Throwing candy bars in the pool…
Throwing candy bars in the pool…
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jasper steinbach and the village psychic

Hello darkness, my old friend, that same ol' same ol' time has come again where I find myself wavering between waves of procrastination and the subconscious terror of my hand being unable to cash the checks my mind has written [1]. So, instead of boldly facing my fears, I've designated today as the day I mope around the website mopping up all the loose ends and dangling threads—one of which being a tardy formal post congratulating Jasper Steinbach for his video drop on the Village Psychic and resultant #9 clip on the Quartersnacks Top 10 for April 26, 2024.

(Photo by Alex Sveda)

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1. I don't know if any other artists have a similar sounding handicap, but this is a condition that has menaced my discordant brain ever since it first crossed the threshold of the art department at Powell-Peralta on January 5, 1989. The few times I've tried to explain this perpetual mental adversary of mine to others it's mostly been met with, "What the fuck are you talking about, just shut the fuck up and draw." I'm paraphrasing, of course, but that's typically the general gist so I've learned to keep this embarrassing lack of confidence to myself and persist in procrastination until I have no choice but to buck-the-fuck-up, stare into the stark white void, and simply hope for the best to come out of my pen once it's backed up against the wall of a deadline—which, I'll readily admit, has not always produced a favorable outcome, aka horseshit. Anyway, this is the end of my sad-sack, soul-baring, self-therapy solo session. Thanks, me, for letting me get that off my chest, but it's now time to shut the fuck up and draw.


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  • Fd on

    Well fart in a conch shell and call my name 3 times for me to appear like Beetlejuice.. I was listening to Dracula Flows greatest hits and biting fart bubbles in the bath tub while smelling the dental floss when the psychic vibes hit my hypothalamus. I peered beyond the veil and to my surprise I saw the trifecta @ the pool party. I felt that graphic deep in my plumbs. It was like I was huffing early 80’s nostalgia out of gas can.
    From the looks of likes Robert for the win. Maybe @ Dumps next rally that fruitcake will try and play jumpin someone else’s train instead of please let me get what I want. Instead of a cease and desist from Johnny he will get a vodoo curse from Robert’s witchy vibes and shit the podium as a bull horn goes off. The blahg is definitely in the stratosphere and so is my sausage. Now pass the JIF as I go in for a moon landing to alien sex fiend on Ivanka’s landing pad.


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