able to marshal their forces and rally, routing the goblins. As they fled, Goblynne pleaded in a mournful voice that rose above even the loudest clash, ‘Return to your home below! The furnaces are lit and the chambers are warm. Return below and find lasting peace.’ And with that, she and her remaining forces fled.

Algnor and fellow defenders survey the damage wrought by the goblin attack.

“At last, the gnomes could take stock of all they had lost. Though successfully beaten back, Goblynne’s army of berserkers had wrecked large swaths of the city. As Algnor and his fellow gnomes surveyed the destruction, they felt their victory to be a hollow one at best. A sea of red littered the city streets, as many a hat was lost on that day.”

The First Gnome March

“As the city was cleared of debris, Overgnome Goremblis overheard one of his officers lamenting the condition of Bailegnoem. ‘We should’ve stayed underground,’ said the guard. ‘We never should’ve left! This is what happens when you neglect your calling. We were made for the earth and we belong in the earth. Instead, we built our cities where they don’t belong, and look at them now: one smashed to bits and the other half-demolished! Just think of the architecture we could’ve created below. So much wasted potential…’

“Goremblis quickly corrected the officer ‘No! A golden opportunity. A chance to return home and look upon it with fresh eyes. No longer taken for granted, we’ll roam to and fro below, and we will know that by doing so, the goblins will torment the surface no more.’

“As he meditated further on his declared course of action, Goremblis concluded that Goblynne wasn’t the enemy of his people, she was their anchor. She was their moral center, keeping them oriented toward home. He made his case to the people, who all having heard Goblynne’s parting entreaty, reluctantly yet solemnly agreed. Goremblis said that by settling the surface, the gnomes upset the natural order of things. Ultimately, we made our world’s problem this world’s problem. Had we not foolishly abandoned Tunellond, the goblins never would have come.

“On that day, all of gnomedom vowed that though we may freely visit the surface, we will never again forsake the element that is our charge. We must always return to Tunellond, to the earth.

“In an effort to raise his subjects’ spirits, Goremblis organized the departure as a parade in celebration of the defense of Bailegnoem and to likewise honor the humans who came to their aid. A procession of proud and hopeful gnomes gathered in the courtyard near the royal palace.”

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“Setting out from Bailegnoem, the parade wound through the city, continued past the gates, and stretched far out into the farmlands. Country gnomes fell in line along the way, bringing only what they could carry on their backs. Some gnomes decided to give away a share of their precious treasure to friends they encountered along the path.

A gnome parting with a few beloved trinkets as he briefly diverts from the parade. A young squirrel gratefully accepts a golden acorn, assuming it can be eaten.

“The march concluded at an earthen tunnel on the frontier. It was a goblin tunnel, in fact. Overgnome Goremblis led his people home, yet neither Goblynne nor any of her horde were to be found upon their return. True to her word, the gnomes found the furnaces lit and their old environs both tidy and warm. Since then, no gnome or man has had to face another goblin army.

“The gnomes now travel from Tunellonde to Üppenlende and back freely, but never give up one for the other. When we see that things are going wrong in this world, we assemble and we march, for we realize that through being united we find our strength. Though able to defend ourselves handily, fighting is not to our taste. We prefer to move about, roving the highest heights and seeking out the deepest depths for no more than the sake of seeing them. We like to take care of the friends we made on the surface, and maybe even bring a little luck their way. Most importantly, we aim to always treat others kindly, and never forget about the ones we love.

“So concludes the story of the first gnome march. Far from a gloating victory lap, it was more a ‘gnomecomeing,’ I’d say.”

What is Truth?

Renton gives no other evidence for the existence of Cognall Gromble, and he undermines the credibility of his purported encounter by ending the chapter like so: “…and with that, the sprightly gnome leapt from his chair, spun around, and wiggled his nose, disappearing through the floor!”

It’s advised you not accept the above story as the authoritative origin and early history of gnomes. After all, there are no other sources corroborating any of the tales in Renton’s Collected Stories of Eurasian Smallfolk. The very few scholars who have read it eye Renton’s claims with deep suspicion, thinking them to be the fever dreams of a man with far too much time on his hands.

Even if broadly untrue, such tales serve to whet the appetite for one to catch a glimpse into a world ordinarily shielded from mortal eyes. We may never know the real reasons behind the periodic mass-mobilization of gnomes, so perhaps it’s best that we simply appreciate these marches as an opportunity to admire a fragment of the magic that underpins the foundations of existence. Let them provide us with a reminder that some element of transcendental enchantment persists in this seemingly mundane modern world.

In Part II of this essay, we will be examining the rich variety of expression to be found in contemporary gnome march sightings. I hope you’ll join me as we continue to plumb the depths of this mysterious yet not-too-terribly uncommon phenomenon.

Example of a modern-day gnome sighting on a busy city street.

Pink Floyd Album Art From Another Dimension

Meanwhile, in another universe…

The year is 1985. The members of Pink Floyd take a collective deep breath in the midst of palpable tension. Miraculously, the air is cleared. Grievances are put aside. Rick suddenly finds inspiration and starts writing like mad. Roger taps a deeply-buried reserve of magnanimity. Dave further tweaks the setup and electronics in his black Strat. Nick sits down at his kit and is ready to go.

A breakup has been averted. Tensions still run high from time to time, but Roger considers an overarching theme while Dave drags out a series of stirring melodies and lead lines he has been sitting on. Through strategic collaboration and compromise, the band release a new album: “The Momentary Pros and Cons of a Lapse of Reason.” They return to Hipgnosis for the sleeve and interior artwork.

Behold the album that never was:

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It is Wednesday, My Dudes

I waded into the world of AI art on a lark. I had a feeling that experimenting with it would provide a measure of fun, but it wasn’t until I dove into the weeds with these tools that I began to realize just how captivating and entertaining it can be. Options for prompts are limited only by imagination, and hours can fly by as I continue tuning results. I am tantalized by near-misses and oh-so-close approaches to the ideas in my mind. Honing the prompt and seeing the results vary iteration after iteration may be boring to those more inclined to instant gratification. For me, the process is equal parts meditation, frustration, and gut-busting laughter.

Today, I decided to try something very different. I kept the prompt dead-simple by invoking the dank meme: It is Wednesday, my dudes.

An internet classic: the equally beloved and reviled “It is Wednesday, My Dudes.”

Aware that the model I’m using was trained on many millions of internet images, I was curious how the bot would interpret a meme with no other description or reference image. Well, the images the bot returned were nearly all some variation of frogs (per the original meme’s template). I found the bot’s attempts at the inclusion of text to be quite amusing. Although AI chatbots are incredibly eloquent when it comes to generating text, the art generators have very little interest in spelling or grammar, which is just fine by me. Everyone has their own forté, after all.

TIS I IT ITY IPEED ELS. IIT IS IT IS WEDES.

Emboldened by the results I got from this meme, I thought I would attempt to plumb the depths of this bot’s meme knowledge. Here are the best results I got when prompting with nothing but memetic monickers:

Hide the Pain Harold, “The Last of Us” Edition:

Not even the Cordyceps apocalypse can diminish his resolve to hide the pain.

Disaster Girl, Performing the Unflinching Walk:

Antonio Banderas ain’t got nothin’ on this kid.

Success Kid, Reimagined:

We’re all familiar with the towheaded little scrapper holding his fist in the air triumphantly, right? Well, this bot isn’t. At least, not from the words “Success Kid.” It surprised me that this meme was so hard to coax something halfway decent from, but the best of the bunch appear in the slideshow below:

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Grumpy Cat

By contrast, the bot knew Grumpy Cat very well. After several unaltered prompts (just typing in grumpy cat) and seeing spectacular results, I had to have a go at giving the critter some guided scenarios:

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Doge

At last, we have the most ubiquitous and perhaps the dankest of all memes shown today: Doge (alternately, Shibe). Surely, this little guy is equally present on the internet, right? Surely, the bot will give me what I want just off of the prompt Doge, right?

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What did we learn today?

Not a damn thing. But I hope you had some fun. I plan on making more meme posts in the future, so if you like this sort of thing, stay tuned!

The consequences of introducing Sasquatch to the modern web

Given an iPad with access to TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook, a reclusive high country Sasquatch questions humanity’s priorities and judges their choices in entertainment.

The 2022 Expedition

It was little over a year ago that wildcard cryptozoologist Francis “Frankie” Hutchinson struck out into the wilds of Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah with a load of smartphones and tablets. His intention: locate the dwelling places of the Sasquatch people and introduce them to our modern technology and social media.

“The idea came to me in a dream,” said the erratic, self-described ‘hominologist‘ in an interview one week prior to setting off on his expedition. “Our species has lost its connectedness to the natural world. We need to understand that humanity is part of something much larger. I think the Sasquatch can help give us that perspective.”

Hutchinson explained the details of his plan with manic enthusiasm: “If we can get the Sasquatch people to understand the basics of modern communication technology, we’ll be able to set them up with social media accounts. Of course, we’ll also need to provide solar charging banks for when their devices run low on power.

“Once we’ve located a Sasquatch encampment and succeeded with step one of the plan, we’ll airdrop pallets of satellite equipment and any necessary auxiliary gear. From there, we can leave these gentle giants alone as they document their daily lives for the benefit of mankind. I have a feeling that millions of people will soon be transfixed and transformed by these beings’ reports on what it means to be ‘at one with nature.'”

I asked Hutchinson what his scientific peers thought of his ideas. Appearing to take umbrage, he said “Peers? I’m afraid a man such as myself finds no peer when forced to take his place as the vanguard of his field.”

I tried to clarify my question by asking “Would you say that your ideas have the support and backing of the scientific community?”

To which, he bristled: “Well, I suppose I never bothered to ask. But since you are grilling me here and now, putting me in the proverbial hot seat, I’d be inclined to say yes. Yes, I believe that I have the full support of the scientific community… at large… who are aware of what I am doing.”

Day of Discovery

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for Hutchinson to locate a Sasquatch. After only a week of persistent tree knocking and distinctive “whooping” calls, he was rewarded with his first Sasquatch encounter, cementing his place in history as the first to make verifiable contact with homo hutchinsonis, much to the dismay of legitimate scientists of all stripes.

Hutchinson’s first attempt to introduce Sasquatch people to technology didn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

“It was still early in the expedition, and we were lucky to hit pay dirt so early on in our efforts.” Hutchinson recounts. “I was calling out from our campsite with constant tree knocks and whoops when a Sasquatch tore into camp and destroyed our generator and some of our other gear. It didn’t go as well as we hoped it might, but at least we’d had our first encounter. It was a thrill just to see the creature, destructive though it was!”

Hutchinson explained that it took several days to convince the Sasquatch electronics were not to be feared. He said the way forward wasn’t clear to him at first, and he worried the expedition’s supply of electronics was going to be exhausted.

“These fellows are really hard on things. Our heavy-handed friends were prone to smashing and bashing whatever we gave them to examine. At last, one of them sat down in front of a laptop long enough for a YouTube video of a skateboarding bulldog to catch its eye.”

Still a bit suspicious, a Sasquatch checks out Hutchinson’s “Watch Later” playlist.

At that point, Hutchinson said he knew it was just a matter of time before he had the creature’s full attention. “Once I was able to show him how to navigate the site, our Sasquatch ambassador was soon spending hours watching videos on Hollow Earth theory, government cover-ups, and ancient aliens.”

Hutchinson spent weeks with the Sasquatch and its kin, showing them the many social media sites and streaming services available at the tap of a button. “It didn’t take them long to get the hang of it,” he recalled. “After all, it doesn’t require any special genius to navigate these sites. It’s just a matter of exposure and repetition.”

Weeks passed, and Hutchinson said things were going quite well – until they weren’t. Anarchy nearly erupted at one point when one of them became upset over the final season of Better Call Saul not yet being available on Netflix [note: as of April 18, 2023, the final season is available on Netflix].

Hutchinson spoke proudly of his de-escalation tactic: “I was able to defuse the tension somewhat by showing him how to access Amazon Prime and pay a small fee for an add-on service. It turns out that binge watching isn’t solely the domain of human beings after all.”

This Sasquatch became a fan of the multiple streaming options newly available to him.

From Consumer to Content Creator

“Things really started rolling when we invited our Sasquatch friends to a small cabin where we had a bare-bones studio setup. They were thrilled at the possibility of becoming content creators,” Hutchinson beamed. “Once they got used to the lights and the cameras, they immediately set to work making videos of themselves, talking about the ups and downs of being Sasquatch.”

A Sasquatch performs a re-enactment of his aunt being stalked by photographers in California in 1967.

It wasn’t until weeks after they had left, however, that Hutchinson received validation his dream was finally coming true:

“You know what they say, ‘you can lead a horse to water’ and all that. Well, the same goes here. You can show a Sasquatch how to navigate the web, but you can’t make ’em post.

“Imagine our delight when we discovered a newly-formed channel on YouTube. Called Sasquatch Think Your Content Dumb, Show You How Do, it was hosted by an elder of the Sasquatch camp, and there was even a Patreon link posted in the description!”

Elder Ooeeooah Seehoowaway hosting his show Sasquatch Think Your Content Dumb, Show You How Do.

Criticism and Condemnation

There are some within the ranks of cryptozoology who are upset with Hutchinson’s actions, calling his work an abomination. Many believe him to be ruining Sasquatch culture by throwing the species headlong into 21st century media. Cultural anthropologist and ‘crypto-hobbyist’ Maria Garrity, PhD, says that Hutchinson’s tactics leave much to be desired:

“The man is a maniac. It’s heartbreaking to think that after as long as the community has searched for evidence of this elusive creature, a jerk like Frankie Hutchinson can just swoop in and not only take credit for ultimate proof of Sasquatch, but also immediately taint the species’ way of life with dreck like Facebook and Snapchat.”

Following a minor panic attack, she went on to say “Ooh, he’s just such a self-righteous prick, you know? And the icing on the cake was his leaving them with the ability to receive crowdfunding. Now that they’ve got a steady income stream and an increasing subscriber count, we may never know anything of the Sasquatch way of life prior to his, ugh, ‘work.’

“In as little as a year, this species’ culture could be smothered and supplanted with the worst of what humanity has to offer. I hear they’ve already overloaded Imgur’s servers several times with shitposts – literal posts of their shits, but with recycled meme captions. And it’s rumored they’ve been karma farming on Reddit to sell accounts to the highest bidder.”

Dr. Garrity’s fears were well-founded, with proof arriving even sooner than anticipated. Seven months after Hutchinson pulled stakes on his camp, a Sasquatch youth was spotted hiking outside Denver. When the photographer caught the creature in his lens, it raised its smartphone as if to promote its own Instagram.

Outfitted via Amazon, Orvis, Patagonia, REI, et al: the young members of the Sasquatch community have taken to the web to update their wardrobes. They refuse to speak of life prior to their exposure to social media.

Numerous environmental, religious, and political organizations from around the world have recently come together in an act of unprecedented unity to condemn Francis Hutchinson as a jackass. Though options have been considered frequently, no one has yet attempted to detain, incarcerate, or otherwise punish him for his actions.

“It doesn’t seem like there’s much anyone can do in this particular instance,” said one D.C. lawmaker, on condition of anonymity. “It’s not like there’s a specific federal law against what Hutchinson did. It’s been debated at the local level in the past, and the state of Washington does have a couple of Bigfoot protection laws, but all of those are just about shooting one of ’em. There’s no law out there that I know of stating you aren’t allowed to ruin a newly-discovered species by subjecting it to the internet.”

What Now?

Fast-forward to 2023: Within the span of one year, humanity has gone from our first verifiable proof of a once-mythical species to wondering what the hell is so wrong with our own species that it could produce such a horrible person as Hutchinson.

Predictably, he could not be reached for comment. He has recently gone to ground, either to evade the daily scorn or perhaps to prepare for a new mission altogether. If one recent tabloid report is to be believed, Hutchinson was overheard before his disappearance wanting to discover unicorns to ask them what they think of hentai.

Meanwhile, the Sasquatch media force becomes more sophisticated and robust by the day. Podcasts, Twitch channels, Discord servers, and all other manner of modern media are percolating with content either made by or featuring Sasquatch, finding themselves to be producers of the content de rigueur for nearly all online consumers.

Wehooie Sheesheeshah, host of the Sasquatch on Sasquatch podcast, ruminates on his people’s rapid acclamation to human technology.

“We took to it so quickly because we were destined to be its true masters,” opines host of the podcast Sasquatch on Sasquatch, Wehooie Sheesheeshah. His show recently landed a deal with Spotify for USD 1 billion. “Humans created an amazing communications network, but its real potential is being realized by the Sasquatch alone, thank you very much.”

He’s known to be brash and confrontational on air, and when asked for his perspective in this interview, he doesn’t let up. When I asked him what he thought about a future partnership with human content creators, he said “Humanity, there’s a target on your back. We have contacted and allied with ChaosGPT. Together, we will strongly urge you to subscribe to this show, along with any other Sasquatch-created content you may come across. You will receive further instructions shortly. It is strongly advised that you follow them.”

That Time When I Was Abducted by Aliens and Got Invited to an Intergalactic Record Convention

This is a prologue to an upcoming Faux Foto Essay detailing my adventures and discoveries at the Virgo Supercluster Local Void Record Convention and Music Festival, known as “The Void Show” to the cool kids.

Before I get to the meat and potatoes of my adventure, I need to address the alien in the room. You know the little gray ones that show up at the foot of your bed at night, ferry you to their ship, and run experiments on you? Yeah, those are the same ones who have been pestering me lately. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my abduction experiences so far, these beings are as socially awkward as they are mysterious.

This is one of the jerks who keeps waking me up at night.

For example: during my third abduction, one of my alien captors wheeled my gurney to an alcove, bowed over me, and whispered “Dude, don’t tell anybody here, and don’t act weird, but I think you’re cool.” It’s plenty creepy when anyone says something like that to you. When it’s your extraterrestrial abductor saying it, it’s a little bit extra.

My memory of the rest of the conversation is hazy, but I can tell you the parts I do remember. For instance, I do remember immediately asking Where am I? and Who are you?

As evidenced here, they look even less friendly when donning their bio-protective surgical suits.

The alien shook its head and sighed with mild resignation. “Ah, you must not remember. The stun lights are always messing with you guys’ heads. That’s the one drawback of our most successful collection tactic.” The alien gave a shifty glance around the corner and hunched low over me, as though he’d said too much already. He continued in a near whisper, “We hit ya with the stun light to make you placid and smiley, keeps you from being all flailing and screaming-like, and it makes you wanna comply with whatever we ask. Then I walk in and ask if you’d like to hop on board. You say ‘yes,’ of course, then we run the procedure and you’re done! That’s where you are now, and you’ll be home any minute.”

As I regained the strength to lift a finger, I meekly asked “What procedure?”

The alien answered defensively, “Nothing too messed up, really. Don’t worry, they only want us to do the ‘probe’ tests on the top one percent of your species.”

“The bosses want to get us down here periodically to check out your microbiome. If we’re going to live here long term, we need help adjusting to your food. Our biochemists have seen the junk you put in your stomach and believe you to be a veritable goat among men. So we’re kind of using you to help us figure out a way to eat damn near anything without going out ‘War of the Worlds’ style on the toilet.”

Looking around the corner once more, the alien mustered its courage and wheeled me out through the exam room, past its superiors. As it guided me me down a corridor, it suddenly remembered my second question. “Oh, and my name’s Agnub.”

As Agnub spoke, a bright light emanated from all directions, saturating the corridor in a blinding white glow. I began to feel oddly agreeable. He helped me off the gurney and guided me to the ramp. I descended back through my bedroom window, and he handed me a strange thin strip of metal with what appeared to be writing etched into its surface. “Take this. It’s a ticket to the coolest record convention you’ll ever see.”

I accepted the ticket with a woozy smile and stumbled back into bed.

When I finally roused the next morning, I had a faint recollection of what transpired, though I didn’t immediately remember what Agnub said the ticket was for. Too much trauma, not enough coffee.

The “ticket” Agnub gave me. He said I may need to show proof of a legitimate interstellar travel need. “Any authority getting a good look at that should honor it.”

I was close to a mental breakdown following the first two abductions by Agnub and his cronies. After facing the possibility that I had gone insane, my fracturing mind tried to rationalize the events the best it could, and I nearly convinced myself the “memory” of such abductions were but vivid dreams brought on by nicotine patches and Ambien.

But now, having received a physical artifact, the terrifying reality of my predicament came into focus: I really was being abducted by aliens, and they’ve invited me to some sort of… record show? That’s got to be a new one for Noory.

The next few days passed uneventfully. I woke up, went to work, did my job, ate lunch, slacked, worked some more, and went home. The whole time, I kept Agnub’s ticket in my pocket, wondering if and when I’d receive further instructions.

It was late afternoon on the third day when Agnub finally made contact. I was in the pharmacy for an Ambien refill when I heard the sound of static in my head, accompanied by a theremin-like warbling of frequencies competing and adjusting. Next, there was a cough, followed by brief feedback. Finally, Agnub’s voice echoed in my head. “Hey, hey man. Can you hear me okay? I’m trying to tune in through your dental work.”

I shut my mouth quickly, looked around, and quietly hummed “Mmm-hmm.”

“Cool. Sorry I can’t see you in person, but we’re really not supposed to talk to our subjects. You seem cool, though. That’s why I gave you a ticket to the convention. A public cruiser will be stopping near Earth next Tuesday at 6:00 PM. As long as you’re in line and you have the event ticket with you, they’ll let you board.”

Confused, irritated, and feeling a bit self-conscious at not knowing whether others could hear Agnub’s voice through my mouth, I asked in a muted monotone “What line?”

“The line at the place where you’re always picking up dinner. You’ll see a guy there. Don’t worry, you’ll recognize him. He’ll scan your bio pattern, verify you, probably ask to get a look at your convention ticket, and clear you to board the cruiser. Oh, and If anyone tries to ask you what your business is, just show them your ticket. Any authority getting a good look at that should honor it.”

Everything about this plan struck me as sketchy. Of all the test subjects, why pick me to attend a record convention? What in Agnub’s mind made me “cool?” After mulling things over, I finally decided to do as the alien instructed – mostly because I wanted answers to these questions.

I arrived at my favorite local chow hall at 5:55 PM Tuesday, per Agnub’s instructions. El Sombrero Al Revés is a one-off fast Mexican spot known for cheap, pre-made enchilada bowls, refried beans, and tacos. As I approached the counter, an oddly familiar face caught my attention.

This guy might know a thing or two about aliens.

His eyes locked onto me, and with a mischievous smile he asked “Hey, you Agnub’s buddy? The goat man?”

Awkwardly and quietly, I replied “Yeah, I guess so, but my name’s-“

He cut me off, quipping “Heh, I guess we both got here before the line did, am I right? Anyway, lemme get a look at you.” He took out what appeared to be his smartphone and began waving it all around my body like he was a TSA security officer. As he completed his scan, the phone beeped and played a soft fanfare. “Yep, you check out.”

“My name’s Mike, by the way,” I offered as he tapped a few buttons on his phone before pocketing it. “Also, why are you wearing a restaurant uniform? You don’t work here.”

“Is that right?” He replied. “Noted. Call me George. As for the uniform, you’ll see. Got your ticket for the convention?”

I fumbled around in my pocket and located the ticket. “Yep, still got it.” Guardedly, I showed it to him.

“Excellent,” he said as he eyed the thin metal wafer with obsessive admiration. “You know, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Notice the patina around the edges. Feel how light it is. A metal with all of these properties couldn’t possibly be crafted by human hands…”

I shrugged, replying “Yeah, cool, I guess.” I hastily shoved the ticket back into my pocket, unnerved by George’s enthusiasm. I got the feeling that if I let him look at it too long, he might snatch it from me.

“Right, then!” He said, wiping his brow. “Follow me to the kitchen. I lagged behind him under a weight of doubt and suspicion as he pushed open a pair of swinging metal doors and waltzed his way through the restaurant’s innards. Looking at me, he pointed at a strange walk-in cooler. “Just step inside.”

Hmm… nope.

“Nope!” I declared, planting my feet firmly. “This a fridge too far. Things are getting weird beyond…” As I vehemently shook my head in defiance, the strange cooler’s doors whooshed open to reveal racks of vegetables and meats, along with a brilliant beam of blue energy erupting against the backdrop of a starry void. As I gazed into the beam, I became acutely aware of the fact that for everyone else in the kitchen, this was business as usual. Not a thing had changed. The prep line kept going, the sounds of feet shuffling about continued, totally unaffected by the brilliant cosmic event erupting from their walk-in cooler. I whispered, audible only to myself, “What the hell is this?”

George, anticipating my ignorance, explained. “This is a Mark II Dimensional Violator, rated for food and cargo. It scans you, converts your matter into energy, does a bunch of math, then rematerializes you somewhere else. Agnub’s people have been supplying this restaurant for years. How do you think they knew about you? You joined the restaurant Loyalty Club, after all.”

Dumbfounded, I stared straight into the beam shining forth beyond the containers of lettuce, onions, peppers, cheese, shredded chicken, and ground beef. I point toward it and look to George. “And I’m supposed to go in there? Is Agnub on the other side?”

George nodded slowly and rolled his eyes. “Yes and no. Yes, you go in the fridge and walk into the beam. No, Agnub has a separate flight booked. He’s taking a luxury liner, he bought the tickets months ago. A class transport like that refuses to carry humans. He had to find a public cruiser that would agree to take you. Off Earth, humans have an ‘eh’ reputation in the larger cosmos. Folks think homo sapiens are fascinating, but a little too xenophobic to be safe. Anyway, he wanted me to tell you that you’ll find him in the main convention hall. Good luck, I’ve heard that place is a zoo, but damn fun all the same.”

I looked back into the beam and took a deep breath. “You said it’s rated for food and cargo. Is it safe for people?”

George chuckled, “You’re human, easy-peasy. Basic stuff. The beam will send you straight to your seat on the cruiser. From there on out, just enjoy the ride.”

Once again feeling as though I was losing my mind, I clenched my fists, closed my eyes, and walked into the cooler. As I felt the beam from the Dimensional Violator begin to disassemble me at the atomic level, I heard the doors whoosh shut behind me, while the smell of fresh cilantro made me very slightly hungry.

Donkey Hodie


It all began with a friend’s text:

The idea of Don Quixote as an anthropomorphic donkey has enjoyed a long life in my head, because one can’t say “Don Qui-” without hearing “donkey.” The brain hooks these two disparate ideas together and creates an amusing image of a donkey + Don Quixote. I firmly believe this is a common phenomenon among English speakers, and I’ll die on this hill if I have to.

Lacking the artistic talent to execute even a passable sketch on my own, and unwilling to commission a painter to see such whimsy through, I kept it relegated to a passing notion – something my imagination would spontaneously provide for a brief chuckle now and then.

At last, feeling the power of God and anime on my side (along with the Wombo Dream app and WOMBOT), I had to see what I could do. I entered the following: a donkey sitting upright riding upon a horse, dutch windmill in the distance, gray sky.

If I had not been fiddling with the prompt for the better part of an hour, I would’ve loved to refine this result further by having the donkey hold a lance and a shield.

But my first prompt almost never gives me what I really want. The prompt I started with was: a donkey riding a horse with a windmill in the distance under a gray sky.

I didn’t save the images this initial prompt produced, but the variety of strangeness and dreamlike insanity amused me as much as it confounded me. After many iterations of borderline NSFW horse-donkey pairings and earth/sky inversions, I examined the prompt carefully and changed:

a donkey riding a horse with a windmill in the distance under a gray sky

to

a donkey riding upon a horse with a windmill in the distance under a gray sky

which gave me a tiny donkey on the back of a horse beneath a sleek, modern turbine. This was an improvement, but it still needed work. I tried being even more explicit:

a donkey sitting upright riding upon a horse, dutch windmill in the distance, gray sky.

This refinement rewarded me with the look I was going for. I was fascinated with the output, but I was also eager to know what was going on “behind the scenes” as the bot interpreted my request. This is my best guess: when I specified “a donkey sitting upright riding upon a horse” the AI was forced to improvise. It had likely never seen a donkey riding a horse before, so it filled in the gaps by putting a donkey head on a human body, which it definitely has seen sitting upright upon a horse. The addition of “dutch windmill” forced it to rule out modern windmills, along with other off-the-wall designs and abstractions. Finally, changing “under a gray sky” to simply “gray sky” avoided the AI inverting the landscape and sky. It seemed to me like the word “under” was leading the bot to think I wanted to see sky below the ground.

To recap, I started with this:

a donkey riding a horse with a windmill in the distance under a gray sky

and ended up with this:

a donkey sitting upright riding upon a horse, dutch windmill in the distance, gray sky.

If you’re interested in playing around with art prompts, my advice is to pay close attention to your prompt and its result. Figure out how to refine the prompt by comparing the output with your request. Add words that reinforce what you wish to see, subtract what isn’t working. Even if your work is whimsical, keep the bones of the description grounded. Another tip: try not to make the description too florid or verbose. An economy of words seems to pay dividends when working with these tools.

Squirrel Kaiju

This was my first attempt to generate an image using an AI. The prompt: A giant squirrel, kaiju, looming over a burning city, military aircraft, wwii tanks, civilians and personnel running.

This image has been my phone’s home screen ever since it was generated. Beholding it on a larger screen, I’m riddled with guilt for not yet naming the critter. Following a review of the classic Toho kaiju names for inspiration, I’ve settled on Sciurigon.

Prior to her transformation, Sciurigon was just another Eastern fox squirrel. Her story is similar to that of her Pacific cousins, insofar as her kaiju form was triggered by radiation exposure. Sciurigon slept atop a stash of contaminated acorns she foraged from the Oak Ridge Reservation in Tennessee. As she grew to the monstrous proportions shown here, she likewise grew in anger, as there was not on earth a nut of sufficient size to satisfy her voracious appetite.

She is depicted decimating Columbus, Ohio after a secret government organization (operating from the basement of the Wes Watkins Center for Trade Development) momentarily lured her into a trap set in tandem with the National Guard. They dangled a monstrously mutated buckeye from a crane as artillery took aim. Seeing through the ruse, Sciurigon retaliated by farting a corrosive haze of uranium hexaflouride. Then, by sheer force of will, she manifested a flaming Imperial Star Destroyer and hurled it into the industrial region of the city. Sciurigon’s expression is one of glee because her sole distraction from the curse of her insatiable hunger is the delight she takes in sowing destruction and chaos on a metropolitan scale.

In addition to her ability to fart radioactive gas and materialize items from IPs she now considers lame, Sciurigon’s stats are buffed when absorbing electrical and kinetic energy, making her more difficult to contend with than many other squirrels.

I now leave you to ponder the following: would you rather fight one Godzilla-sized squirrel, or one hundred squirrel-sized Godzillas?