I had to use a ladder for these. Both are 64-in. x 64-in. , and they are oil on canvas. I'm still working on titles. I think the cock will come a little easier than the horse.

Okay, not my "pal" in any real sense, but I like to think that nonetheless.

In 1982, I went to boy scout camp, and learned:

-how to use a compass
-row a canoe
-tie a bunch of knots to lash together a tower made out of found wood
-cook meat
-roll a joint
-smoke a joint
- and that Rush is one of the greatest bands of all time!
While other boys may have been drowning in the lake ( that happened) or getting molested ( that happened too), I chose to smoke pot in a tent and listen to the 1982 masterpiece Signals on a Panasonic boom-box with the "older boys".

I still think I made the right choice. That album still kills! That driving bass in "Countdown"? So awesome!

My grandfather had a tattoo of a butterfly on his forearm. He used to tell people that he got it in the Navy "during the war", and he'd wriggle his arm and say,"look at the wings flappin'". I do remember they actually looked like the were moving, but full-on "flappin'" may have been a stretch. Oh, I have come to find out that he was not "in the Navy" and never participated in any "war".
The tattoo was cool, though.
Here's something I don't like. Whenever you want to embellish the fact that you might be a little hungry or point out that someone looks a little thin...you can't reference Papillion
Like:

"Hey Papillion, eat this bag of pretzels. Lionel Hampton could knock out a tune on those ribs!"

or:

"Seriously, If I ate here every day, by the end of the week I'd look like Papillion!"

Crickets.