A Prolific Instagrammar

In the Land of Head-Nod and the generational transition from love being a four-letter word to a three-letter word (luv), these illustrations are right up the alley cat’s arse. In my uber-busy life, I don’t have time to read—with the exception of tweets—tweetle-me-that. These illustrations are steampunkish and righteously weird. Reading is superfluous—the illustrations tell the story of Happyland with vivacity. There are 32 illustrations and a picture is worth a thousand words. I’ve read an exorbitant amount: 32,000 words. Sheesh! 32 grand is a bloated novella. I am from where we don’t just judge books by the cover, but by the illustrated guts and the back of the book. As a young’n’ in elementary, I would smell the back of the book and read the blurb. And the blurb would become my summary, but with slight changes. I write the review before I read the book, but reading the illustrations is kind of like reading the whole of the book. Reading the book will be mere formality, but I want to extinguish these thoughts from my mind and my opinion needs to be heard. It starts with a saddened girl ‘neath a hairy tree and ends with a picnic. They must’ve made it to Happyland. And his name must be Billy and her name is Lily. I see the little sugar cubes on the plate. See…I read the illustrations and dissect the tableau. hashtag, I like smoking hash when I play tag