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A few years ago, I was awarded a Professional Development Course for artists. Part of the homework was to write an Artist Statement. I worked and worked; polishing an eliminating, until I only had the kernel that was “me.” When I read it out; I was told: “That’s what everyone would say.”
I got tired of being known as just “Doug,” or “Oh, him,” or “If he’s coming; I’m not going,” and decided to remake my image — “Doug the Beloved” [the guy who used to be just “him.”] I was just about to announce this, when there was a Pandemic and the bar was closed — why does this sort of thing always happen to me?
February 23, 2021
Q: Where do flies go in the winter?
A: To your house [if you live near a factory farm.]
While the illustration is evocative of summer months, blow flies have become a year-round pestilence in rural America. In northern states, even in the winter, when the wind is in the right direction, factory farms open their shed doors and exhaust an extra big helping of flies.
When the snow flies, there are still blow flies for factory farm neighbors.
Book Excerpt
You Know You Live near a Factory Farm When Your Kids Go Fishing with a Pool Skimmer
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