Commercial Art « POETICKS-

Archive for the ‘Commercial Art’ Category

Directly below is the cover featuring the design Craig Kaplan and I came up with for the latest issue of The Journal of Mathematics and the Arts. Beneath it, from the bottom up, are my initial rough draft for the cover, then two drafts of mine (from several) combining ideas of Craig’s and mine. The poem is my “Mathemaku No. 10.”

From down&dirty to fairly high-grade commercial art, it seems to me. Two equal but different expressions of aesthetic taste. If we had gone with my initial version, I would have wanted to boost its resolution and possibly made the heart-sequence more like the sequence in the one just above it–i.e., made the upward movement less predictable. I hadn’t realized when I made my first version that the lay-out of the cover was rigidly the way it is in the top image: image in square to top right, name of publication, image in square to bottom right. I’d have a single image take up the entire page with the publication data on top of it around two thirds of the way up. Different strolks for different fokes. Also a good demonstration of why I’ve never made any money from what I’ve done in the arts.
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Posted in Autobiographica, Commercial Art, Miscellaneous Thoughts, Visimagery | No Comments »

Entry 1160 — Commercial Art Specimen

Tuesday, July 23rd, 2013

I’ve always said that many commercial artists do work as good as “real artists.” The difference is simply their central goal, which is to persuade someone to buy something, however much they may at times also want to create a thing of beauty. So they are not making art, they are making advocature. I find the label below a wonderful specimen of advocary visiotextual art, but not of advocary visual poetry. A main reason I’m posting is to again make a point about what visual poetry is and is not. This is just an ornamented word. Excuse please, I should say that this is a beautifully-ornamented word, and one should be grateful for it, but that a visual poem, even an advocary visual poem, will do much more. Now if my creative brain hadn’t blown all sixteen of its fuses last year, with no new shipments of fuses due from Uranus until my next life, I’d show you what the melloyello logo would look like as a genuine advocary visual poem. That not being possible, I’ll just say it’d do something to make its visual appearance a metaphor for its text.

On the other hand, the lemon and orange slices seem pretty close to o’s–citrically mellowing beyond the o’s ending the text’s two words . . . Note: I think I couldda made a lot of money in advertising.

LLbean.com Store

Posted in Commercial Art | 2 Comments »

Entry 443 — I’m Still Here « POETICKS

Entry 443 — I’m Still Here

Just a little news bulletin to let people know I’m still around.

1. I’m scheduled for hip replacement surgery 1 June.

2. I just popped off at the Poetry magazine site against a review of recent books by Marjorie Perloff and Reginald Shepherd, Unorginal Genius and A Martian Muse, ” which–according to Robert Archabeau, Poetry’s fatuous reviewer– “have wonderful moments, and at their best each shows us a remarkable critical mind at work.” I aired my usual gripe, that the Establishment is ignoring my kind of poetry. I seem to have a need to do this every month or so–to become at least a smudge on the Surface of American Culture. I can’t simply ignore it.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 19th, 2011 at 12:00 AM and is filed under Autobiographica. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Entry 546 — I’m Back Home, and in Good shape « POETICKS

Entry 546 — I’m Back Home, and in Good shape

I walked to the hospital (about ) 2 miles from my home, getting there at a little after 5 AM. My appointment was for 5:30. My friend Linda got me home at a little after 10 AM, even though we made two small trips, one to the drugstore and one to Staples so I could buy cover stock for Marton’s book. My surgeon had told me he’d talk to me after the procedure, but he didn’t. I’m sure things went okay, though; otherwise, I’d not have been let go. One disappointment–I have to wear a catheter for six days rather than the two I’d been told I’d have to.

I’m pretty tired, this time for the legitimate reason that I only slept a half-an-hour last night. I didn’t feel particularly edgy, for I wasn’t anxious about the procedure. Maybe my body was. Stress affects it much more than it affects the part of my brain the brain calls “me.” As is often the case when I have insomnia, I had quite a few ideas. One of them was a refinement of my long-held belief that it’s unfair to hold an innovative poem to the same standards of clarity a conventional poem is held to since the former is likely only clear because one reading it has been educated in the reading of such poems since nursery school or earlier, and has (probably) not been exposed to anything like what he needs to have been to find an innovative poem clear.

The refinement is a new term: “the clarity-to-exposure ratio.” Or how clear a poem is to an engagent on a scale of, say, one to a hundred, and how much exposure he’s had to poems of its kind on the same scale. Hence, a poem by Frost may have a clarity rating of 95, but an exposure rating of 95, as well, because of what school teachers have taught him about formal verse, and his memory of nursery rhymes, and much else. One of my mathemaku may have a clarity rating of 8 (because it will have understandable words and recognizable mathematical symbols and, perhaps, recognizable graphic images). It may have the same c-to-e ratio as the Frost poem, though, if its exposure rating is only 8,which it could well be because no such poems will have been taught to its engagent.

Offhand, I would say a poem approaches ideal clarity to the degree its clarity-to-exposure ratio approaches point nine. After its exposure rating has reached 100. I make point nine (or some such figure) the ideal because perfect clarity is boring. That I consider a fact of aesthetics, not an opinion.

Western Union

This entry was posted on Friday, October 28th, 2011 at 12:00 AM and is filed under Aesthetics, Autobiographica, Poetics. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Entry 515 — The Null Zone: Still Dominant « POETICKS

Entry 515 — The Null Zone: Still Dominant

I actually got two-and-a-half brief reviews done yesterday. None even started yet today although it’s a little after three in the afternoon. Forty minutes ago I took two APCs, so maybe I’ll get going now.

I have nothing much to write about today, just some old thoughts about world cultural peaks. I think about them fairly often, mostly when comparing my country against others, with the low evaluation of it of so many liberals in mind. While I do believe America is the greatest nation in the world right now, and has been for over a century, I feel it has only achieved one cultural peak, the period from around 1910 until 1960 in poetry. Well, maybe also a technological one I’d call the Edison Era. Getting back to the poetic period, it required many more people than England from around 1810 until 1840 had when England had its one great period of poetry. (Elizabethan England achieved maximal greatness in the drama, not poetry, in my view.) I don’t know of any other nations’ comparable poetic peaks but I’m not dumb enough to imagine that isn’t almost entirely due to my ignorance.

Actually, I don’t really think of the recent peaking of anglophonic poetry in America as belonging culturally to America, but to the British Empire. In any event, I always wonder in conjunction with my admiration of that period, how my period compares. I don’t think anything much was going on in anglophonic poetry between 1960 and 1990, although the next period of superior poetry was shaping up then. From 1990 til now, anglophonic poetry has been sizzling, I’m sure of that. It’s been at least an orderof magnitude better than the poetry of the preceding 30 years. Whether it has gotten or will get to the level or the early twentieth centure period, I can’t say. Don’t know enough about it, and am too close to it to be as objective as I should be. Certainly its poetry has been by far the most varied, the most valuably varied, poetry ever. If it’s a lesser period, it will be because most of its best poets have been too esoteric. It lacks its Yeatses and Frosts, although I hold Richard Wilbur in high esteem. And the sonnets of Michael Snider. In fact, there are probably many excellent “Frosts” out there I’ve been too busy with my own poetry to know much about. And many of our most unconventional poets have composed first-rate, accessible (or reasonably accessible) conventional poetry, too. The first name that occurs to me is Sheila Murphy. Karl Kempton and Geof Huth, as well. Who knows, too, how “accessible” posterity will find the now seemingly difficult work of others. I must remember to live to the age of 130 to find out.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 27th, 2011 at 12:00 AM and is filed under Autobiographica, Miscellaneous Literary Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia « POETICKS

Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia

Bambi’s mother told him that if he couldn’t say something nice, he should say nothing, at all. That was sixty or seventy years ago. The thought is outdated now. The American ruling class, and their publicity department (the American media), would say, “If you can’t think something nice, turn yourself in (to a reputable professional, of course) for counseling. This is stupid in too many different ways for me to unfume enough to deal with it without revealing myself as every possible kind of black-hearted sub-human. But I’ll point out one major way it is stupid, anyway: that once we can only tell others that they are wonderful (for fear of ostracism or legal punishment), there are bound to be people with unusually big hearts who will start telling others they are super-wonderful, and before you know it, the quickest-witted hyper-offendables will take action against those who have called them wonderful–i.e., inferior to the super-wonderful.

These kinds of thoughts I should just reserve for my private diary, but I gotta put something here daily! I also feel obligated to other members of posterity here already to show them they aren’t alone. Yes, weird that I would think of myself acting as a member of future generations by expressing views of of generations dead when I was born.

I should shut up but I have so little instinct for self-preservation, I can’t. So I have to tell you I consider euphemophilia a synonym for what I just found out is “misandry,” hatred of men. Interesting that you never hear of anyone accused of that. “Misandry” is crummy sounding so I’m going to use “mistestostergy” instead. And now I really must yank myself outta here . . . except, alas, to make one more archaically self-deluded remark: I do not consider myself even close to being a misogynist. But, remember, I don’t consider myself close to being homophobic, either, although I don’t think homosexuals should call their variety of marriage “marriage.” And I refuse to call them “gays.”

I really gotta yank myself outta here. Will it help if I say I don’t respect our president’s intelligence, but don’t respect it less than I respect the previous president’s?

No one’s ever said I had a death-wish, but maybe I have. (Some have suggested I seem to seek failure, which may be true although, frankly, I don’t believe it is.) Okay–I go!

Note: I did go. I’m back now only to say I just named “sexism” as on of the categories this entry belongs in. I’m curious if that will draw visitors. Why I would want it to would be a question for my shrink if I weren’t too benighted to believe in shrinks.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 17th, 2014 at 12:00 AM and is filed under Autobiographica, Grumman coinage, Miscellaneous Thoughts, Sexism. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Andrew Joron « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Andrew Joron’ Category

Entry 385 — My Most-Used Coinage

Monday, February 21st, 2011

On 2/21/2011 3:21 AM, Jake Berry wrote:

Bob,    Hope this finds you well. I'm working on an essay and I'd like to  use your term 'otherstream', but I want to quote your definition  of the word directly. I haven't been able to find it on the internet  and I have no idea where it might be among all my books and papers.  So how would you define it?    Best,  Jake

Terrific hearing from you, Jake–although it makes me feel guilty by reminding me of what a horrible correspondent I’ve been for going on ten years or more. So many people I haven’t kept in touch with but should have! Although I do keep up with you on the Internet.

Ah, the old days when I was one of the Kings of the . . . Otherstream because I owned my own Xerox! I’ve had some ungood years since then. 2010 was possibly the worst year I’ve had in thirty years. But this year, so far, is going pretty well, although right now I’m in my null zone again.

Maybe not–your e.mail has me at least partway out of it. Great to know someone still likes my coinage, and it was fun doing my own search for it on the Internet. I found an article about Dale Jensen and his wife, Judy Wells, in which the term was used, followed by a comment by Jack Foley (good ol’ Jack) declaring that Andrew Joron had not coined “otherstream,” Bob Grumman had!

Somewhere else some guy took credit for coining it in 1996. My guess is that I first used it around 1985, so it has just has its 25th anniversary. If I, indeed, was the first to use it. Who knows if I did or not. I don’t care. I mean, it’d be nice to know for sure some word that more than a few people use was my word, but I’m really not that big about getting credit. I want money, not credit!

Oh, I also found out there are various businesses calling themselves “otherstream” this or that, including, I think, a broadcast network.

So, a definition. I’ve defined it in different although similar ways. I think I would say that “otherstream” is my adjective for kinds works of art the great majority of arts academics, well-known critics, commercial publishers and commercial magazine editors know little more than the names of, if that. A brief definition: art that’s now taught in college classes. For me, it means approximately but only approximately the opposite of “mainstream.” What it’s the exact opposite of is “knownstream.” That’s because some art is knownstream, like certain kinds of very formal verse–the sestina, say, is well-known to most literature professors but is not what you’d call a kind of mainstream poetry. I don’t think cowboy poems are considered mainstream, either, or though fairly popular. I used it mainly for visual poetry, sound poetry and language poetry when I began using it, but some language poetry has become mainstream.

Hope this helps. Thanks for wanting to use the word, which I think is a useful one. And for inspiring me to write what I have here, which I can now use for today’s entry in my blog! Make sure to link me to your essay when it’s online, or send it to me if it’s printed–with the hundred dollar royalty fee I charge for the use of any of my coinages. (You can use “knownstream,” also mine, for half-price.)

all best, Bob

Posted in Andrew Joron, Artists Mentioned in Entries, Autobiographica, Dale Jensen, Grumman coinage, Jack Foley, Jake Berry, Judy Wells | No Comments »

Sexism « POETICKS

Archive for the ‘Sexism’ Category

Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia

Saturday, May 17th, 2014

I really gotta yank myself outta here. Will it help if I say I don’t respect our president’s intelligence, but don’t respect it less than I respect the previous president’s?

No one’s ever said I had a death-wish, but maybe I have. (Some have suggested I seem to seek failure, which may be true although, frankly, I don’t believe it is.) Okay–I go!

Posted in Autobiographica, Grumman coinage, Miscellaneous Thoughts, Sexism | No Comments »

Entry 478 — Another Weak Hello « POETICKS

Entry 478 — Another Weak Hello

I’ve been bumbling along making very slow progress with my hip. I’ve actually sort of run a few times while playing senior tennis. I’m riding my bike again, too, although I’m not supposed to, the experts believing I might fall and mess up my hip. No chance. Psychologically, I’m still screwed up: I’m sleeping okay after three bad nights in a row, but continue to want to take a nap almost all the time. (And rarely am able to fall asleep once I’ve lain down.)

I’m in a moderately pleased state of mind right now, though, because I’ve gotten 18 framed visiotextual works of mine ready for display at the local library. I’ve decided nine are world-class, and all but three of the others not too far from world-class. None of the others is poor, just not all that great.

It’s always a relief to find one still likes what one did more than a few years ago. I’m not that keen on some of my apprentice-pieces, but tend to like almost everything I’ve done over the past thirty years–and considered keepers when they were done.

I must have twenty or thirty fairly completely sketches of poems I thought would be terrific when I sketched them but never followed through on. Every once in a while I look through them. Haven’t found one yet I think worth doing, or even stealing a piece from for a new work.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 6th, 2011 at 12:00 AM and is filed under Autobiographica. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

POETICKS

Entry 465 — A Long Walk

July 8th, 2011

I walked four miles today. My physical therapist and my surgeon are agreed that I shouldn’t walk more than half a mile. But I had somewhere to go, and have this weird self-belief in my ability to walk. I don’t have the same self-belief in any other physical ability so haven’t done and won’t do anything else I’m not supposed to. I’m not sure what my point is–maybe something about aconceptual knowledge versus conceptual expertise.

But also to explain why I’m too tired to say more, today, about William Logan in the latest issue of New Criterion except that he has finally actually written about a poet I consider avant-garde (albeit, barely), Rae Armantrout. I guess he had to since she’s a Pulitzer Prize winner and has been a member of the Academy of American Poets and otherwise credentialed for quite a while. He pans her, of course. Ignorantly, of course. Okay, semi-ignorantly. The main thing is that he discusses her–for over a page. Bringing the New Criterion briefly up to 1980.

He also discusses Wilbur’s latest, but I only read the part about Armantrout. Tired. I’ll read the rest of Logan’s commentary, though–I read every word of every issue of the New Criterion. I figure it gives me a good anchor in 1950 to sail into newer things from. I truly wish there were a magazine around as good about 2000 as it is about 1950 (and cultural figures repeating it in 2011).

Later Note: The book was Broken English, by Heather McHugh. It showed up. I had left it in the car of the friends who’d driven me home from the healthcare center with a lot of other stuff in a large shopping bag. I guess I’m glad I found it. I’m very glad of the stuff that turned up with it, which included some magazines and two other books that it would have driven me beserk to have looked for and not found. I wasn’t totally stupid, by the way: I called Linda, my ride home, and asked her to check her car.

Posted in Autobiographica, Miscellaneous Literary Thoughts | 1 Comment »

Entry 464 — A Follow-Up Visit to the Surgeon

July 6th, 2011

I saw my surgeon yesterday. He was very pleased with my progress. But he said it’d be three or four more months before I would be a non-gimp. He had told me before the operation that it’d take two to five months for me to reach that point, so I felt I’d make it in two with hard work, if the operation went well. I’ve worked hard and the operation went well but am not considered likely to be able to do more than I’m doing now, which is walk fast in a straight line, and take care of myself in my home. Sure doesn’t give me much motivation to continue going all-out on my exercise program.

Meanwhile, my old lethargy is still with me. I’ve done a little work on my Shakespeare book since getting home, but not much else. I’m hoping I’m just suffering from the stress any change in one’s circumstances tends to cause, even a good change like getting home from a care facility.

Posted in Autobiographica | No Comments »

Entry 463 — I’m Home

July 2nd, 2011

Just a note to say I got back from the rehab center yesterday, and after putting the stuff I brought home with me away, walked a mile–at a blazing 3 miles and hour. But I’m not allowed to go much faster. Running will be forbidden for another week. Not allowed to twist, either. I’m supposedly ahead of schedule. I feel good about my progress. I feel good about most everything, in fact.

Had a therapist make a house call yesterday. He gave me some exercises that seem good ones. Gotta do two of them once an hour, though, so I’ve been busy. Also walked another mile and did some writing.

More tomorrow, I hope.

Posted in Autobiographica | No Comments »

Entry 462 — A New Saying

June 27th, 2011

Criticism of criticism: the mediocrity’s primary defense against being found out.

Posted in Miscellaneous Thoughts | Comments Off

Entry 461 — The Latest from the Rehab Center

June 19th, 2011

I guess it’s about ime I posted another entry. Not much going on here. I had hoped to be home from now–was making good progress with my physical therapy. The a setback: my surgical incision was infected. Result: an IV anti-biotic has been administered to me each day for the past five days. Five more round of it, then I get to go home, assuming it has worked, and all signs are that it will have.

I was pretty disgusted. So much time going by with little or nothing accomplished, even compared to some of my recent poor days at home. Then I remembered a chore I could do here: posting all my Small Press Review columns here at my new blog, something I’ve been meaning to do for some time. It’s been hard getting them properly formatted, but I’m getting them much more quickly posted now than when I did four days or so ago when I started the chore. They are in the Pages, under “Bob Grumman’s Small Press Review Columns,” 21 so far, but I hope to add a few more today.

I’ve read most of them as I posted them, relieved to find they seem pretty good to me. I hope to published two books of them, with commentary. They remain about the only published commentary on avant garde poetry anywhere in this country as far as I know.

Posted in Announcements, Autobiographica | No Comments »

Entry 460 — I’m an Avant Garde Poet

June 18th, 2011

Geof Huth recently claimed at his blog that there’s no such thing as avant garde poetry–because (as I understand him) all poetry issues from prior poetry. He instantly persuaded me of the existence of avant garde poetry, about which I’d been previously skeptical because nothing significantly new seemed to have been happening or even capable of happening in the arts anymore. I still believe the latter but what I suddenly realized is that “avant garde” means, or should mean, not significantly new but merely more new than the status quo. As, for instance, my mathematical and cryptograhic poetry are. I’m with Geof, though, in not thinking that considering onelf avant garde is that big a deal. An avant garde poet is not necessarily superior to a status quo poet.

Supporting Note: if Finnegans Wake was not avant garde, what was it? (I would add that it’s still avant garde.

Posted in Miscellaneous Thoughts | No Comments »

Entry 459 — Week No. 2 at the Rehab Center

June 13th, 2011

I’m doing all the exercises I’ve been asked to do. Today I got my own walker. This means I’m allowed to walk everywhere in the building on my own–so long a s I use the walker. I can walk, slowly, without it, but am not supposed to. There are all kinds of movements I’m supposed to avoid (and do). I seem in good shape but can’t walk naturally, or unnaturally without thinking about what I’m doing. No word yet on when I’ll be able to go home. I don’t mind being here much. Not getting anything done, though–unless you count finishing reading beautiful & pointless, by David Orr, which may be the worst book about poetry ever written. Orr thinks there’s no reason for poets to think they know anything more about using words than the man in the street does. Granted, many do not. Still . . .

Posted in Autobiographica | No Comments »

Entry 458 — A Quick In&Out

June 7th, 2011

I’m okay. Took me a long time to get access to a computer, and from it to the Internet. Am now trying to delete items in my server’s inbox so as not to go over my limit and I apparently don’t know how to do it because I’m doing it one e.mail at a time. I know I’ve at other times deleted many more at one time but can’t now. When done, almost certainly not until tomorrow, will say more about my current situation.

Posted in Autobiographica | 7 Comments »

Entry 457 — Off to the Hospital

June 1st, 2011

I’ll be off to the hospital in another half hour or so. I feel good. Things should go well. If everything works out maximally well, I’ll be able to make a blog entry from the hospital tomorrow. Don’t bank on that, though.

Posted in Aesthetics, Autobiographica | 1 Comment »

Entry 456 — My Latest Poem

May 31st, 2011

I posted it at New-Poetry early this morning. No comments back yet. I was hoping someone would say, “Wow, that’s great!” I really think it’s possible that few if anyone at New-Poetry–or maybe anywhere, can appreciate it as I do. I really do think that few people are not segreceptual, or incapable of quickly darting from one sensual modality to another, in this case from verboceptuality to wherever we process spelling and the conceptual significance of spellings quickly enough to appreciate the poem. A word-frame as the house of vowels, and then vacant.

I will be leaving my house tomorrow morning around six for the hospital and my hip surgery, so may not post an entry then, or for a while. I am not sure when I’ll next have access to the Internet. So don’t be surprised if there’s nothing new here for a week or more.

Note: I got all the things written I felt I had to before going to the hospital–after dawdling on all of them for days or weeks. Weird. I just couldn’t get them done–until I had to. Same thing happened most of the time with me in high school.

Posted in Autobiographica | No Comments »

Entry 60 — #717 through #720 « POETICKS

Entry 60 — #717 through #720

Nothing much going on in entries 717 through 720 from my old blog. The best thing in them was this aphorism of mine from #720:

. Sometimes my inferiority complex gets so bad, I think I’m God.

I was thinking about bi-polarism because an interesting chap calling himself “Bipolar Guy” had gotten in touch with me.

In #717 I listed the three major elements of intelligence in my knowlecular theory of psychology, accelerance, charactration (under its now obsolete name of “character”) and accommodance and defined them. In #718 I mumbled about how few visitors my blog gets and in #719 I mentioned an idea of Dan Waber’s–doing a character-sketch daily for a year, a fun idea but not something I thought I’d be able to do, and my latest Shakespeare Authorship Question experiences.

Nothing more, mainly because I’m wrecked, having played tennis for my senior men’s doubles team. Ordinarily coulbes woul dnever tire me, but I have a bad back, a bad knee, and a bad hip, all of which I’ve been trying to rest. Didn’t want to play but our team had only 6 players available, including me, for three matches, so I hadda. I gimped through a touch match against our opponents’ number three duo. It was thrilling. Really. We had the first set in the bag, 5 -1, but lost four in a row. Then we lucked out a victory, but lost the next game. I was shot by then, really hoping only to get the thing over with. But I actually ran in to get a few short shots that I hit for winners and we won the tie-breaker. Next set we lost the first game and were out of it from then on, losing 6-2. Because we’re old, we didn’t play a third set, instead bumbling through a ten-point tie-breaker. All I can say is that they were a little more eager to lose points than we, and we won–on a put-away by . . . tah dah, ME. The others on the team who had played and finished, plus several wives and players on our team unable to play but there to root, yelled, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!”

Our team is now 16 and 5, and either in second place or tied for first, depending on how the one team ahead of us in the eight-team league made out.

Tags: Nothing Much

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 31st, 2009 at 10:17 PM and is filed under Autobiographica. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Archive for the ‘Commercial Art’ Category

Entry 443 — I’m Still Here

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Entry 546 — I’m Back Home, and in Good shape

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Entry 515 — The Null Zone: Still Dominant

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Entry 1456 — Small Rant Against Euphemophilia

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Archive for the ‘Andrew Joron’ Category

Archive for the ‘Sexism’ Category

Entry 478 — Another Weak Hello

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Entry 60 — #717 through #720

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