#started using ms paint for the first three drawings but ms paint wanted a divorce so I used krita for the rest

[darklightmiwxo]

Mcr history

[B]MCR HISTORY IN DETAIL:

This is MCR history it is long and in details. This is different since I'm adding many details that not many people know. Hopefully you will enjoy this. I worked hard on this. These I found in websites,videos,fandoms,MCR magazines,etc. From baby to today but by dates.

[B]Babies/young kids:

[I]Gerard way/Mikey way :

Gerard Way was born on April 9th 1977 in New Jersey. He is half Italian. He later on had a back problem that affected him for the rest of his life (scoliosis) Gerard is allergic to cats. Mikey way was born September 10th 1980. Gerard and Mikey were very close to each other. They became best friends. Gerard and Mikey couldn't go outside and play with other kids since new jersey was very dangerous with murders and kidnapping happening often so Gerard and Mikey would just play with each other. Ms Way said that when Gerard ran mikey try to learn to walk but instead he try to run but he fell on his face. Gerard and Mikey grandma help them get into art she would give them papers and markers for them to use.

Here is baby Gerard and mikey:

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[I]Frank iero:

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Frank was born on October 31 1981 in New Jersey. Who has Italian in his blood. Frank was a only child. His parents divorced when he was very young.Frank's dad and grandfather played drums in their own band. Frank went to the hospital a lot and had lots of health problems he had ear infections, broncadus and he has a weak immune system he also had asma. Frank became a vegetarian when he found out about animals getting killed so he decided to not eat meat anymore.

Frank visited his dad only in the weekends he would take him to bars so Frank would watch him play. Frank's mom was poor she couldn't even buy milk which was said by Frank.

[I]Ray toro:

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Ray toro was born on July 15 1977 in New Jersey. He is Puerto Rican. He has 2 older brothers. Ray couldn't go outside to play with kids since new jersey was too dangerous.

[B]Kids:

[I]Gerard way/Mikey way:

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Gerard and Mikey went to the same schools. Gerard would often draw since he loved to draw. Gerard and Mikey often share music to each other. Gerard was bullied badly at school that he had to change school. Gerard joined to be part of a play at his new school he was Peter Pan. He sang his part on stage. Later on middle school started and Gerard and Mikey stayed in the same school but they both deal with bullying.

[I]Frank Iero:

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Frank was bullied often at school. He went to hospitals often still. He is very close to his mother. Frank's father made Frank try to plays some drums but he didn't want to play drums he wanted to play guitar so they gave him a guitar he played a few notes. frank self taught himself.

[I]Ray toro:

His older brother knew how to play guitar he would often give CDs for Ray to hear. His brother taught him how to play guitar and Ray learned guitar.

[B]Teenagers:

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[I]Gerard Way:

Gerard Way learned to play a little bit of guitar. he gotten really good at drawing. He joined a band in high school but he got kicked out for not playing a song they wanted. He also wasn't good at guitar. So Gerard and a friend of him made a comic book together. But some how they couldn't sell it in a comic book store. Gerard spread all summer copying another art style of another comic book but soon he made his own style. Gerard was still bullied at school.

[I]Mikey way:

he dreamed to be in a band and it was always his dream.

[I]Frank Iero:

Frank played guitar well he would often get beaten up at school. Frank created a band called pencey prep with his school friends.

[I]Ray Toro:

Ray toro became a pro guitarist he learned to play metallica songs.

[B]Young Adults:

[I]Gerard:

He went to art school after he finished high school. They taught him some things. Gerard met a friend who introduce him to Ray Toro. Gerard art did well that he worked for cartoon network to make a tv show. Gerard was drawing for a show He was working on a show called the breakfast monkey show. Gerard and Ray made a song together for the show. The intro of the song. On September 11th 2001 Gerard went to New York for a final meeting for the tv show. On his way to the meeting he saw a plane hit a tower. Then another plane hit the other tower. Gerard watched people around him cry and with fear but Gerard said he didn't sad. He was afraid of what was going to happen to the world he though are you happy where your life is right now. Is this really important. So the meeting was canceled. Gerard went home and wrote the first MCR song "Skylines and turnstiles". Gerard met Oliver who worked at a bar he was his friend and he often chatted with him. Gerard asked him if he could be part of his band he was making.

[I]Ray toro:

Gerard called him. Ray haven't seen Gerard for a while since Gerard was always in his house avoiding human contact. He asked Ray if he could be part of his band. He told him to come over to check out what they were making he didn't have to join but he wanted him to come over. So Ray went over to Oliver's house. Gerard showed him the song he was making Ray joined the band.

[I]Mikey Way:

Mikey heard of gerards band. He heard their music and he loved it that he took bass classes and joined the band.

[I]Gerard way:

The band created a few songs then they went to eyeball records they were outside their door and they asked them if they could be signed they gave them their music for the label to hear. The label loved it so they signed them. A radio host who was there heard of the band and he said he will put them on the radio which he did and it gain them fans.

The band didn't have a name.

Gerard and Mikey worked in Barnes and novel. Gerard worked in the music area while mikey worked in the book area. Mikey one day looked behind a book and the reviews said tales of chemical romance so mikey thought what if you put my in front of it. Mikey told Gerard his idea and Gerard loved it he thought it fit the band with their music and the band in general.

[I]Frank iero:

Frank worked on a album for pencey prep once he was done they sign with eyeball record and started to do tours. Frank once went to a party and he saw a woman fighting with another woman she punch the girls face. Frank fell in love with the girl that girls name was jamia.

Frank heard of MCR since the label would gave random CDs to the bands part of the label. Frank said we often hear Mcr demos in the car when we go around town to do shows.

[B]Bullet era:

Gerard went to a bar with mikey and Alex from eye ball. They went for a drink. Gerard saw pencey prep playing their show. Gerard Said he was amazed by Frank who was destroying the stage with the energy he had he looked like he was playing for thousands of people and that was what the band needed. Gerard knew they needed a new guitarist since he couldn't play guitar. He met the kid and they became friends.

Pencey prep would often travel to many states in a podcast Frank said that pencey prep would work on their music in each other's parents basement. They rented a building in a warehouse which was shared with other bands they knew mcr during this time. They would play music in a small room in that place even one of the band members live in that place with some other band member of a different band. One day one of the members of pencey prep broken down the wall of the room they played in to make it bigger since it was 2 separated room they made it to one big room and that is where mcr did their album and other bands pencey prep invited. Gerard and Frank painted in that room together at night and the chemicals of the paint had made both Gerard and Frank high. They later on blame that another band that run a party and made a big mess broken down the wall and lying saying that they didn't actually break it. They did get away with it.

*casual interactions on YouTube podcast*

Later on Pencey prep tour with Thursday and MCR. MCR was poor but Frank was nice enough to let them use the back stage room.

MCR played a few shows and gain fans. The radio host said fans were obsessed with vampires will never hurt you.

They often ask him to play it.

MCR were recording bullets but Gerard had a teeth problem and also anxiety. His tooth hurt him so much he would hit his head on the wall,bang his head on a car hood and he would cry and scream so badly that he often went to the hospital. He also had fear. He was going to give up he said "I can't do this anymore" the producer yelled and slapped his face to get his shit together and do the recording. Gerard later on got surgery on his tooth.

Pencey prep broken up

[B]I am a graveyard

Frank's band that didn't go as great as pencey prep. Only three members of pencey were in this band and one of the members of pencey left. They played a few shows but then they broken up.

Gerard asked Frank if he could join the band since they needed a guitarist and Ray couldn't play every guitar part. Frank said yes you guys are my fave band. MCR created have already created a few songs without Frank but 3 songs on bullets had Frank in it. Like early sunset over Manhattan for example. Ray and Frank said their ways are different Ray was more the metal kid while Frank was the punk rock kid but it worked. Frank could play parts Ray couldn't play and Ray played parts Frank couldn't play.

I brought you my bullets you brought me your love was released in 2002. The radio host played the album on the radio. MCR opened for Thursday,taking back Sunday. Fans loved MCR and they gain fans. Soon MCR traveled outside the state's Gerard and mikeys grandma brought them a van for tour.

The band went on tour as they played for fans in small venues. Even the place was too small for the fans since many people wanted to see them. Brian their tour manager made Gerard meet the used. He met bert and thought he was crazy but they later on became good friends

(Very good friends they became boyfriends)

Gerard started drinking and doing drugs with bert. Frank and jamia became girlfriends and boyfriends. MCR were poor they didn't have much food or clothes. They said they were used to a hungry stomach. But other bands were kind enough to give food and clothes to them. Their album didn't make it to record stores. So fans didn't have a way to buy the CD it was limited. MCR didn't even have merch to sell. Gerard made his own merch called thank you for the venom.

MCR became more popular.

Gerard was sexually confused

In 2003 there was a party mcr attempted. This was planned. It was filmed.

Frank was with Gerard and jamia next to him.

A guy was fighting Gerard. Frank fighted the guy to protect Gerard he ran after the guy but Ray stopped him.

Gerard and bert tour together and they made a song.

[B]Revenge era:

Gerard and mikeys grandma died. Which affected the band they made a song for her.

Warner brothers wanted to sign MCR but they rejected many labels they soon said yes to them. The band gotten a tour bus.

They had a producer named Howard who helped them create a album the band would create something and they think he will like it but he hated it he told them what is this going to be, what are you saying. They soon made songs he would like.

Once the album was done they kicked out Oliver when they finished the bullet tour. They kicked him out for not playing well he didn't want to use drum beats. He mess up often when playing so they kicked him out. They gotten Bob who he played in other bands as a dj and they didn't know he could play drums. Bob is from Chicago. He was all about tech and that is what the band needed. He joined the band.

Gerard was on his worst of the drugs and achohol that it made him sick he was very depressed and suicidal they were going to finish the album when Gerard was going for a walk and he wasn't seen for 2 days Frank was asking for help for people to find him.

Gerard was found.

Gerard said he did men favors for cocaine.

(Gerard and Frank started to be more than just friends they became boyfriends. Frank was a swinger so he had both Gerard and jamia. She seem ok with it because if she wasn't Frank wouldn't date Gerard. This is part for the frerard shipper)

Three cheers for sweet revenge was release they started touring. They went to Europe and Japan. While in Japan Gerard was getting worst he was throwing up so much. He once throw up for 45 mins then he said he was done.

Gerard became clean.

Their first music video was made it was I'm not okay and they gotten popular the shows gotten bigger they played in bigger venues and outdoor concert places.

MCR were always dirty they couldn't shower for many days and they smelled bad their clothes were always dirty. They toured with fall out boy for a while even Jimmy eat world and other bands. They were nominated in the vma.

The album gotten awards later on.

They did a world tour.

Gerard gotten a girlfriend named Ellie (aka the crazy fan)

[B]The black parade era:

The band were done touring they created some songs in the tour bus (I don't love you,teenagers) they wanted to stay in a cheap house. So they stayed in a haunted mansion. Mikey said he was feeling lost and depressed when they were on their way to L.A and the haunted house was making his problems bigger. The mansion name is called the paramour house. There were rumors of ghost and the place being haunted. Celebs would stay there often to make music or work.

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They stayed there for 6 months.

Mikey didnt want to stay in the room upstairs so he stay on gerards floor. He often sneak from the bathroom to sleep on the floor next to Gerard. Some friends of theirs ask who had one of the rooms which was where Mikey was suppose to stay in and Gerard looked at Mikey in a joke kinda way but Mikey didn't want to say it. Frank stayed in a room away from the other rooms, Rumor said that the actor of friends ran out the room screaming. Plus a singer made a song with a ghost. Frank said the room was fine but he heard stuff that he thought was a raccoon and he said if it's actually a ghost she has a bad voice. Water would often suddenly start in bobs room. While they often hear door slamming and saw a few ghost around. Gerard was going crazy he was writing words on the wall. Ray was playing a random song that Gerard was mad at him for not playing a song for MCR. Ray played the song really fast since he was very stressed. Mikey left the house to see a therapist he was seeking help for his mental health. But he would come to the mansion to record songs. All the band had a problem with depression,anxiety,self doubt,and stress trama. The band often hear door slams and Mikey said he saw a few ghosts. Bob said in a interviews for the alternative press book that the band often had family breakfast. They played music in the ball room. Bob said we have a support room we would put up notes if we have a problem and we would talk about it. One day Bob went to rays room and he saw Ray brushing his teeth he was shaking. He asked him what happened and Ray said he saw a old lady ghost walking down the stairs.

Gerard gotten ideas he showed his idea to the band and they use it they recorded songs. One day they were trying to finish the last song. The band went to get coffee. Gerard was left alone thinking of ideas when they band returned Gerard created the song. They were inspired by his words. The band quickly left the mansion they were tired of it. They gotten a apartment that they stayed in for a while. The black parade album was made. Soon they started to tour. They first open up for muse in their concert in the U.K they were the first American band to play in that arena then they brought muse to tour with them in america.

They made a music video for famous last words but frank knocked Gerard which tore the muscle of his foot that he had to use a cane. There is fire in the video that Bob burned his leg he got a 2nd degree burn and the burn infected his face area that it enter his blood and he went to the hospital it almost went to his brain thankfully they saved him.

One day the band were in virgina with muse. Frank didn't go out for dinner since he is vegetarian and Gerard slept over that day (hmm it seems like something else huh)

Ray,bob,and mikey had dinner with muse matt,chris,and dom. They gotten food poison by the restaurant that both bands were sick for many days.

When they went to the U.K they gotten hate by the British people since the news said that MCR is a cult leader because one MCR girl ended her life. They treated MCR badly but they didn't care they won over them.

Frank often was sick on tour.

Then project revelation (Gerard broken up with his girlfriend) they toured with mindless self indigent,linkin park,blink 182,and the killers. (The most gay era for Frank and Gerard)

Gerard falling love with lynz. He broken up with Frank. A month later he married her. The frerard fight happened.

(Rumor said that Ray saw Frank sobbing in the bathroom)

Frank broken his toes that he had a cane.

Break:

Frank married jamia.

Ray married his girlfriend.

Frank created leather mouth.

While Gerard was making his comic books since revenge. The Umbrella academy comic book gotten awards. And Gerard was working on doom patrol while making more umbrella academy books. Ray had a kidney failure.

Frank had to remove his wisdom teeth since it infected his mouth that it made his mouth and nose bleed. He also had stomach pains that he would take pills for it.

[B]Danger days era:

The band had children (gerard,frank,and ray)

The band thought they were running out of ideas. They made a song for a movie then they try to make conventional weapons but they gave up on it they scrap it and they then made the danger days album. Basic off Gerard ways comic book series danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys. The band became superheroes. Once they finished danger days they kicked Bob out over drama something to do with mikey cheating on his wife with another girl that Bob bullied him. Gerard kicked him out of the band. They gotten Michael who they made him the new drummer.

The band went on tour around the world.

Soon they finished touring they kicked out Michael for stealing in the band he was stealing band stuff.

Gerard decided to break up the band suddenly he didn't tell Frank

Frank didn't know about the break up so he was confused. Mikey divoide his wife.

[B]MCR broken up.

[B]During the break:

Frank created death spells in 2012 before the break up happened. Below I posted during the break wiki and Frank's band history wiki.

Frank created another band called Frank iero and the celebration.

Mikey was very depressed he taken drugs and he overdose in them that he was in a coma for many weeks. This also made Gerard depressed.

Gerard made solo music he created a album and was touring around places. He became a vegetarian.

Ray toro made solo music he created his own album.

Mikey joined a band called electric century.

Bob became a real estate agent also a plane flyer.

In 2017 Frank created another band called Frank iero and the patience.

Gerard worked more on his comic books.

Mikey married his girlfriend.

Ray was unknown in this era.

Frank was touring around the world. he went to Australia his band were in the car of the parking lot in the airport when a bus ran the car over it pulled Frank a few miles away from the car the band went to the hospital. Frank broken his arm while everyone else broken their legs and arm. Frank can't play the same again so he can't jump around stage and play guitar for a long time if not his arm will hurt he did not have surgery. Gerard,Ray, and Mikey went to Frank's show. Once a year mcr would bring their wife and kids and have a barbeque together to talk about plans.

In 2018

Gerard was working on the umbrella academy tv show and his other umbrella academy book. Plus more doom patrol stuff.

Mikey was making his own comic books also his wife had 2 kids by this time.

2019:

Frank created a new band Frank iero and the future violents his album barriers came out may 2019. Gerard release the umbrella academy tv show plus his other umbrella academy books.

Mikey release more comic books for collapser.

Ray collab with Gerard with 2 songs for the umbrella academy. They are cover songs.

On Oct 31 2019,

Frank's birthday was happening and fans said happy birthday to him. Frank then said it's raining outside today I can't do nothing today so we have to do something else. Then Frank tease a image he was the first one to say mcr returned then the other band members did it too. So MCR reunion happened MCR is back on Halloween

On Dec 20 2019,

It was the first MCR show since the break up in California 2019.

Now in 2020 MCR are touring now but due to the virus the band has to move some dates.

More dates will be added.

Gerard Way is working on season 2 of the umbrella academy tv show.

That's all of mcr history hopefully you readed all of this. Hopefully you enjoyed this. I will update this page if anything new happens. Check out the other wiki. If I forgotten anything I will add it here.

Here is info you can find for some of these.

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There is another video I can't find but I saw it ages ago.

The other details I got them from the book in the first photo which you can get in the alt press website it's cheap but they got stuff in there about the band.

Please check out the wiki below they are part of mcr history too.

Thanks for having the patience to read this wiki.

Please share it.

I will add pictures later to this wiki. This took me hours to make this.

[e-king-court]

It’s that time of year again...

...and by that I mean it's my birthday.

 I don't generally celebrate my birthday. It became A Thing after my parents divorce, and since then, it is definitely a cursed day (last year I got a whole pandemic, so...)

This year, however, I decided I wanted to write me a story. Some months back, while scrolling through Facebook (I know, I know) I came across a post of a post that was a plot bunny. It was a tweet from user @JohannesEvans that read:

Hot goth in the woods that keeps answering the door and sighing and going "no, I'm not the witch, he lives over there" and points across the street to a dazzling pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat who's waving excitedly at them

I immediately wanted to write it. So I did.

 Now, to no one's surprise, I didn't start this story until roughly a week ago, so... well, it's almost done. So, for now, just to say I've properly celebrated my birthday, please allow me to share with you the first half or so of this silly story. It's rough, really rough, and doesn't have a title. I'm not thrilled with it, but... guilty pleasures, etc. Enjoy!

Quiet. That’s what the little alternative community in the woods had offered. Peace, acceptance, solitude. Quiet.

So Locke bit back a curse when someone knocked on his door for the hundredth time that day. Poppy seeds scattered across his work bench when he jumped because of course he hadn’t used a measuring spoon. Why would he use a measuring spoon for the smallest ingredient? Obviously, pouring straight from the bottle is the best way to measure poppy seeds.

The knocking persisted. Locke sighed and set the bottle down with a thud and rattle of chains. He stomped his way up front and tugged the door open, startling the pair of young women standing on his doorstep. Their eyes widened and the three of them stared at each other for longer than Locke thought was polite.

“Can I help you?” He didn’t growl. This was good communication skills.

The two seemed to shake themselves. “Are you Mr. Devereux?”

Locke sighed. “Which Mr. Devereux?”

They blinked and exchanged a confused glance. “We, um… we’re looking for a spell.”

“Then you want the witch.” He pointed a long arm over their heads toward the obnoxious display across the street. “That Mr. Devereux.” As one, they turned and Locke followed their gaze.

Sebastian was lounging in a pool chair, a cheap thing with neon yellow piping and no pool in sight. He was surrounded by colorful plants, flowers, and enough suncatchers to make any light fairy jealous. Locke was dismayed to see that he was sunning. Long legs, waxed and bronzed, stretched up to the hem of a pair of nautical striped boyshorts. A too small gold waistcoat revealed a pierced belly button and parted with sequined lapels and a collection of charms and pendants against his chest and the hollow of his throat. Golden blond hair was classically cut, cropped close to the sides and left almost strategically messy on top. Locke was not surprised to see the flash of glitter, either put there intentionally, or polluted from the obnoxious, glittery, sun-shaped sunglasses taking over most of his heart-shaped face.

His smile was almost blinding as he waved. “Hey, gorgeous!”

Locke frowned as his face went hot and wished for the hundredth time since moving in that he was the kind of goth that wore full face makeup. “That’s the witch.”

The women gawked at Sebastian, turned and gawked at Locke glowering in the doorway, and then looked at each other.

“Umm… sorry,” the apparent speaker of the duo said, and they turned and fled across the street, whispering to each other as they went. Sebastian stood and stretched, that waistcoat riding higher and those boyshorts hugging… well, everything. Locke sighed and shut the door with a snap.

Newlight Falls was advertised as a quiet town with a village-like atmosphere, tucked away in the old growth forest and home to those who didn’t fit in elsewhere. It was home to all sorts of paranormals, which included an uncommon amount of witches, plenty of fairies, and the obligatory pack of werewolves. Being that it was only an hour away from three major cities, it had become a bit of a tourist attraction, replete with warm-weather festivals that the fairies almost exclusively coordinated. Locke wasn’t a fan, but they were good for the town and good for business.

Even with all that, Locke fell in love with the place almost as soon as he saw it. He’d found the listing on Will’o, trying to find something close to the doctors he needed, but not directly in the city. Not only was his dark little cabin perfectly suited to him, but being back in the woods meant plenty of shade and long trails that he could disappear into if the festivities got to be too much.

It was also supposed to be haunted, which, perfect, but so far he hadn’t experienced much more than a few things being moved and a book or two knocked to the floor. No great shakes, really.

With the image of Sebastian’s sparkling navel piercing embedded in his mind, Locke sulked back to his work room to clean up the poppy seeds and see if the tea could be saved.

“Locke!” Benji’s happy voice boomed, big arms open and face nearly split by his smile.

Locke returned his smile but stayed sequestered on the front stoop out of the sunlight. Benji came to him without question, wrapping him up in the kind of bear hug only large goblins could give. He grunted and gave Benji’s back a pat as the air was squeezed out of him. “Hey, Benj.”

“Good to see you, you look good. This place looks great,” he said, stepping back to appraise the front of the house. To most, it needed some work, but Locke was partial to the busted exterior shutters and chipping grey paint.

“Thanks, the web is real, orb weaver, real beauty,” he said, motioning to the port window overhead.

Benji’s smile went tight and strained. “Love it,” he grunted like it hurt. He cautiously turned his attention away from the spider. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“Of course! Make my favorite sibling miss Fairy Fest after listening to him whine about it for ten years? Fat chance. C’mon, I’ll show you your room,” he said, motioning Benji in.

Benji grabbed his suitcase and thundered up the steps. “This place has a guest bedroom?”

“Eh….” Locke whined and didn’t answer further. It did, but the guest bedroom was where he’d put his workroom and it would have been too small for his hulking brother anyway. Instead, Locke had cleaned up his own bedroom and got a cot for his workroom. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable, but he could deal with it for the week that Benji was visiting. It wasn’t often they got to spend time together one on one.

They wandered in. Locke waved over the small living room, through the doorway to the small kitchen and dining nook, the water closet under the stairs, and then brought him up to the attic that made his bedroom and the full bathroom for his use during his stay. Benji caught on quick, but didn’t say anything, no doubt having considered how small the house was.

“We’ll have to share the shower, but otherwise, this room is yours for the week. I, uh… can’t say I’d be real thrilled if you picked someone up at the Fest, but, I’ll be the best wingman I can be,” Locke said, drawing the curtains back from the port window to let some light into the room.

Benji chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Thanks, man, this place is great. Mostly,” he said, eyeing the spider visible through the window.

Locke smirked. “Ghost isn’t too rowdy, either.”

“Ahha, of course you’d have a ghost,” Benji said with a self-deprecating laugh. Locke’s grin went cocky and he thumped his way back down the stairs.

“I gotta make a product run when dusk rolls around if you want to see the town proper tonight. There’s not a lot except some kitschy shops, but you might like one of the little restaurants for dinner,” he said, wandering into the kitchen.

Benji hummed and sniffed the air, eyes landing unerringly on the box that took up most of the little dining table. It was full of Locke’s teas, creative little blends in labeled linen baggies waiting to be delivered to the shops in town he was contracted with. “Sure, I’d love to see the place.”

“Cool, you can carry the box,” Locke said, wandering back to his workshop. Benji’s laugh made the windows rattle.

A few hours later, with the sun set enough that it didn’t irritate Locke’s eyes and skin overly much, he was leading an easily distracted Benji through town. The whole town was decked out for Fairy Fest, covered in lights and flowers and full to bursting with fairies. They flitted about in showers of sparkling color, some already celebrating by tossing petals or handful of pixie dust over the myriad of tourists also steadily filling the streets. Locke would have felt out of place in all his black and chains, but there were plenty of darker fae around, too. If anyone stood out, it was his rather large foster brother, his impressive figure causing people to practically dive out of the way, even as poor Benji apologized.

“Stop apologizing, Benj, you’re only walking,” Locke said with a smirk.

Benji was all tight frowns. “I feel bad, though.”

“Don’t, you’re fine. This is us, though,” he said, veering for a shop door. Benji followed, uttering a few more unnecessary apologies as they went.

The dark little mystic shop was one of Locke’s favorites. It was an evening shop and sold pretty much the same stuff that the rest of the kitschy shops sold, but it was themed dark. Spangled black and purple curtains and tapestries kept most of the natural light out, the shelves all made of cast iron and mahogany. The goods skewed toward occultish, but nothing available to the general public could cause any trouble. Even the obsidian athames were blunter than a letter opener. There were more exotic wares in the back, but the owner, Ms. Gloushire, was highly selective when it came to those sales. Even Locke, who was a resident, didn’t have her convinced, but he was getting there. Not that there was anything fancy he needed for his teas.

Benji, of course, veered right for the collection of polished stones and crystals. Locke grinned and teasingly hissed for him not to touch all of them. Benji glared at him but didn’t put down the peacock ore he’d already snatched from the display.

“Ms. Gloushire?” he called when he saw the front end empty.

“Is that you, Locke!?” a muffled shout echoed from the back.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sliding his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

A moment later Ms. Gloushire was whacking her beaded curtain out of the way and she smiled warmly at Locke before her eyes settled on Benji. “Oh, you have a friend today.”

“Yep. My brother, Benji,” he said. “I have the tea for you for the Fest. The Starry Night, Full Moon, and Crossroads.” He set his box down on her counter beside the register and pulled back the flaps.

Her face lit up and she rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, excellent. Everything work out all right with your last check?”

“Yes, ma’am, not problems at all,” he said, smiling softly.

“Good. All this newfangled equipment. I know it’s more convenient for the Norms, but electronics and magic don’t always mix well. But if everything’s fine, then it’s fine,” she said, casting her new POS system a distrustful glare as she dug into the box of teas. Locke just chuckled and waited patiently for her to finish her counting and inventorying. Satisfied, she marked it all down and set the box aside.

“All right, dear, everything looks to be in order. If I need anything else, I’ll call you,” she said.

“Yep, you know where to find me. I gotta stop at Coriander’s. You have a good night,” he said, flicking down his sunglasses.

“You too, Locke. Pleasure to meet you, Benji,” she said with a suspiciously sharp smile. Benji tittered nervously, thanked her, and they were off.

The stop at Coriander’s was brief and uneventful. Locke handed over the second box of teas, things packaged in lighter bags with more spritely names, while Benji was one again glued to the shiniest objects the shop had to offer. Even with Coriander chatting at top speed about a new topic every few seconds, they were done relatively quickly. He said his farewells to the bubbly sprite, flicked his sunglasses down, and turned toward the door, only to be blinded anyway.

Sebastian was in the doorway, pushing his outrageous sunglasses onto the top of his head as he meandered into the shop. As soon as he saw Locke he smiled and Locke frowned at the butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey beautiful,” Sebastian said, smooth and a little high. His eyes instantly flicked to Benji and his expression went briefly blank, before he smiled again and got a little swagger. “Well, well, who is this delightful new face?”

Locke glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to see Benji’s face dark with blush. His greenish skin and purplish blood made him look a little brown, but it was definitely a blush. Locke didn’t blame him.

“Sebastian,” he said. “My brother, Benji. Here for the Fest.” He cleared his throat before his voice broke and ignored the look Benji gave him.

Another expression briefly flickered across Sebastian’s face, this time more surprised than blank, and quickly settled into a coy grin. “Brother? Well, welcome to Newlight Falls, Mr. Benji. I’m Sebastian Devereux, Locke’s neighbor,” he said, sauntering forward and offering his hand. He was a head shorter than Locke, which had Benji nearly towering, but as usual Sebastian’s confidence was unwavering. Locke figured it would have to be with a neon pink sequin sarong over those...shorts.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Devereux,” Benji said. “Which neighbor would you be?”

“The one across the street, handsome. Incase you ever need to borrow a cup of sugar,” he said with a wink. Benji grinned stupidly and Locke nervously fussed with his lip ring. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have some tea to stock up on.” He winked at Locke, who barely resisted watching as Sebastian sauntered past. He huffed, tugging his hood closer to his face, and hurried out of the shop, leaving Benji to scurry after him. Maybe the hood and sunglasses disguised his blush enough? He certainly hoped so.

--

“So how are the infusions going?”

Locke looked up from pushing around his caprese. “Hmm? Oh, they’re fine. They’re infusions.” He cut a bite of cheese and tomato. “I had one last week and I think I’m scheduled for the week after next. Mostly vitamin D right now.”

Benji nodded, obliterating a half-pound cheeseburger and fries. “I remember summers are harder.”

Locke shrugged. “Yeah, but being here has been really great. The woods are so dense that I don’t always get a rash, so I can be outside more during the day.”

Benji’s face lit up. “Oh! That’s really cool! Mom and dad will be happy to hear it. See? I told them this was a good move for you.”

Locke huffed. “What, me telling them how great it is wasn’t enough?”

Benji waved him off. “You know how they are, they always worry about you.”

It wasn’t unwarranted. Locke had been a sick kid with all kinds of health issues and sensitivities, not the least of which was chronic anemia. At the time, being in and out of foster homes like he was, it had been difficult to narrow down his symptoms. Until Dan and Lori snagged him, the pale, scrawny, constantly exhausted thing that he was, and gave him a solid foster home to grow up in. Within the first year they’d discovered he had vampire heritage, which explained the majority of his weird symptoms. It wasn’t enough that he had to have transfusions, but it still meant he was anemic and allergic to too much direct sunlight. After that, with the support of his new foster family, Locke improved enough that he was able to finish school, and even got a degree.

Now, with a healthy lifestyle, he could live pretty normally, even if he still needed to be monitored monthly. Newlight, on top of being paranormally inclusive, also happened to be an hour away from the office that handled his case, which was still better than the two and a half hours he’d been traveling while still living near Dan and Lori. They might not have adopted him, but they still considered themselves his parents, and made quite the fuss when he moved so far away from them.

“Well, I really am doing great. You can tell them that I'm happy and healthy and even the ghost doesn’t bother me too much,” he said.

Benji snorted. “Lori would flip her lid if she knew you had a ghost.”

Locke grinned and didn’t think Lori would honestly be too surprised.

Other than the caprese salad, the choice of restaurant had been deliberate. It sat across from a stretch of woods with a marked path, and that path just so happened to let out a few yards from Locke’s house. The dark fae of Newlight loved to fill it with all sorts of mischief, some of which was quite pretty depending on the mood. With it being tourist season, and the endless woodland trails a huge attraction, Newlight had strict ordinances for what was and wasn’t allowed on the public paths. Benji was hesitant to take the woods home, but Locke assured him it was quite safe so long as they stayed on the path.

True to form, the woods were full of eerie giggles and mysterious lights, shrubs shaking and twigs snapping in the shadows along the lit path. The usual lamps that ran along the ground had been replaced with overhead string lights, zigzagging back and forth  like a trail of will-o-the-wisps. Since the sun had finally set, Locke was able to shuck his hoodie and take off his sunglasses. Extreme temperatures had never really bothered him, but the summers could be pretty oppressive. It was nice to feel cool night air on his skin.

Half way home, a fairy appeared, a curvy woman in a diaphanous lavender dress and long, curling black hair. She hovered her way across the path, watching them with a wicked grin and shining black eyes.

“Evening, Iris,” Locke said casually. Benji made some choking noises behind him and Locke suppressed a grin, imagining his brother was blushing so hard he was almost purple.

“Hello, Locke. Who’s your friend?” she asked, moving a little closer.

“This is my brother, Ben.”

Her grin got even more mischievous. “Nice to meet you, Ben,” and she was off again, disappearing into the trees on the opposite side of the path. A symphony of chittering laughs hit them and Locke snorted.

“Wow,” Benji huffed as they kept moving, eyes nearly glued to the spot.

“She works in Mrs. Gloushire’s sometimes,” Locke said with a shrug.

“Oh yeah?” Benji mumbled absently, still searching through the darkness. Locke wanted to tease him, but it was his turn to blush when another fairy appeared.

“Hello, Galena,” he nearly deadpanned, glad it was so dark.

Galena was tall and willowy, built lean like a swimmer and burnished like bronze. He was dressed in what Locke could only call a poison green loincloth with a braided rope of poison ivy draped across him like a sash and pinning back half of his long, curling brown hair.

“Hello, Locke.” He did a little spin, purple wings beating wildly. “What do you think of my Absinthe costume?”

Locke blinked. “Isn’t that the same costume from last year?”

Galena scoffed. “You’re no fun!” he snarked, but blew Locke a kiss anyway and darted off again. Locke sighed and picked up the pace.

“Are the woods always like this here?” Benji nearly whispered to a chorus of laughter.

Locke shrugged. “No, they’re just excited for the Fest. It’s pretty quiet outside of tourist season.” Benji just hummed softly and got a little closer when something shrieked nearby.

[gyrlversion]

Jill Dandos murder: 20 years on, fresh witness accounts

Presenter Jill Dando (pictured above outside her home in Fulham) was murdered in 1999

The time is a little before midday on Monday, April 26, 1999. Vida Saunders is enjoying tea at a neighbour’s home when another friend comes knocking at the door. The new visitor is in a state of some agitation.

‘I could tell at once from the expression on her face that something wasn’t right,’ Mrs Saunders recalled this week. ‘I didn’t know then just how wrong it would be.’

The friend asks Mrs Saunders to accompany her to a house in the next street, Gowan Avenue. She has just seen something –— something very disturbing — as she walked past the address on her way home from the shops. Now she wants someone else to see it, too.

Nothing ever happened in their suburban enclave in Fulham, West London. At least, nothing very bad.

But that morning would be different. What had just taken place on the front step of 29 Gowan Avenue would make headlines around the world for years to come. The shock reverberates to this day.

‘I don’t think I fully grasped what I was going to see and it seems odd now, with hindsight, but I took my mug of tea with me,’ Mrs Saunders said.

A step by step account of Jill Dando’s last moments as she embarked on a shopping trip in Hammersmith before driving home

Jill Dando (left) and her fiancé Alan Farthing (right). Mr Farthing said he had held Jill’s hand while she was still warm before confirming to doctors that it was the BBC presenter 

In those days, much of the white-painted Victorian frontage of 29 Gowan Avenue was screened from the street by a privet hedge and a small tree. ‘But what I saw as soon as we stepped through the front gate hit me like a physical blow.’

What she saw was the dead body of BBC television presenter Jill Dando, 37, killed only minutes earlier outside her own front door by a single gunshot to the head.

‘Jill’s body was lying at such an odd angle,’ Mrs Saunders recalled. ‘She looked like she had collapsed on the spot. The back of her head was against the front door and her chest was facing towards the pavement.

‘She was in a pool of blood, and I noticed her lips were blue and there were some small drips of blood running from her nose. I think we knew immediately that she was critically injured.

Twenty years on from the death of Jill Dando (pictured above) witnesses have revealed new testimonies 

Police forensic officers at Gowan Avenue, Fulham, where TV presenter Jill Dando was murdered. Ms Dando died from a single gunshot wound to the head

‘She was still clutching a set of keys in one hand, probably her door keys or possibly her car keys. The handles of her handbag were over the other arm and her mobile phone was inside, ringing constantly.

‘Normally, I think, if you saw someone collapsed like that, your instinct would be to reach out and touch them, to try to help them and see if they are all right. But it was clear Jill wasn’t [all right].’

Mrs Saunders paused. ‘That image of Jill lying there. . . I would have visions, snapshots of it in my dreams and even when I was doing my laps when I went swimming. I couldn’t get it out of my head.

‘It has given me many sleepless nights. Of course, time moves on and memories start to fade. But talking about it again now brings it all back so vividly. It was, it is, awful.’

A leaflet which was handed out on May 4 1999 which was given out to passers-by in an effort to jog their memories and uncover new information

Six distinctive marks were found on the cartridge case (pictured above) used by the gunman who killed Jill Dando

Mrs Saunders has not spoken before about her role in the tragedy, except to the police. One can sense in her account a disbelief that she should have been caught up in the case. Because even 20 years later, the murder of Jill Dando remains one of the most shocking crimes of our times.

That Britain’s ‘most celebrated and loved’ TV presenter, ‘the nation’s sweetheart’ and the face of BBC Crimewatch, could be the victim of an execution-style killing, in broad daylight in our capital city, was extraordinary enough.

That the murder was without any clear motive and remains unsolved, despite a huge reward for information and myriad theories, has only added to the fascination.

One man was charged with and convicted of the murder. Barry George, a local loner and fantasist who had already served a prison sentence for attempted rape, was found guilty of the killing at the Old Bailey in July 2001. But his life sentence was later quashed on appeal, and at the end of his 2008 retrial, George was found not guilty.

Police search Gowan Avenue, Fulham, south west London Monday April 26, 1999

By then the trail seemed to have run cold. Or has it?

Today the Daily Mail begins an exclusive three-part reassessment of the Crimewatch presenter’s cold-blooded murder and the hunt for her killer.

Our investigations have taken us to the Balkans and across the British Isles. We are able to draw on previously unavailable police and prosecution documents and other official reports, new witness testimonies — such as that of Mrs Saunders — and interviews with detectives and legal sources involved in the two Scotland Yard investigations into the murder — as well as suspects.

Jill (pictured on holiday in the Seychelles) first got her big break in broadcasting in 1988 when she started presenting the BBC’s hourly national bulletins

We will be able to reveal some key findings of a secret police cold-case review of the murder, carried out only five years ago. We will expose the mistakes investigators made, the red herrings that were pursued — and examine the possibility of a third Jill Dando murder trial taking place, albeit more than two decades after the event.

Our new assessment will also probe the evidence against Barry George, a serial stalker of women, and the High Court’s refusal to grant him ‘miscarriage of justice’ compensation after he was cleared of the killing.

But first let us return to the fateful day itself.

April 26, 1999, dawned cloudy with a forecast of showers. But the life of Jill Wendy Dando seemed to bask in perpetual sunshine.

Born in Weston-Super-Mare in November 1961, she had followed her father and brother into local newspaper journalism. Her on-screen potential was obvious. After stints in regional news broadcasting in the South-West, her big break came in 1988 when she began a job in London presenting the BBC’s hourly national bulletins.

Viewers loved her from the start. She was a friendly celebrity, the ‘girl next door’ who bore more than a passing resemblance to Princess Diana. But unlike the Princess, Jill had a down-to-earth private life that included amateur dramatics, voluntary work in hospitals and churchgoing.

The haunting last images of Jill which were captured on CCTV just 40 minutes before she was killed 

This images shows Jill leaving a store in Hammersmith before getting in her car and driving home 

A devout Baptist from childhood — she was head girl at her school — Jill would become a presenter on Songs Of Praise.

Until moving to Gowan Avenue, she had shared a house in a quiet South-West London neighbourhood with her cousin, Judith.

What you saw on screen was what you met in the flesh. There was no ‘front’ to Jill Dando. And for the British public, she would become a chronicler of their everyday life at its best and worst.

In 1993 she was chosen to host the prime-time travel programme Holiday. Two years later, she took on the same role at Crimewatch, which she would present 42 times before tragedy struck and she became the story rather than the storyteller. In 1997, viewers voted her BBC Personality of the Year.

A set of CCTV images from outside the Kings Mall show Jill walking down the street with her handbag

Another images shows her walking through the shopping centre with her raincoat and bag

She was also spotted outside on the main High Street where she had been out shopping for the day

Her private life was equally serene. In November 1997 she had been introduced by a mutual friend to a consultant gynaecologist called Alan Farthing.

Mr Farthing — who would later oversee the births of Prince William’s children — was separated from his first wife. He and Jill fell ‘very deeply’ in love almost at once.

Within a month they were holidaying together in Australia. That New Year they watched the fireworks over Sydney Harbour Bridge and vowed to be there again for the Millennium.

In January 1999, two months after Mr Farthing’s divorce was finalised, they announced their engagement. Their wedding was set for September 25, 1999.

Police pictured outside the home of Jill in 1999 after a search

The couple spent almost all their time at Mr Farthing’s home in Bedford Close, Chiswick. The Gowan Avenue house was used largely as Jill’s administrative headquarters. She had only stayed there overnight twice in the weeks before the killing.

On Saturday, April 24, she went there to collect post. She noticed her fax machine had run out of ink and decided to return on the Monday to change the cartridge.

That evening, she and Mr Farthing attended a British Legion Poppy Appeal event at the Natural History Museum, which Jill was co-presenting. On Sunday Mr Farthing played golf in Stoke Poges, west of London, with a friend and Jill later joined them for lunch.

That night the couple were at home together in Chiswick. They watched the first episode of Jill’s new show, Antiques Inspectors, for which she had spent several days of the previous week filming in Dublin. The show’s launch was promoted by Jill posing in a black leather jumpsuit next to a vintage Aston Martin on the cover of the Radio Times. It was a little more risqué than her usual image, but fun.

The couple also wrote several letters. One was to Claridge’s hotel in Mayfair, where their wedding reception was due to be held. They discussed the guest list which was written in Jill’s Filofax. The same list would be used by Mr Farthing to organise her funeral.

Alan Farthing (pictured above) at the office for the Jill Dando fund in Piccadilly, London

The next day was to be the start of a two-week period at home for Jill, after months away filming Holiday and Antiques Inspectors.

She had an appointment for the first fitting of her wedding dress and planned to visit a stationer about the invitations.

Mr Farthing had an 8am meeting. He told Jill to sleep in but, typically, his fiancée insisted on getting up and making him breakfast in bed. He then left the house at 7.25, and rain was already falling.

Before they parted, Jill told him: ‘Today I’m going to be a lady who lunches.’ She had a charity luncheon engagement at the Lanesborough Hotel on Hyde Park Corner, but she didn’t make it. He would not see her alive again.

Records on Jill’s mobile phone show she made a number of calls on the day of her death 

The last four hours of Jill’s life can be pieced together through eyewitness accounts, CCTV footage, till receipts and phone records. Only the last moments remain a mystery.

Records for her mobile phone and the landline at her fiance’s home show she made and received a number of calls that morning. All the people she spoke to were traced by police. No one she was in contact with in her last few hours sensed that she was worried. At worst she sounded ‘preoccupied’, but then she had so much to do.

She left Mr Farthing’s home just after 10am in her dark blue BMW convertible. The top was up because of the weather. She stopped to get petrol and milk at a garage on the A4, before parking in Hammersmith, West London, to visit the Kings Mall shopping centre.

While in Hammersmith she visited Ryman the stationers and bought fax paper. She bought other fax material from Dixons and The Link stores. Finally, at 11.01am she walked through the shopping mall towards the exit.

At 11.04am she was driving her car west along King Street. The last sighting of the BMW on CCTV was at 11.10am, when she drove from Winslow Road into Manbre Road, a rat-run route to avoid congestion on the Fulham Palace Road. Extensive analysis of all the CCTV footage that morning shows no evidence that she was being followed.

Sarah Pusey, a Customs and Excise surveillance expert, was also out in her car. Now a 53-year-old mother of two, Ms Pusey told us how she became one of the last people to have a friendly interaction with the TV presenter.

‘I was in a queue of traffic going towards Hammersmith,’ she said. ‘She was in a soft-top car coming the other way. I’m quite nosy. But you know when you’re in traffic and stop next to someone, you look.

‘I remember thinking “that’s Jill Dando” and smiling across at her. She smiled back.’

Ms Pusey, who has not spoken before about the encounter except to the police, was so thrilled she phoned a friend. Mobile phone records show her call was made at 11.13am. By the time she got home, the television news was already reporting Jill’s death.

Jill had told her fiance she would cook dinner for them that evening. Between 11.20am and 11.25am she visited Copes fishmongers on Fulham Road, where she bought two fillets of Dover sole.

According to a member of staff, she seemed jolly but was in a hurry, remarking that her car was parked just around the corner (in Dancer Road).

Jill’s mobile phone records showed she made four calls during her shopping trip that morning. They were to a friend, her agent’s assistant, 192 directory inquiries and the Prince Edward Theatre in the West End. She also received two calls, including one from the theatre’s box office.

A booking clerk spoke to Jill, confirming her tickets to see the hit Abba musical, Mamma Mia!. Jill was said to have sounded ‘excited and bubbly’. She told the booking clerk the tickets were a present for her fiancé, whose birthday was approaching.

That last phone call she took was at 11.23am. From background noises heard by the caller, she was probably still inside the fishmongers. She had less than ten minutes to live.

The next phone call to her mobile was timed at 11.31am. This time she didn’t answer and the call went to voicemail. It is likely that this was the ringing Mrs Saunders heard when she saw Jill lying dead on her doorstep.

Having left Dancer Road, Jill had driven, via Munster Road, the 600 yards to her home in Gowan Avenue. After that, her final moments can only be guessed at from fragments of sound and glimpses of a mystery man, undoubtedly her killer.

Jill’s next-door neighbour, Richard Hughes, said he heard two characteristic bleeps from a BMW car alarm, then footsteps. He told police that after 30 seconds he heard a scream, as if Jill knew the person, as if she was surprised, ‘a startled scream’.

He did not hear a shot. But when he heard a gate clang, he went to the window and saw a man walking away briskly. Another neighbour saw a similar-looking man ‘running’ along the pavement.

Nigel Jenkins, a former session guitarist for Cliff Richard, was at home five doors from Jill’s house, practising chords. Mr Jenkins, who has not spoken before except to the police, told us he heard a ‘bizarre high-pitched noise’.

‘It was the sound of a woman crying out,’ he said. ‘It was like a bark or a yelp — an odd, disturbing noise and I immediately thought: “I don’t like the sound of that.” He heard no shot and did not investigate further until the air ambulance arrived.

Now we return to the testimony of Vida Saunders. It confirms the blunder which, we can reveal, seriously undermined the police investigation before it had even begun.

Mrs Saunders’s friend, who first saw Jill’s body, was a neighbour called Helen Doble.

‘There used to be a GPs’ surgery a few doors up (from Jill’s home) and I ran there while Helen called 999 on her mobile,’ Mrs Saunders recalled. ‘I ran back with the receptionist, who took one look and said she thought Jill was dead and we shouldn’t touch anything.

‘I just stood there staring at my cup of tea, which I had put down on top of the garden wall, and everything went into slow motion. There was suddenly so much activity around us as the first emergency services arrived.’ This was around 11.50am.

‘Shortly after, we were escorted into her neighbours’ house, where we were interviewed for what seemed like hours. I recall an air ambulance landing in the local primary school playground.

‘While we were in the house I would intermittently look out of the window to see what was going on next door. The paramedics seemed to be working hard to try to resuscitate Jill.

‘When I saw them carry her body away on a stretcher, her face seemed pink again and I remember feeling relieved because I thought that they had managed to save her.

‘Later, I realised the change in her face from blue to normal again was because they had pumped oxygen around her body in what turned out to be a futile attempt to save her.’

Jill Dando was probably dead before she hit the ground. Mrs Saunders’s recollection confirms that everyone who saw her before the emergency services arrived realised she was dead. Yet extensive efforts to revive her were made at the scene by paramedics and members of the Helicopter Emergency Medical Service.

As a result, Jill did not reach Charing Cross Hospital — only three minutes away by road — until 12.30pm. The attempted resuscitation continued there for another half an hour before she was declared dead at 1.05pm.

The Mail can reveal that an official police report blames the resuscitation efforts for creating a major, perhaps insurmountable, obstacle to future detective work.

Jill’s clothes were ripped off to perform cardiac massage and the ground about was ‘trampled’ by those trying to save her. The body was not left in situ. Vital clues were bound to have been lost.

The unusual lack of forensic evidence at the crime scene would become a hallmark of the Dando case. And it was not absent because of the cunning of the killer, as we shall see in Part 2.

If the victim had not been ‘the nation’s sweetheart’, would so much effort have been made to rescue someone who was obviously past help?

If so, it was no help to the men tasked with catching her killer.

In 1999, Detective Chief Inspector Hamish Campbell was a senior investigating officer in the Met’s murder squad, based in Kensington, West London.

He had never met Jill Dando, though she had made an appeal on Crimewatch for one of his old murder inquiries and they had attended the same lunch at Scotland Yard, where she had spoken of her fears of a ‘hit’ being carried out on a Crimewatch presenter.

Campbell gave a detailed interview about the investigation to the Mail in the spring of 2001. Today we can draw on previously unpublished extracts from his contemporaneous recollection.

He and his team had been on call for a week but, with no murders to investigate, he had become fidgety. When he was told by a colleague that reports were coming through that a woman had been ‘stabbed’ in Fulham, Campbell decided to take a sergeant and go to see for himself. He did not even wait to hear if the stabbing was fatal.

Bad news travelled fast. As he was leaving the station, he got a call from his boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Brian Edwards. Campbell recalled: ‘He said: “Have you heard anything about this stabbing incident?”

‘I said I had and was on my way. He said: “Well, let me tell you something . . . there’s a suggestion it’s Jill Dando.”

‘I remember thinking: “Jill Dando stabbed? Who on earth would have done that?”

Campbell arrived in Gowan Avenue just as the ambulance carrying Jill’s body departed.

Within five minutes, his officers would discover a fired cartridge case on the doorstep and a single yellow bullet which had passed through the victim’s head, hit her front door and fallen to the ground.

This was no stabbing, then. Nor was it a street robbery gone wrong — Jill’s watch and jewellery had not been taken. They were dealing with something more unusual. Scenes-of-crime officers collected several exhibits including a fob and BMW key, a yellow metal earring, a Russell & Bromley bag and contents, fish in a white plastic bag, and a black leather handbag.

Then the rain began to fall again, adding to the difficulties of the murder squad.

DCI Campbell took shelter from the drizzle in the porch of a neighbouring house, having ordered his men to cover the house front, path and road nearby with plastic to stop further evidence contamination or loss. ‘I remember thinking: “How far could he [the killer) have got now?” ’

Later that day he attended the post-mortem examination. The respected forensic pathologist Dr Iain West found an entry wound behind the top of Jill’s left ear and an exit wound above the right ear. The impression of the muzzle of the murder weapon could be seen around the entry wound.

Dr West concluded that the gun had been pressed firmly against Jill’s head, acting as an effective silencer.

Jill’s right forearm had a small bruise on it, which may have been caused by her killer. However, there did not appear to be any defence injuries, nor was there any sign of a struggle at the scene — prompting police to conclude that she was taken by surprise from behind as she was about to unlock her door.

The bullet had damaged the lower part of the door, suggesting that Jill was crouched or had been pushed down when she was shot.

Her fiancé, Alan Farthing, was also at the hospital. He recalled to the Mail a few weeks after the murder how he had been called by Jill’s agent, Jon Roseman, at around 1pm: ‘The first question he asked was if Jill was with me,’ he said. ‘He had been contacted by the Press asking for his comments on reports that Jill had been attacked in her street. I asked if he’d tried her mobile.’

The terrible truth began to clarify. Mr Farthing was taken to Charing Cross Hospital: ‘They took me down what seemed like the longest corridor in the world to the casualty department and to a side room, where Jill was lying.

‘She had a towel wrapped around her head as if she had just got out of the bath, though it wasn’t covering all her hair. I could see it was Jill’s hair. She was lying in a hospital gown, looking peaceful. I held her hand, which was still warm, and confirmed to the officer it was Jill.’

The consultant in charge of the casualty department came to talk to him. ‘He explained what had been done to try to resuscitate her, but made it plain it had been impossible. She had not been clinically alive on arrival or at any stage during the attempted resuscitation.

‘As I was being taken back down this everlasting corridor, I was thinking: ‘“Why did something like this happen? How could it happen?”’

The same questions were being asked by DCI Campbell. He addressed a meeting of the Dando murder team at 11pm that night in the incident room next to Kensington police station. It did not break up until 2am.

They knew by then they were dealing with a ‘phenomenon’ and that the investigation would be the biggest of their careers. But they already faced serious problems. The crime scene had been ‘chaotic’ and the witness evidence so far was of ‘little quality’.

‘We had to ask whether she had been killed because of who she was or because of where she was,’ DCI Campbell recalled.

Perhaps only one person knew why Jill Dando had died. And that was the man seen fleeing along Gowan Avenue.

To find him, the murder squad would have to weigh a number of motives and in the end examined 1,393 potential suspects.

What made her death especially complex was the Crimewatch connection. Had she been the victim of an underworld hit?

But one of the most popular and persistent theories Operation Oxborough had to investigate was that Jill Dando had been murdered on the orders of the Serbian warlord and underworld boss Željko Ražnatović, aka Arkan.

In April 1999, British warplanes were taking part in Nato bombing of Yugoslavia in order to halt the ethnic cleansing of Albanians by Serbian forces in the province of Kosovo.

Earlier that month, Jill Dando had fronted a BBC1 broadcast appealing for funds to help the refugees. Two days before her death, the headquarters of the Serbian equivalent of the BBC was hit by a Nato missile, killing 17 staff.

On Monday we will meet the Serb ‘hitman’ who was accused of being the killer in Gowan Avenue. Tracked down by the Mail, he has spoken for the first time about his part in the Dando affair. 

The post Jill Dandos murder: 20 years on, fresh witness accounts appeared first on Gyrlversion.

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5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork

It wasn’t his knowledge of programme, his allure, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the notoriety of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he shifted himself into a walk-to meme, terminated with a fandom hectic originating fanfiction, love speculations( i.e. insane scheme presumptions ), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Now are some of the weirdest and wildest slice in the current Trumpian artwork action for “youve got to” absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery. 5 Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel While computers are getting better at all that is induces humans so special( like opening openings ), there is one domain where we’ll always using them to outstrip: logical thinking. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can return you into scrap. In information, a very close we’ve come to causing computers a life of unadulterated resource is through “deep learning” — software that resembled how our neutrons shoot and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like better now humans, we threw computers the knack of originality, merely to squander it on monstrosities like this TAGEND Chris Rodley That’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets. div > This is a penetrating learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s lineage photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her action to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is submitted in accordance with artist Chris Rodley plugging photographs of Donald Trump into a deep learn algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street . ” The outcome is this hellscape of unused faces, googly hearts, and wandering entrusts — plus elements from Sesame Street . Chris Rodley Courtesy of Industrial Light and Horror. It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch fright contending against the confines of our universe TAGEND Though on the plus line-up, Trump’s hair has never glanced more in its element. Eric Cheng/ YouTube Oh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sexuality dream. This nightmare fuel was brought into countries around the world by Eric Cheng, who said he formed it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a penetrating learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The tier of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rantings. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones. 4 All Hail God-Emperor Trump ! div> To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the eventual badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the person who sets the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that panorama of Trump, you have to constantly reject all of actuality . Fortunately, the internet boys help find a direction to readily block out the pesky true by superseding it with hardcore sci-fi devotee story! div > Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his choked arteries reign for infinity. Based on the lore of the favourite tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000 , which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy back of the internet is filled with portraits of Trump as the iconic Ruler of Mankind, immortal lord of the human rights empire wreaking his never-ending fight to the undesirables. Experiences like wit, right? It isn’t. via The Flama via The Flama His armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is suitable, because it starts us want to melt our faces off. div > Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an terrifying deity of fighting as the avatar for a buster who consumed alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military imperative, but that’s where the total disenchantment comes in. via r/ Warhammer4 0k Robokoboto/ Art Abyss Carrying the skulls of his own allies doesn’t seem ominous at all. div > Read Next Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints But the likenes isn’t flattering for either slope. Testifying again that they have the racial revelation of someone who’s been in a lethargy since the ‘6 0s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish monster whose “shattered, crumbling body can no longer reinforce life, ” or that his guideline gave rise to “technological and cultural rights stagnation, and a regression into totalitarianism, belief and religion obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rulers over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating radicals sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated body of their oppressor ruler get. Maybe they did do their research after all. And to employ the cherry on the foolish neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … grey. He was born in center Anatolia( Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have made their white dominance superstar into a space-age Middle Eastern king. Warhammer 40 k Oh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts. 3 The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Affection Dressing Up As Trump You already know about Pepe, the cute comic book frog who became a hate representation. But since Pepe has come extremely mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly attracted copyright infringement. via Will Sommer/ Medium “Racist Frog, Reclining Nude” This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon( although we understand the confusion ). We’re speak about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos . He even comes in numerous charming outfits for supporters to represent dress-up with( dog whistle sold separately ). There’s Papa John Groyper TAGEND via Slate “These chests actually contain Thirsty Howie’s.” div > Hulk Hogan Groyper TAGEND via Will Sommer/ Medium Even a special edition “Are you piqued yet? ” Burka Groyper TAGEND via Slate Don’t try to make sense of it. That channel madness lies. div > But amongst the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow searching less slimy as a lumpy frog TAGEND via Will Sommer/ Medium And the imitation mane on the phony Trump-toad glances little stupid than the real fuzz on the real Trump-golem. So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter swopped up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s unquestionably not because Matt Furie, the inventor of Pepe, has started litigating the lily-white laces off of any popular enough website for copyright violation. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t refrigerate enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for clas — art school, specifically. Donald Trump/ Twitter 2 The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Remembers Trump Is The New Messiah Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest masters. Not because he started anything magnificent or profound or thought-provoking, attention, but because his use are some of the goddamn funniest a few examples of theological right-wing bathos. Jon McNaughton First and foremost, why would you plant a tree three hoofs in front a target where people will be sitting? This lovely depict, entitled You Are Not Forgotten , boasts Herr Conditioner and attests that you can’t draw Trump look warm and charisma even if you choose him yourself. But the real glamour of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s merely a really, genuinely hacky government cartoonist with a better graze stroke tournament. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Now, the topic is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will recognise that Everyman Trump is tower over a working-class kinfolk( whom he’s fastened) as they embed a flower( which he’s fucking kill) in front of a gather of veterans and soldiers( whom he dishonors ), disabled population( whom he doesn’t care about ), black people( whom he doesn’t like ), various cabinet members( whom he’s shelled ), police officers( whom he’s slandered ), and laborers( whom he doesn’t wage ). div > But McNaughton didn’t determine his refer by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a republican beloved by taking drops on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy TAGEND Jon McNaughton Did you acknowledge the 9/11 symbolism? The situation that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office? His foreign policy TAGEND Jon McNaughton To be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course. div > His stance on Obamacare TAGEND Jon McNaughton There goes the plan for National Treasure 3. And here again is that classic, boasting Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican chairpeople are screaming at him TAGEND Jon McNaughton “But I wanted to flora a tree there … “ div > Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these likeness. We’re amazed that the nuclear detonation didn’t feign his golf move, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Physique in napalm and placing it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly ceaseless, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he pressured a soldier to eat a slice of a lesbian uniting cake. Jon McNaughton “It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.” Save us, President Trump! Save us from that tricky black sn- oh, you already have. Jon McNaughton There is an extremely famous pennant advising against this very thing! 1 Barron Trump, Manga Star While Trump himself has a unusually divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t tell me about the Trump brats — Ivanka, Donnie Jr ., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a cheek gather on it. His spawn are nigh-universally humiliated, persistently putting their hoofs in those cavities they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12 -year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Doing entertaining of a kid is not the nicest stuff to do, so two feelings masters have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet son and figuring out the uproar he was required to impression from having the most powerful awful father-god in the whole world — in spectacular manga shape, natch. Yuusuke Hori “At least it’s not a racist amphibian.” div > This very melodramatic segment was announced by master Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It testifies Barron in sparkly bishonen structure with a designation that reads “My loud, vexing dad is president, so the placid unassuming life I missed is totally over.” It was merely signified as a silly mockup blanket, but because it came insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father , i> and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted. Joy Ling Well, except for Trump not to be president, but still. To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF ( created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) envisions Barron, who really really was intended to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon, ” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle bordering a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite method to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help situated events right. Oh, that’s liberty, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t is argued that exercising is a liberal scheme to sap his treasured bodily fluids. Joy Ling “Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.” Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about chilling history that you should definitely subscribe to . i> Art is great for telling some of the tension out, in case that’s a occasion you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil depicts ? b > i> Support Cracked’s journalism with a tour to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you . b > i> For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet . b > i> Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere . b > i> Read more: http :// www.cracked.com/ article_2 5547 _5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork. html http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/05/31/5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork/

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5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork

It wasn’t his knowledge of policy, his charm, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the popularity of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he turned himself into a walking meme, complete with a fandom busy creating fanfiction, fan theories (i.e. insane conspiracy theories), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Here are some of the weirdest and wildest pieces in the current Trumpian art movement for you to absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery.

5

Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel

While computers are getting better at everything that makes humans so special (like opening doors), there is one area where we’ll always have them beat: abstract thought. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can turn you into scrap. In fact, the closest we’ve gotten to giving computers a world of pure imagination is through “deep learning” — software that mimics how our neutrons fire and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like any good humans, we gave computers the gift of creativity, only to squander it on monstrosities like this:

Chris RodleyThat’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets.

This is a deep learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s family photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her way to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is the result of artist Chris Rodley plugging pictures of Donald Trump into a deep learning algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street.” The result is this hellscape of vacant expressions, googly eyes, and wandering hands — plus elements from Sesame Street.

Chris RodleyCourtesy of Industrial Light and Horror.

It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch horror struggling against the confines of our universe:

Though on the plus side, Trump’s hair has never looked more in its element.

Eric Cheng/YouTubeOh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sex dream.

This nightmare fuel was brought into our world by Eric Cheng, who said he created it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a deep learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The level of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rants. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones.

4

All Hail God-Emperor Trump!

To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the ultimate badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the guy who puts the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that view of Trump, you have to constantly ignore all of reality. Fortunately, the internet boys have found a way to easily block out the pesky truth by replacing it with hardcore sci-fi fan fiction!

Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his clogged arteries reign for eternity. Based on the lore of the popular tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000, which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy side of the internet is filled with images of Trump as the iconic Emperor of Mankind, immortal ruler of the human empire bringing his never-ending war to the undesirables. Feels like satire, right? It isn’t.

via The Flama

via The FlamaHis armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is appropriate, since it makes us want to melt our faces off.

Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an awesome god of war as the avatar for a dude who used alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military duty, but that’s where the total disillusion comes in.

via r/Warhammer40k

Robokoboto/Art AbyssCarrying the skulls of his own supporters doesn’t seem ominous at all.

Read Next

Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints

But the comparison isn’t flattering for either side. Showing again that they have the cultural insight of someone who’s been in a coma since the ’60s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish ghoul whose “shattered, decaying body can no longer support life,” or that his rule gave rise to “technological and cultural stagnation, and a regression into tyranny, superstition and religious obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rules over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating fanatics sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated corpse of their despot ruler going. Maybe they did do their research after all.

And to put the cherry on the dumb neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … white. He was born in central Anatolia (Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have turned their white supremacy hero into a space-age Middle Eastern king.

Warhammer 40kOh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts.

3

The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Loves Dressing Up As Trump

You already know about Pepe, the lovable comic book frog who became a hate symbol. But since Pepe has gotten too mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly drawn copyright infringement.

via Will Sommer/Medium“Racist Frog, Reclining Nude”

This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon (although we understand the confusion). We’re talking about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos. He even comes in many adorable outfits for fans to play dress-up with (dog whistle sold separately). There’s Papa John Groyper:

via Slate“These boxes actually contain Hungry Howie’s.”

Hulk Hogan Groyper:

via Will Sommer/Medium

Even a special edition “Are you offended yet?” Burka Groyper:

via SlateDon’t try to make sense of it. That way madness lies.

But among the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow looking less slimy as a lumpy frog:

via Will Sommer/MediumAnd the fake hair on the fake Trump-toad looks less ridiculous than the real hair on the real Trump-golem.

So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter switched up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s definitely not because Matt Furie, the creator of Pepe, has started suing the white laces off of any popular enough site for copyright infringement. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t cool enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for school — art school, specifically.

Donald Trump/Twitter

2

The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Thinks Trump Is The New Messiah

Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest artists. Not because he created anything breathtaking or profound or thought-provoking, mind, but because his works are some of the goddamn funniest examples of religious right-wing bathos.

Jon McNaughtonFirst and foremost, why would you plant a tree three feet in front a place where people will be sitting?

This lovely painting, titled You Are Not Forgotten, features Herr Conditioner and proves that you can’t make Trump look warm and charming even if you draw him yourself. But the real beauty of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s just a really, really hacky political cartoonist with a better brush stroke game. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Here, the theme is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will spot that Everyman Trump is looming over a working-class family (whom he’s screwed) as they plant a flower (which he’s going to kill) in front of a crowd of veterans and soldiers (whom he dishonors), disabled people (whom he doesn’t care about), black people (whom he doesn’t like), various cabinet members (whom he’s fired), police officers (whom he’s insulted), and laborers (whom he doesn’t pay).

But McNaughton didn’t make his name by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a conservative darling by taking dumps on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy:

Jon McNaughtonDid you notice the 9/11 symbolism? The thing that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office?

His foreign policy:

Jon McNaughtonTo be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course.

His stance on Obamacare:

Jon McNaughtonThere goes the plot for National Treasure 3.

And here again is that classic, featuring Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican presidents are yelling at him:

Jon McNaughton“But I wanted to plant a tree there …”

Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these portraits. We’re surprised that the nuclear blast didn’t affect his golf swing, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Constitution in napalm and setting it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly unending, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he forced a soldier to eat a slice of a gay wedding cake.

Jon McNaughton“It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.”

Save us, President Trump! Save us from that treacherous black sn- oh, you already have.

Jon McNaughtonThere is an extremely famous flag advising against this very thing!

1

Barron Trump, Manga Star

While Trump himself has a very divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t be said about the Trump children — Ivanka, Donnie Jr., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a face drawn on it. His spawn are nigh-universally ridiculed, constantly putting their feet in those mouths they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12-year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Making fun of a kid is not the nicest thing to do, so two sensitive artists have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet boy and figuring out the turmoil he must feel from having the most powerful terrible father in the whole world — in fabulous manga form, natch.

Yuusuke Hori“At least it’s not a racist amphibian.”

This very melodramatic piece was posted by artist Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It shows Barron in sparkly bishonen form with a title that reads “My loud, annoying dad is president, so the quiet unassuming life I wanted is completely over.” It was only meant as a silly mockup cover, but because it got insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father, and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted.

Joy LingWell, except for Trump not to be president, but still.

To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF (created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) sees Barron, who really just wants to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon,” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle surrounding a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite way to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help put things right. Oh, that’s right, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t believe that exercise is a liberal plot to sap his precious bodily fluids.

Joy Ling“Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.”

Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about depressing history that you should definitely subscribe to.

Art is great for letting some of the tension out, in case that’s a thing you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil paints?

Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet.

Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_25547_5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork.html

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Garden Update: Late Summer Colors, Crops, Kundalini and Moldavite

I’ve been waiting for the asters to bloom before putting up a new garden update. Finally, they did this weekend! Last Friday brought such chilly temperatures that I actually needed to turn on the cozy fire while writing in my morning journal:

Those cold temps meant one struggling tomato plant gave up the ghost and got replaced by more chard, spinach and golden beet seeds. The lettuce I planted a couple weeks ago is also enjoying the cooler weather — good thing, too, because all my other lettuce has gone to seed!

In addition to those glorious mums, the nasturtiums have filled their beds with gorgeous hints of autumn:

The impatiens look so much happier with some cooler days, as well. You can see them here next to more mature beet greens and some parsley. It’s been a bumper summer for parsley! I’ll need to figure out how best to freeze herbs, because the parsley this year has gone gangbusters.

The lone Autumn Beauty sunflower stowaway from Goshen so wants to bloom, but continues its shyness even today:

When it finally does bloom, I think it will match that purple maple, with hints of red, as well. The asters finally bloomed, so I have high hopes for this sunflower, visible right from the front window, too.

Wildlife continues around here, but I’m happy to report no groundhogs. The day I posted about the cat napping with me on the back porch, the larger groundhog, Kalamazoo Kal, reappeared after 10 days of no show. At first he just ate clover, and I thought, “Oh, should I just let him nibble?” Just at that moment, he glanced up and apparently noticed the backyard hostas for the first time ever. I could literally hear him think, “Hostas!!!! Yum!” and he immediately ran faster than you’d think a groundhog could run, directly towards the hostas, right under our back window.

And so, Kalamazoo Kal got the boot. Or in this case the window. I opened and closed the window, and he dashed away, never to be seen again. The cat came back the next day, and this morning I noticed we have a second, smaller kitty patrol for the days when my black and white friend makes rounds elsewhere. In any case, I’m happy to report that the pepper and coreopsis plants Kal had previously decimated have both recovered enough to fruit and/or flower:

That hummingbird mint above is also true to its name: I saw a hummingbird on Friday, as well as an eagle high above a native plant garden across the street. I also heard an owl land on our roof right above me last week, along with frequent flyovers of crows, hawks and geese. No shortage of wildlife here!

The front yard garden temporarily attracted a young bunny, but Ms. Rabbit got a little too aggressive with my tomatoes. Really?! Just one bite out of five of them? Gross. Soooo, I asked the cat to scent the front garden again, and I’ve not seen anymore damage to my crops. The bunnies are welcome to nibble on dandelions and chew down the grasses that I really need to weed out of the vinca/strawberry/thyme/clover beds. Really, have at it on the weedy ground! I just draw the line at sampling my tomatoes to the point of un-usability. Our counter currently has about 20 green ones pre-harvested just so we get some.

In any case, life continues transitioning from late summer into fall. The air feels crisp, and the backyard pots have sprouts of arugula, chard and lettuce, too. Garlic season approaches, along with daffodils, ornamental alliums, more irises, day lilies and fritillaria. I’m not entirely sure how I’ll get those hundreds of bulbs planted. In addition to the groundhog guidance to grow a smaller garden, a bizarre injury/kundalini expansion/magical discipline has reined in my normally huge garden ambitions and “forced” me to get a jump start on major research for future novels. It’s a neck injury, but it expresses as pain in my higher dimensional heart chakra.

I’m fine, so long as I avoid three particular motions, all of which get used frequently when gardening. Meanwhile, I can work out on exercise equipment in our basement with no problem, walk around the neighborhood with no issues, and do anything related to writing. If I get over-ambitious with the gardening, though, whammo! I get a huge ahem from my neck and chest. My chiropractor friend tells me that it’s a deep tissue injury that normally would be causing a lot more issues than it is. I attribute the minimal impact to the HUGE transition this move has been and continues to be for us.

David and I had set very clear intentions of how our lives would shift. I even made sigils to encode and support those intentions, and the level of guidance and synchronicities during this whole process have been off the charts, including all the shamanic gardening experiences. We are still in process of a great sea change. Anything I do moving in the new direction feels fine, strong, supported. Anytime I make a habitual turn towards something lovely that no longer serves a purpose in our lives, the “injury” stops me in my tracks.

I can feel my higher heart chakra — the area between the usual heart chakra and throat chakra — getting a complete reboot. In fact, the main thing that provides relief is wearing moldavite, a potent stone I also needed to wear for several months straight after a kundalini “injury” to my sacrum back in 2010, when I was also making a huge life change after my divorce but pre-David. I was painting portal doors in Chicago then, and our recent move feels like another huge revelation of how those doors have opened to real life. My biggest shift seems to be from urban farming to kitchen gardening, transitioning all the newly available time and energy towards research and writing.

I’ll share more some other time, as I’m also in the midst of some yet to be determined physical changes, including appearance. In one of those winks from above, my “injury” has forced David and me to switch sides of the bed, which means I literally wake up on the other side of the bed each day. From big to seemingly insignificant but symbolic shifts, we both feel carried along by change that flows steadily, though incrementally on. Whenever we catch our breaths, we realize just how fast the water’s moving and feel ever so grateful for this journey!

Blessed Be … and be the blessing.

  from Thomas Reed https://laurabruno.wordpress.com/2017/08/28/garden-update-late-summer-colors-crops-kundalini-and-moldavite/

[ethelbertpaul444-blog]

5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork

It wasn’t his knowledge of programme, his allure, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the notoriety of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he shifted himself into a walk-to meme, terminated with a fandom hectic originating fanfiction, love speculations( i.e. insane scheme presumptions ), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Now are some of the weirdest and wildest slice in the current Trumpian artwork action for “youve got to” absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery. 5 Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel While computers are getting better at all that is induces humans so special( like opening openings ), there is one domain where we’ll always using them to outstrip: logical thinking. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can return you into scrap. In information, a very close we’ve come to causing computers a life of unadulterated resource is through “deep learning” — software that resembled how our neutrons shoot and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like better now humans, we threw computers the knack of originality, merely to squander it on monstrosities like this TAGEND Chris Rodley That’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets. div > This is a penetrating learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s lineage photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her action to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is submitted in accordance with artist Chris Rodley plugging photographs of Donald Trump into a deep learn algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street . ” The outcome is this hellscape of unused faces, googly hearts, and wandering entrusts — plus elements from Sesame Street . Chris Rodley Courtesy of Industrial Light and Horror. It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch fright contending against the confines of our universe TAGEND Though on the plus line-up, Trump’s hair has never glanced more in its element. Eric Cheng/ YouTube Oh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sexuality dream. This nightmare fuel was brought into countries around the world by Eric Cheng, who said he formed it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a penetrating learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The tier of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rantings. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones. 4 All Hail God-Emperor Trump ! div> To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the eventual badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the person who sets the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that panorama of Trump, you have to constantly reject all of actuality . Fortunately, the internet boys help find a direction to readily block out the pesky true by superseding it with hardcore sci-fi devotee story! div > Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his choked arteries reign for infinity. Based on the lore of the favourite tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000 , which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy back of the internet is filled with portraits of Trump as the iconic Ruler of Mankind, immortal lord of the human rights empire wreaking his never-ending fight to the undesirables. Experiences like wit, right? It isn’t. via The Flama via The Flama His armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is suitable, because it starts us want to melt our faces off. div > Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an terrifying deity of fighting as the avatar for a buster who consumed alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military imperative, but that’s where the total disenchantment comes in. via r/ Warhammer4 0k Robokoboto/ Art Abyss Carrying the skulls of his own allies doesn’t seem ominous at all. div > Read Next Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints But the likenes isn’t flattering for either slope. Testifying again that they have the racial revelation of someone who’s been in a lethargy since the ‘6 0s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish monster whose “shattered, crumbling body can no longer reinforce life, ” or that his guideline gave rise to “technological and cultural rights stagnation, and a regression into totalitarianism, belief and religion obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rulers over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating radicals sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated body of their oppressor ruler get. Maybe they did do their research after all. And to employ the cherry on the foolish neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … grey. He was born in center Anatolia( Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have made their white dominance superstar into a space-age Middle Eastern king. Warhammer 40 k Oh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts. 3 The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Affection Dressing Up As Trump You already know about Pepe, the cute comic book frog who became a hate representation. But since Pepe has come extremely mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly attracted copyright infringement. via Will Sommer/ Medium “Racist Frog, Reclining Nude” This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon( although we understand the confusion ). We’re speak about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos . He even comes in numerous charming outfits for supporters to represent dress-up with( dog whistle sold separately ). There’s Papa John Groyper TAGEND via Slate “These chests actually contain Thirsty Howie’s.” div > Hulk Hogan Groyper TAGEND via Will Sommer/ Medium Even a special edition “Are you piqued yet? ” Burka Groyper TAGEND via Slate Don’t try to make sense of it. That channel madness lies. div > But amongst the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow searching less slimy as a lumpy frog TAGEND via Will Sommer/ Medium And the imitation mane on the phony Trump-toad glances little stupid than the real fuzz on the real Trump-golem. So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter swopped up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s unquestionably not because Matt Furie, the inventor of Pepe, has started litigating the lily-white laces off of any popular enough website for copyright violation. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t refrigerate enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for clas — art school, specifically. Donald Trump/ Twitter 2 The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Remembers Trump Is The New Messiah Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest masters. Not because he started anything magnificent or profound or thought-provoking, attention, but because his use are some of the goddamn funniest a few examples of theological right-wing bathos. Jon McNaughton First and foremost, why would you plant a tree three hoofs in front a target where people will be sitting? This lovely depict, entitled You Are Not Forgotten , boasts Herr Conditioner and attests that you can’t draw Trump look warm and charisma even if you choose him yourself. But the real glamour of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s merely a really, genuinely hacky government cartoonist with a better graze stroke tournament. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Now, the topic is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will recognise that Everyman Trump is tower over a working-class kinfolk( whom he’s fastened) as they embed a flower( which he’s fucking kill) in front of a gather of veterans and soldiers( whom he dishonors ), disabled population( whom he doesn’t care about ), black people( whom he doesn’t like ), various cabinet members( whom he’s shelled ), police officers( whom he’s slandered ), and laborers( whom he doesn’t wage ). div > But McNaughton didn’t determine his refer by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a republican beloved by taking drops on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy TAGEND Jon McNaughton Did you acknowledge the 9/11 symbolism? The situation that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office? His foreign policy TAGEND Jon McNaughton To be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course. div > His stance on Obamacare TAGEND Jon McNaughton There goes the plan for National Treasure 3. And here again is that classic, boasting Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican chairpeople are screaming at him TAGEND Jon McNaughton “But I wanted to flora a tree there … “ div > Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these likeness. We’re amazed that the nuclear detonation didn’t feign his golf move, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Physique in napalm and placing it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly ceaseless, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he pressured a soldier to eat a slice of a lesbian uniting cake. Jon McNaughton “It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.” Save us, President Trump! Save us from that tricky black sn- oh, you already have. Jon McNaughton There is an extremely famous pennant advising against this very thing! 1 Barron Trump, Manga Star While Trump himself has a unusually divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t tell me about the Trump brats — Ivanka, Donnie Jr ., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a cheek gather on it. His spawn are nigh-universally humiliated, persistently putting their hoofs in those cavities they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12 -year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Doing entertaining of a kid is not the nicest stuff to do, so two feelings masters have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet son and figuring out the uproar he was required to impression from having the most powerful awful father-god in the whole world — in spectacular manga shape, natch. Yuusuke Hori “At least it’s not a racist amphibian.” div > This very melodramatic segment was announced by master Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It testifies Barron in sparkly bishonen structure with a designation that reads “My loud, vexing dad is president, so the placid unassuming life I missed is totally over.” It was merely signified as a silly mockup blanket, but because it came insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father , i> and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted. Joy Ling Well, except for Trump not to be president, but still. To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF ( created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) envisions Barron, who really really was intended to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon, ” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle bordering a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite method to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help situated events right. Oh, that’s liberty, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t is argued that exercising is a liberal scheme to sap his treasured bodily fluids. Joy Ling “Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.” Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about chilling history that you should definitely subscribe to . i> Art is great for telling some of the tension out, in case that’s a occasion you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil depicts ? b > i> Support Cracked’s journalism with a tour to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you . b > i> For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet . b > i> Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere . b > i> Read more: http :// www.cracked.com/ article_2 5547 _5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork. html http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/05/31/5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork/

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5 WTF Ways Trump Has Been Immortalized As Artwork

It wasn’t his knowledge of policy, his charm, or anything remotely leadership-like that led to the popularity of Donald Trump. If anything, it was the ease and willingness with which he turned himself into a walking meme, complete with a fandom busy creating fanfiction, fan theories (i.e. insane conspiracy theories), and, of course, tons of bad fan art. Here are some of the weirdest and wildest pieces in the current Trumpian art movement for you to absorb before they find their way into the National Portrait Gallery.

5

Deep Dream Trump Is Pure Nightmare Fuel

While computers are getting better at everything that makes humans so special (like opening doors), there is one area where we’ll always have them beat: abstract thought. After all, it’s hard to have a sense of whimsy when a misplaced semicolon can turn you into scrap. In fact, the closest we’ve gotten to giving computers a world of pure imagination is through “deep learning” — software that mimics how our neutrons fire and is perhaps the future of artificial intelligence. And like any good humans, we gave computers the gift of creativity, only to squander it on monstrosities like this:

Chris RodleyThat’s why you don’t share a teleporter with Muppets.

This is a deep learning interpretation of one of Donald Trump’s family photos. And if you’re wondering why Melania looks like Miss Piggy on her way to her third divorce, that’s on purpose. This art is the result of artist Chris Rodley plugging pictures of Donald Trump into a deep learning algorithm which was also “looking for images from Sesame Street.” The result is this hellscape of vacant expressions, googly eyes, and wandering hands — plus elements from Sesame Street.

Chris RodleyCourtesy of Industrial Light and Horror.

It could be a lot worse, though. You could be looking at a video of Trump transformed into an awakened eldritch horror struggling against the confines of our universe:

Though on the plus side, Trump’s hair has never looked more in its element.

Eric Cheng/YouTubeOh, like you’ve never had a wookiee sex dream.

This nightmare fuel was brought into our world by Eric Cheng, who said he created it by plugging a video of a Trump speech into a deep learning algorithm that was simultaneously thinking about Cthulhu. The level of Cthulhu influence was governed by the volume at which Trump was speaking. We’re lucky that it was one of his quieter rants. If it had been about minorities or women, that video might have accidentally opened a wormhole into the domain of the Elder Ones.

4

All Hail God-Emperor Trump!

To a lot of internet manbabies, Trump is the ultimate badass. He’s an ass-kicker and a risk-taker, a street fighter and shot-caller, the guy who puts the Big Mac into Mack Daddy. Of course, in order to maintain that view of Trump, you have to constantly ignore all of reality. Fortunately, the internet boys have found a way to easily block out the pesky truth by replacing it with hardcore sci-fi fan fiction!

Meet God-Emperor Trump, may his clogged arteries reign for eternity. Based on the lore of the popular tabletop gaming universe Warhammer 40,000, which is set in a ludicrously dystopian future, the cruddy side of the internet is filled with images of Trump as the iconic Emperor of Mankind, immortal ruler of the human empire bringing his never-ending war to the undesirables. Feels like satire, right? It isn’t.

via The Flama

via The FlamaHis armor appears to be made from the Ark of the Covenant, which is appropriate, since it makes us want to melt our faces off.

Sure, it’s pretty weird to pick an awesome god of war as the avatar for a dude who used alleged bone spurs as an excuse to get out of military duty, but that’s where the total disillusion comes in.

via r/Warhammer40k

Robokoboto/Art AbyssCarrying the skulls of his own supporters doesn’t seem ominous at all.

Read Next

Teach Kids The Alphabet With These Medieval Death Prints

But the comparison isn’t flattering for either side. Showing again that they have the cultural insight of someone who’s been in a coma since the ’60s, Trump fanboys seem to not realize that this Emperor of Mankind is nothing more than a freakish ghoul whose “shattered, decaying body can no longer support life,” or that his rule gave rise to “technological and cultural stagnation, and a regression into tyranny, superstition and religious obfuscation and intolerance.” So God-Emperor Trump is based on some creep who rules over a dystopia in which mindless, alien-hating fanatics sacrifice thousands daily to keep the bloated corpse of their despot ruler going. Maybe they did do their research after all.

And to put the cherry on the dumb neo-Nazi cake, the God-Emperor isn’t, uhm … white. He was born in central Anatolia (Turkey) in 8,000 BC. Meaning the web fascists have turned their white supremacy hero into a space-age Middle Eastern king.

Warhammer 40kOh yeah, this guy is totes going to preserve the white race, you dolts.

3

The New “Alt-Right” Cartoon Mascot Loves Dressing Up As Trump

You already know about Pepe, the lovable comic book frog who became a hate symbol. But since Pepe has gotten too mainstream, hardcore “alt-right” dudes have created a perfect mascot for the new Trump age: a poorly drawn copyright infringement.

via Will Sommer/Medium“Racist Frog, Reclining Nude”

This corpulent little shit-grinner is Groyper. No, that’s not a Trump-inspired new Pokemon (although we understand the confusion). We’re talking about Groyper the Frog, the MS Paint cartoon mascot for hardcore politicos. He even comes in many adorable outfits for fans to play dress-up with (dog whistle sold separately). There’s Papa John Groyper:

via Slate“These boxes actually contain Hungry Howie’s.”

Hulk Hogan Groyper:

via Will Sommer/Medium

Even a special edition “Are you offended yet?” Burka Groyper:

via SlateDon’t try to make sense of it. That way madness lies.

But among the favorite flavors of Groyper stands Trump Groyper, somehow looking less slimy as a lumpy frog:

via Will Sommer/MediumAnd the fake hair on the fake Trump-toad looks less ridiculous than the real hair on the real Trump-golem.

So if you’re wondering why all the worst accounts on Twitter switched up their avatars to this, that’s why. It’s definitely not because Matt Furie, the creator of Pepe, has started suing the white laces off of any popular enough site for copyright infringement. No, it’s because Pepe isn’t cool enough anymore. Not like Groyper, who’s too cool for school — art school, specifically.

Donald Trump/Twitter

2

The Anti-Obama Oil Painter Now Thinks Trump Is The New Messiah

Jon McNaughton is possibly one of history’s greatest artists. Not because he created anything breathtaking or profound or thought-provoking, mind, but because his works are some of the goddamn funniest examples of religious right-wing bathos.

Jon McNaughtonFirst and foremost, why would you plant a tree three feet in front a place where people will be sitting?

This lovely painting, titled You Are Not Forgotten, features Herr Conditioner and proves that you can’t make Trump look warm and charming even if you draw him yourself. But the real beauty of McNaughton’s art lies in the fact that he’s just a really, really hacky political cartoonist with a better brush stroke game. He often boasts about the number of “symbols” he manages to stuff into a single canvas. Here, the theme is unity. That’s why a not-that-keen eye can will spot that Everyman Trump is looming over a working-class family (whom he’s screwed) as they plant a flower (which he’s going to kill) in front of a crowd of veterans and soldiers (whom he dishonors), disabled people (whom he doesn’t care about), black people (whom he doesn’t like), various cabinet members (whom he’s fired), police officers (whom he’s insulted), and laborers (whom he doesn’t pay).

But McNaughton didn’t make his name by trimming half a dozen inches off of Trump’s waist. He became a conservative darling by taking dumps on President Obama for a solid eight years. Here’s his interpretation of Obama’s domestic policy:

Jon McNaughtonDid you notice the 9/11 symbolism? The thing that happened seven years before Obama was president, when a Republican was in office?

His foreign policy:

Jon McNaughtonTo be fair, Los Alamos does have a really nice golf course.

His stance on Obamacare:

Jon McNaughtonThere goes the plot for National Treasure 3.

And here again is that classic, featuring Obama trampling over the rights of the very same working man who Trump will later save while all the good Republican presidents are yelling at him:

Jon McNaughton“But I wanted to plant a tree there …”

Man, Obama really seems like a dick in these portraits. We’re surprised that the nuclear blast didn’t affect his golf swing, or that he escaped unharmed after dipping the Constitution in napalm and setting it alight in his hand, although that’s to be expected when you’re Literally Satan. His abilities are truly unending, as is his cruelty … as demonstrated by that time he forced a soldier to eat a slice of a gay wedding cake.

Jon McNaughton“It’s not even ice cream cake. Thanks, Obama.”

Save us, President Trump! Save us from that treacherous black sn- oh, you already have.

Jon McNaughtonThere is an extremely famous flag advising against this very thing!

1

Barron Trump, Manga Star

While Trump himself has a very divisive sort of popularity, the same can’t be said about the Trump children — Ivanka, Donnie Jr., and the one who looks like a hardboiled egg with a face drawn on it. His spawn are nigh-universally ridiculed, constantly putting their feet in those mouths they can’t ever seem to fully close. But one Trump kid is exempt from this ridicule: Barron, the unassuming, sweet-looking 12-year-old who actually has to live in the White House with his mom and dad. Making fun of a kid is not the nicest thing to do, so two sensitive artists have gone the other direction, trying to delve into the mind of this quiet boy and figuring out the turmoil he must feel from having the most powerful terrible father in the whole world — in fabulous manga form, natch.

Yuusuke Hori“At least it’s not a racist amphibian.”

This very melodramatic piece was posted by artist Yuusuke Hori right after Trump’s inauguration. It shows Barron in sparkly bishonen form with a title that reads “My loud, annoying dad is president, so the quiet unassuming life I wanted is completely over.” It was only meant as a silly mockup cover, but because it got insanely popular, we eventually got the for-realsies The Adventures Of Barron And His Loud-Mouthed President Father, and it’s everything we’ve ever wanted.

Joy LingWell, except for Trump not to be president, but still.

To all the non-otaku out there, TAOBAHLMPF (created by Brooklyn-based artist Joy Ling) sees Barron, who really just wants to “watch Netflix and play Pokemon,” teaming with Sasha and Malia Obama to solve the puzzle surrounding a “mysterious anomaly” that appeared after his father took office — which is not a polite way to refer to Kellyanne Conway. We don’t want to give away too many spoilers, but one of the central conflicts revolves around Barron trying to persuade his father to help put things right. Oh, that’s right, Donald Jerwillickers Trump makes an appearance, or at least the DJT from the universe where he doesn’t believe that exercise is a liberal plot to sap his precious bodily fluids.

Joy Ling“Please don’t tell me which flui-“ “Semen.”

Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter about depressing history that you should definitely subscribe to.

Art is great for letting some of the tension out, in case that’s a thing you need to do in this day and age, so maybe pick up some Bob Ross oil paints?

Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 8 Hilariously Offensive Artworks Featuring Famous Presidents and 5 Unsettling Sub-Genres Of Fan Art Lurking On The Internet.

Follow us on Facebook, and we’ll follow you everywhere.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/article_25547_5-wtf-ways-trump-has-been-immortalized-as-artwork.html

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