Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.
Jeremiah Ffafington-Ffawkes does not care for your protests, your “occupations” of “streets.” He thinks not of the plight of the 99 percent. He does not worship at your altar of greed.
Instead, Jeremiah Ffafington-Ffawkes is above all of those proletarian concerns. He rides his majestic conveyance, his jaunty scarf wafting in the breeze he creates with the power of his own legs and gears. From his perch, the fuss and the rabble is reduced to nothing more than a dim hum and a faint odor of patchouli on the Autumnal breeze.
Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.