׉?4ׁB!בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://2dkWCrjxN606kQadyQSNPAWv__5lLR8gfqlhFUZXptoF`׉ 7cassandra://gIgIoIvOYiFz4gfU5q27RPLDIAXw8X3tLRnN265fJbU̓`r׉ 7cassandra://ZJAbetpQNwua0Jsnx_4ClVTrUcLqJezlktc2uGUzXAQ)`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7f׉E׉ 7cassandra://ZJAbetpQNwua0Jsnx_4ClVTrUcLqJezlktc2uGUzXAQ)`h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://I7vr1o8U-2UQKCpiKVx2CrcSZalQY4yhwxB3prgk5R0`et׉ 7cassandra://QdPvcQhDb23d-vWA-hTd0Mja2InsCKCeYgLM0dGoOQc`׉ 7cassandra://iH-7Pnmy1UmErX0VE2VrlHGcZKEhbrBpLyqn_85edhYY`h>&{p7f!נh>&{p7f& 9ׁH http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACTׁ ׁ Јנh>&{p7f%t 9ׁH$http://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONSׁ ׁ Јנh>&{p7f$Ģ 9ׁHhttp://BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOPׁ ׁ Јנh>&{p7f#Vp 9ׁHhttp://BIRDY.MAׁ ׁ Ј׉E׉ 7cassandra://iH-7Pnmy1UmErX0VE2VrlHGcZKEhbrBpLyqn_85edhYY`h>&{p7f׉EISSUE 140 | AUGUST 2025 CAT PANDAS: KRYSTI JOMÉI UNICORN BAT: JONNY DESTEFANO GRASSHOPPER BINOCULARS: JULIANNA BECKERT BEACH FOSSILS: KAYVAN S. T. KHALATBARI SMOKEY IIIIII: CRISTIN COLVIN PING ISLAND: MARK MOTHERSBAUGH RAVEONETTES: AMANDA SHAFER 8MM: ALAN ROY OZZY: DANIEL LANDES SUPPORT OUR FRIENDS AND BENEFACTORS: ANALOG SALON, COCREATE PBC, COLORADO FESTIVAL OF HORROR, MUTINY COFFEE AND COMICS, MONKEY BARREL, SUNNYSIDE MUSIC FESTIVAL, COLORADO TATTOO CONVENTION & EXPO, MIXED MESSAGES, ART CARD DISPATCH, MARKET IN THE PARK-ET, WATERCOURSE FOODS, CITY, O' CITY, COLORADO SUN TOFU, OFF THE BOTTLE REFILL SHOP, BROOM BOOK & CANDLE: HORROR WRITERS RETREAT, UNDERSTUDY, DENVER THEATRE DISTRICT, PLANNED PARENTHOOD OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS, BENNY BLANCO'S, TOXOPLASMA ARTS FRONT COVER: AARON WOOD, RADIO SILENT - @HOLLYWOODINDIAN BACK COVER: NICK FLOOK, NUCLEAR PARADISE - @FLOOKO BASS DRUM OF DEATH: JASON WHITE, BRIAN POLK, NICK FLOOK, DAN MORAN, JOEL TAGERT, JOE VAUX, ZAC DUNN, MATTHEW C. MARINER, XANDER SMITH, HANA ZITTEL, JOSH KEYES, JORDAN DOLL, TOM MURPHY, ERIC JOYNER, DAVE DANZARA, ROB GINSBERG, ISAAC BURTON MADLIB: AARON WOOD, RAFAEL MALDONADO BAD HAND, ROBBIE WARD, MATT HAVER, SUSANN BROX NILSEN, C., CEDAR KESHET, LEIGH OVIATT, EMILY EMERSON, PANDA GOLIK, SVETLANA FLAT 55: MARIANO OREAMUNO, DS THORNBURG, PHIL GARZA, ZAC DUNN FOLLOW US – IG: @BIRDY.MAGAZINE | FB: @BIRDYMAGAZINE SUPPORT BIRDY - 6 & 12 MONTH MAILED SUBSCRIPTIONS + ISSUES + MERCH: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SHOP BE IN BIRDY – ART + WORDS + COMEDY + ET CETERA: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/SUBMISSIONS ADVERTISE IN BIRDY + KEEP INDEPENDENT ART ALIVE: BIRDYMAGAZINE.COM/CONTACT-US BIRDY IS A HYBRID MOMENT, DEPTH CHARGE MONTHY ©2025 BIRDY MAGAZINE, LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN SNAKE 1 h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://PXiCO3VTUJyrJ6dzJHA2srBKUWS931Sc4ecVXxVl_U01`et׉ 7cassandra://4O0-UG0GA6K6tSu7D67LpRwPipVoFJmHa_U-i76Bz5Q`׉ 7cassandra://QYTFR4MBQU57j3IPkk7FkLYVJiEJrowKnMAjG26b5UEQ`h?&{p7f'נh?&{p7f-̀9ׁHhttp://birdymagazine.comׁ ׁ Ј׉EmForcing My Ape Mind To Try To Make Sense Of The Unknowable Can Really Be Unsatisfying At Times. by Brian Polk I’m Not Sure How Long I’m Supposed To Wait After Sexting With My Partner To Send Her A Text About Picking Up Some Garlic Powder From The Store I mean, the last sext was sent at 5:43 p.m., and it is now 6:17 p.m. Don’t get me wrong, the sexting was hot, but everything good has to end, right? It’s just weird to see a text about how I want to go down on my partner for three hours straight right above one that says, “Hey babe, need some garlic powder for the stir fry. Could you pick me up some on your way home?” But the garlic powder really is a key ingredient, so I need to get this information to her. Maybe I should come up with a segue text? But even if I did, what would that look like? I could quote Monty Python, “And now for something completely different …” Or I could say, “That was hot, but like, I’m making dinner now and kind of need your help with something …” Well, maybe not that last one. Shit, now that I think about it, too much time has lapsed to even reference that last sext at all, so maybe I’m overthinking this. Besides, even if I don’t send this particular text about a much-needed kitchen staple, I’m eventually going to have to send another one that isn’t related to sex. It might as well be about garlic powder, right? Hmm. I suppose I could just call, but I don’t want her to think there’s an emergency or anything. Jesus, I’m way too old for this. I Decided The Next Band I Start Should Be Really Popular And Make A Lot Of Money For the last 30 years or so, I have been playing in bands that never find an audience. So I had this idea to recruit musicians who can help write songs that other people — and not just friends and family — might actually like. I figured then we could inspire people to listen to us, see our shows, and buy our merch. That way, I could make some money, and I wouldn’t have to work full-time or even work a day job at all! I could just play music and have that be my job. I wonder why I’m just now thinking of this. The Best Way To Answer The Question, “Am I Sick Or Is It Allergies?” Is To Go Out Partying The second you wake up the next morning, you will have your answer. After Avoiding Apple Cinnamon Cheerios Ever Since I Threw Up Several Bowls-Full Back In 1989, I Have Decided Maybe It’s Time To Give Them Another Chance I have avoided this particular cereal ever since that fateful day in the ‘80s when the three bowls of milk and apple-cinnamon flavored multi-grained O-shapes didn’t quite make it through the digestion process. The third grade me was so upset by the experience that I haven’t had a solitary spoonful ever since. Upon intense introspection, I think it might be high time I revisit the cereal, since I do remember enjoying it immensely before “the incident.” I should probably also try Crystal Pepsi once again, because I used to love it as well, and I haven’t had so much as a sip since 1994. I Feel Like We Haven’t Had A Good Conversation In A Long Time So you’ve been reading my column for years now, and I’ve been trying to write content that I think you would like. And it’s just like, I don’t know … I feel like we haven’t really connected with each other in months. You used to say such nice things about me. And I remember how much I used to appreciate you. But so much time has passed, and we don’t connect like we used to. It’s like the fire’s gone, baby. And I really feel like we should stop taking each other for granted and start reminding each other why our relationship was so special to begin with. What do you say? (Please send your response to: birdy@ birdymagazine.com) “Why Don’t You Make Like An Ice Officer And Hide Your Face In Shame” I’ve been saying this every time someone makes a bad joke or something. Feel free to use it. No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://QYTFR4MBQU57j3IPkk7FkLYVJiEJrowKnMAjG26b5UEQ`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://xq3fVwPU0nlH8cHVmPTrrHq-JCP8ntjQ3Iol63Jkir8e`et׉ 7cassandra://sZgYggPQ2IZ8WVAEsa6hncK1_STAoGSg4NkISQDV1v4 `׉ 7cassandra://KXjqPkqFC-JUyQXUCHGZbOnpV4nKpqcBbxongQx5mw8T`h?&{p7f*׉ENICK FLOOK, ALIGNED -@FLOOKO ׉ 7cassandra://KXjqPkqFC-JUyQXUCHGZbOnpV4nKpqcBbxongQx5mw8T`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://B7cgWvB2rqO7_eqFn9XsHcXLeMpaclcNcncrF0MSi_YKA`et׉ 7cassandra://wr-Rc2nPhbwegPBaaDm_Niom3TCY0eHP5e5iuCNrEHE`׉ 7cassandra://9yhCKxvpzjGihS1bDg52O_bXFgAdfwvy3RYIXfvXcQ4?<`hC&{p7f.׉EBY JOEL TAGERT All through the lowlands the cherries dangled ripe and red from the trees, begging to be eaten. The soldiers of Kueh Feng’s army, hungry after the months of their bitter campaign, were happy to oblige; and having gorged, by the time they reached the foothills many were shitting their guts out, dysentery already being a severe problem. This was bad enough when so many had to squat suddenly by the roadside, slowing down the march; it was far worse when they were chained together as they entered the fogcloaked hills of Huliyashan. “Seven hells, Huang,” cursed Chen, rattling the iron links between them, turning his head in disgust. “Your shit smells like–” “Shhh!” hissed the man in front of Chen, Zhu Gang. “Shhh yourself, you pimply ass.” He struck his comrade-at-arms in the shoulder with a jangle of leather and mail. “What are you, fifteen? I was fighting battles and fucking women when you were sucking on your mother’s tit.” “Listen!” whispered Zhu, and the urgency in his tone did shut Chen up. They did not stop walking, but from the northeast, amid the pines, they heard the sound of a very young girl, singing an old nursery rhyme: “The mouse told the three wolves, follow me home / I’ll show you where the dead men have hidden their bones / a lake so still with water so black / there’s no way you’ll ever come back.” “Who’s out there?” yelled Chen suddenly. Zhu cursed, but Chen just ignored him. A few heads turned curiously up and down the line, but the mist had a way of deadening sound. From behind a black-barked pine poked the head of a young girl, perhaps No. 140 DAN MORAN, SAMURAI MARCH | BEST OF BIRDY ISSUE 062, FEBRUARY 2019 ׉ 7cassandra://9yhCKxvpzjGihS1bDg52O_bXFgAdfwvy3RYIXfvXcQ4?<`h>&{p7f׉Efive years old. After one wide-eyed look, she ducked back behind the bole. “Aha!” laughed Chen. “There you are!” He made a show of hiding his face behind his hands, then opening them with a surprised look. The ploy yielded results, as the girl again poked her head out, smiled and pulled back. This back-and-forth continued a few more steps, but since the soldiers, chained as they were, could only continue marching forward, in a moment she had to dart to another tree. “Now I see you! What’s your name?” With one hand still on her tree, she stepped out to look at them. She wore northern garb: a grayish leather coat trimmed with brown fur, a skirt of homespun cotton, and small fur-lined boots. Her face was pale, clear-skinned and big-eyed, but also very dirty; and looking closely, they could see that her clothes were also covered with pine needles and bits of leaves. “Are you going to jail?” she asked. “Because we’re chained together?” Chen rattled the links. “No. This is just to stop us from getting lost.” “But you’re grown-ups.” “Even grown-ups get lost sometimes. But you’re not lost, are you?” She shook her head. “Where are your mom and dad?” An unhappy shrug. “Do you live here?” A nod. “Then where are you going?” she asked, flitting to another tree to keep up with them. “Gyontse Castle,” said Huang from behind, earning a look from Chen. The little girl shook her head. “Gyontse isn’t a castle. It’s a jail. Everybody knows that. I think you’re bad men going to jail.” With that she turned and ran back off into the woods. Chen called after her a couple times, but she was gone. He turned and aimed a half-hearted kick at Huang. “Are you an idiot? You could have just given information to the enemy.” Huang scowled, still obviously unwell, holding his belly. “Where else would an army be going in these mountains?” Zhu turned. “What did she mean when she said Gyontse is a prison?” Chen’s rough, scarred face knotted. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. And I don’t like being fucking chained.” Again he rattled the iron links joining them neck to neck. “What if it’s true?” Huang asked darkly. “What if Gyonste is actually a prison?” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “We are chained. Doesn’t that make a kind of sense?” “We still have our weapons,” muttered Chen, fingering the bow on his shoulder. “Sure, but it’s not easy to use them when you can’t move freely, is it? And we can’t see thirty feet, never mind what’s in the next valley. All they have to do is lead us into a tight corner, then round us up.” “Bullshit.” “These chains are to save us,” said Zhu fervently. “Didn’t you hear Kueh Feng? There are spirits in Huliyashan, living in the caves. They lure travelers to their lairs and suck away their souls.” “That’s bandits, not spirits,” said Chen. “Well, I heard there used to be a town here, called Baga. Hundreds of people lived there; it was at the crossroads of this very road we’re walking, and another road going east-west. One day this fog came rolling out of the caves nearby, and it never went away. The next time anyone went to Baga, all the people had vanished. They say their meals were left half-eaten on the tables. That’s why the chains. If you wander off, you’ll disappear, just like the villagers.” Chen pursed his lips. “Just stories. Who ever heard of Baga?” “No one, because it’s not there anymore,” rejoined Zhu. “Maybe that’s who she is,” Huang said after a while. “What’s that?” “The girl. Maybe she’s one of the villagers.” “Shut up,” said Chen. “Fucking thief. I don’t know why they even let you in this army. Probably the real reason we’re chained is to stop conscripts like you from deserting in these hills.” “They’d never find anyone if they did run off,” Huang said, speaking low. “That’s probably who’s really living in those caves.” Chen glared. “You want to get flogged, or worse? You could be executed for that kind of talk.” “I’m not saying we should run. I’m just saying it makes sense. In these hills, in this fog? They’d never find you. Besides, aren’t you sick of fighting poor northerners armed with pitchforks and scythes? Since we defeated Trinyen, this isn’t a war, it’s a slaughter.” “Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you,” Chen said, clenching his fist. “These animals are getting what they deserve.” Huang just shrugged, having no bowels for a fight. But they were not yet done with their young visitor. After just a few minutes they saw her keeping pace with the march, short legs going fast. “Why are you going to the castle?” she called out. “We’re going to fight the sorcerer Kugal and end the war,” growled Chen. She looked horrified. “Kugal Ponchen? But Kugal is a very holy man. He healed my sister when she was sick with fever.” “Lies. He sent a plague on our livestock. Our cows died, and those who ate them died too. My own sister died of it, vomiting blood. He made a deal with demons.” “You’re the demons!” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. “Men like you killed everyone in our village. Now you’re going to march somewhere and burn more villages and more forests and say it’s because of some curse. You deserve to go to jail!” She turned and fled. Just as she was disappearing into the fog, the chain behind Chen fell loose. He started, and Huang dashed east into the woods, following the child. The collar he had been wearing still dangled on the chain, the lock picked. The soldiers nearby yelled and pointed, but Chen was swiftest of all, drawing his small bow, sweeping an arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the string in one smooth motion, tracking the fleeing Huang. With a low thwuck the arrow flew. By then Huang was already deep in the trees and mist, a shadow in the gray. They heard a pained grunt. A moment’s silence; and then, raising the hair on their arms, there followed a series of growls, hacks and whines. It might have been Huang in his death throes, or a passing beast, or something darker and hungrier. But chained as they were they could not stop moving, so each fixed their eyes on the feet in front of them and marched on. 7 h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://jaUUuZFvyzrBYbxPkpgW3paWFAfR0mVz9oUG58mZfZA`et׉ 7cassandra://fU2QnrI9t4USxfR41sjcsSD1KIt2qo-x4wINyhwa598`׉ 7cassandra://09PHTEXUPsaajNuAmdD_pyIs8EMKNhyAVKpjSfsmZkYS `hC&{p7f0׉E0JOE VAUX, DISTANT MAMMARY - IG + BSKY: @JOEVAUX ׉ 7cassandra://09PHTEXUPsaajNuAmdD_pyIs8EMKNhyAVKpjSfsmZkYS `h>&{p7f׉EBY ZAC DUNN ART BY JOE VAUX The captain and crew knew the strait held untold peril and yet spat in the face of NEPTUNE. But as the waves surged the tentacles emerged from the deep. Two heads and JAWS that hunger to chomp upon the flesh of fearful seamen rose like TITANS of old. The hull buckled and creaked, muting the screams of the DOOMED as the beast's wrath consumed them WHOLE. FOLLOW FOR MORE - IG: @UZIEGO | TUMBLR: @SAVAGESNEVERSLEEPNYC h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://0gkhib73fSmQVGCIURdkCLHc0iZJmyEPT4j3dfEp3OIq`et׉ 7cassandra://6uRaaDKG3S6JWjK_I3aQazcoAJIbZkYS9DWo0_lSoTI0`׉ 7cassandra://V8zFdKhxxpfTarGS8MGC1TUG2N1fXmM1uGt0bxNshhIEv`hC&{p7f2׉EGMARK MOTHERSBAUGH, GOD MADE MAN, BUT HE USED A MONKEY TO DO IT No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://V8zFdKhxxpfTarGS8MGC1TUG2N1fXmM1uGt0bxNshhIEv`h>&{p7f׉E-11 ROBBIE WARD, RESURRECTION -@ROBBIEWARDART h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://2No5yXgqbZnFF9an01hAep02AecGpaHpfEBE_gUCV2Quc`et׉ 7cassandra://o-6P8f5YcI6Q4dh9wGSSv5hZo1CiElMu_cZ0-nL49rU``׉ 7cassandra://oU2FdWb5QkaM_Ys0lGmBortq3tAYrnmAh3hU9dkqWjMR/`hC&{p7f5נhC&{p7f7_9ׁH'http://WEIRDWONDERFULSUSI.BIGCARTEL.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉ETHE WEIRD & WONDERFUL WORLD OF SUSANN BROX NILSEN Glasshytta Blåst is the world’s northernmost hot shop since 2002. As the founder Silja Skoglund and I are very good friends, we often do fun projects together, like the recreation of my Tim Burton inspired “Frankenweenie” scrap doll into glass two years ago. After its success we've been urging to do it again! Whale safari is a very popular tourist attraction here in Tromsø city, so we decided to use that as an inspiration. Tromsø is where we live: a cute town in Northern Norway surrounded with mountains and aurora borealis. (Gives a Lord of the Rings’ The Shire vibe.) I work with mostly recycled fabric and materials, and I especially love to use scraps and leftovers. I had lots of denim laying around, which was prefect for a blue and fringy look! I made clay teeth for them, because all goofy whales have one tooth. Glassblowing is a close collaboration with several people, each with their own task. It all starts with a big blob of glowing liquid. The majestic furnace, which goes by the name, “Glory Hole,” keeps a temperature close to 2,250° Fahrenheit. (Yes, we actually barbecued hot dogs a couple of times for lunch.) All in all it took about 35 minutes to make one whale, before needing to stay in the “slow cooler” for the night. Still, to this day, I haven't been lucky to see a wild whale, so this will have to be the next best thing! CHECK OUT SUSI’S WEIRD AND WONDERFUL CREATIONS ON INSTAGRAM: @SUSI_THEWEIRDANDWONDERFUL AND SNAG ONE-OF-A-KIND PLUSHIES AND PRINTS AT WEIRDWONDERFULSUSI.BIGCARTEL.COM FRANKENWEENIE HVALDEMAR SUSI & OWNER SILJA SKOGLUND HVALDOR HVALRIKKE No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://oU2FdWb5QkaM_Ys0lGmBortq3tAYrnmAh3hU9dkqWjMR/`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://uGzOJyFFOSP66zOGo88vdJAuHnRl_HVfwOibRUbxsoM`et׉ 7cassandra://hxPFHRRkU-qNGMIiLfPnp9at0mGC_aySV9Qa6oCGe0g0R`׉ 7cassandra://FIObi5G4fjTI-eBzaORPZ-s17DA6eMYQld7OdnFz5cM_j`hD&{p7f8׉E4By Hana Zittel I Gave You Eyes and You Looked Toward Darkness by Irene Solà, Translated by Mara Faye Lethem (2025) “As if in that gruesome kitchen, filled with ghosts, she no longer cared about the things of the past. Entire lives. Daughters and mothers.” Joana begged God, the Virgin, and Saint Anthony to give her a husband, desperate not to end up alone. When an old woman in the village sees her crying about this fate, the woman suggests, “If One doesn’t listen, why not ask it of the Other?” Tempted, Joana learns the spell from the woman to summon the devil and make her plea. When the foul bull arrives, Joana asks for a “full man” in exchange for her soul. The next day she is engaged to Bernadí Clavell, a man whose family was eaten by wolves. Losing his own pinkie toe in the exchange, he has spent his life hunting them in revenge. Joana and Bernadí inherit the farmhouse, Mas Clavell, intending to raise their family there, but the devil soon returns to collect what he’s owed. Joana quickly and cunningly outwits the devil, letting him know that he did not deliver on his side of the deal. Bernadí was not a full man, he was missing his pinkie toe. Thinking the devil was defeated, Joana soon realizes the cost of her defiance. Her first child is born with part of her heart missing, her second without a tongue, and so on, all missing a tiny but vital piece. Some survive, while some die painful, early deaths due to their lacking parts. Joana’s hubris casts a curse on her bloodline as generation and generation of women and children are haunted, lacking, and tied to Mas Clavell. Yet, they build lives together, suffer unimaginable brutality and horror, indulge in pleasure, and remain unable to break the ties to their ancestors. Irene Solà’s novel is a multigenerational epic, soaked in folklore and fairy tales, contained in a slim novel. Demons and witches, wolves and goats, the devil and ghosts, all swirling around one home, mother followed by daughter. Solà’s writing lingers on gory details and meanders through captivating description while still capturing an immense and expansive world contained within Mas Clavell. I Gave You Eyes and You Looked Toward Darkness is a remarkable and strange creation that bends the path of linear storytelling and genre. This is Solà’s second novel translated from Catalan to English, preceded by 2022’s When I Sing, Mountains Dance. Milk White Steed by Michael D. Kennedy A comic contributor to The New York Times, The Atlantic, and The New Yorker, Michael D. Kennedy’s debut full-length release captures 10 short comic stories in Milk White Steed. Kennedy melds Caribbean folklore, surrealism, and history in a collection filled with original storytelling and otherworldly imagery. A little boy goes missing when he’s followed by a ligahoo, a shapeshifting monster that travels through drains and can morph into a man or a dog. In a quick series of panels, Duke Ellington fails an attempt to bring jazz to Mars. In one of the standouts of the book, Yellow Bird Blues, the panels all appear in black, white, and bright yellow as a wife left at home by her musician husband starts to suspect his wrongdoings and begins to hallucinate after breathing in mushrooms growing from her floor. Combining simple, surreal, and, at times, intricate illustrations in sparsely colored frames gives Kennedy’s collection a unique visual mark. Each panel stands on its own as a work of art. These extraordinary drawings paired with his otherworldly stories based in folklore mark this collection as an exciting debut from a seasoned creator. No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://FIObi5G4fjTI-eBzaORPZ-s17DA6eMYQld7OdnFz5cM_j`h>&{p7f׉E5Featured artists: C. Cedar Keshet Leigh Oviatt 22 15 h>&{p7f h>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://DtWXIW4d-DYpVYz3QC6CeS2hivTsuUofbsFw7rsTECY]w`et׉ 7cassandra://1tYrp9yY-HcCCeV8FBWt7xTGXQ9BryGbgp5uhoooru0ͮf`׉ 7cassandra://ExG_2hXTYxo9Erz8unVKbkjUZvZMvygYRRy5ECUfDXc7:`hD&{p7f:׉E6JOSH KEYES, I’LL LOVE YOU TILL THE END OF THE WORLD ׉ 7cassandra://ExG_2hXTYxo9Erz8unVKbkjUZvZMvygYRRy5ECUfDXc7:`h>&{p7f ׈Eh>&{p7f h>&{p7f בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://9ZpVAl_x_-FdpSOxC5IXT77eDJf9KdPj-Hd2ACyib2Mp`et׉ 7cassandra://Xr15wnYv5jGhOWeBIF0sr_GyqwWJN5rQqel7yBeUWx8[`׉ 7cassandra://gypnPUp-vqK7kZD6-a4JYqlZnPKiVJ2HzWgWJVt7ynkN`hE&{p7f=נhE&{p7fA̱9ׁH!mailto:werewolfradarpod@gmail.comׁ ׁ Ј׉EOMNIBUS MONSTRICARIUM: Fearsome Critters of The American Frontier America: Land of the Free, Home of the Babes. A place where you are free to worship how you wanna worship (sort of), shoot what you wanna shoot (kind of), and vape where you wanna vape (from my COLD DEAD HANDS I say). But it wasn’t always that way, no siree. See, hundreds of years ago when the English fled England to escape the English, the America they arrived in was not the easy, breezy mecca of cultural bipolarism that it is today. It was a primal, untamed place fraught with unimaginable new dangers. Sure they had escaped the constant threat of black nights, wicked witches and various Sheriffs of Nottingham. But this place was something else. Rattlesnakes! Grizzly bears! And like, millions of people already living here who were like, “Hey, could you be cool?” Truly terrifying. Hell, you couldn’t go a day in frontier times without an eagle swooping down to snatch up your baby, then, while you were fighting off that eagle, a second eagle coming in and carrying off your husband. Yeesh! Eagles! Nevertheless, these people pushed westward, discovering new lands and animals as they went and, because every “new” nation needs a new mythology, inventing a few along the way. Tall tales of fearsome critters meant to caution children and poke fun at tenderfoots. Most of them so gloriously batshit insane that we here at Werewolf Radar simply had to sit down and share with you a few of our favorites. So join me, dear reader, on a wonderful weird-West safari, as we dive into this, the first ever WEREWOLF RADAR OMNIBUS MONSTRICARIUM: Fearsome Critters of the American Frontier edition. Hoop Snake (Fig. 1) The Hoop Snake is exactly what it sounds like: A hot new dance craze sweeping EDM clubs the nation over! No, not really, but that IS what it sounds like. However it also sounds like a snake that can bite its own tail in its mouth and roll along the ground like a wheel. According to frontier No. 140 mythology the snake would chase after people and prey in this fashion, reaching incredible speeds, until catching up and delivering a venomous sting with the fang imbedded in its tail. Apparently the best way to escape this rollicking critter was to dive behind a rock, or a tree, or a horse which would then take the bite, which was apparently potent enough to kill said horse, tree or … well, the rock was probably fine. Now, I know what you are thinking: Doesn’t that seem like an awful lot of work for a snake to go through just to snag a mouse or an unsuspecting pilgrim hiney? Also, wouldn’t the snake get all dizzy and barfy rolling around like that all the time? Further, would it be possible to affix two of the snakes to some kind of frame and fashion a snake cycle of sorts? The answer, at least from this cryptozoologist, is a triple yes. Squonk (Fig. 2) Next up we have the pitiful squonk. The squonk was described by frontier yarn-spinners as a creature so ugly and shameful that it spends most of its time hiding and weeping about how dang ugly and shameful it is. Characterized by its ill-fitting, wart-covered skin, the squonk has been known to dissolve into a puddle of tears when cornered or captured by those who would want to bag this utter ray of sunshine for whatever reason. What are you gonna do with it once you catch it? Sit around listening to Elliot Smith and smoking clove cigarettes with it? No. I’ll tell you what you are gonna do if you ever catch a squonk. Makeover, baby! We need to work on that self-esteem, girl! A coat of rouge, a push-up bra and a few seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race oughta do the trick. And before you know it, everyone’ll be melting into a puddle when the squonk walks down the street, if you know what I mean. Yeah, I’m not sure either. Cactus Cat (Fig. 3) Okay, imagine a cactus. Got it? Now imagine a cat. Now put the two together. NO! Not like that! Oh God, that poor cat! That poor cactus! Well, Elliott ׉ 7cassandra://gypnPUp-vqK7kZD6-a4JYqlZnPKiVJ2HzWgWJVt7ynkN`h>&{p7f ׉Ethat didn’t go great. Anyway, the cactus cat is easily one of the best critters on this list. Not just because it was said to be a wildcat-like creature covered in cactus needles, but because it was also said to use its forked, spiny tail to slash open cactuses, wait a couple of weeks, and then return to get drunk on the fermented cactus water. Notoriously cantankerous, they ate scorpions and lived inside hollowed out cactuses. During mating season, the male cats were said to crack open their best boozy cactus and wait for the smell to attract a female, at which point the two would get drunk and produce a litter of cactus kittens. Why is the cactus cat a Werewolf Radar favorite? Well, if you can’t find the joy in an angry, drunk needle cat, stumbling around the desert, trying to get laid with scorpions on its breath, then you just don’t get what we here at Werewolf Radar are all about. Because it’s that. Exactly that, is what we’re about. Next! Jackalope (Fig. 4) Odds are if you grew up in any of the more “rootin’ tootin’” states you have probably heard about the Jackalope. The legendary hybrid offspring of a jackrabbit and an antelope, resulting in the antlered critter whose taxidermied heads festoon the walls of our favorite steakhouses from Denver to Phoenix. Hell, you may have even been sent off to chase after one by a particularly “fun” uncle who just sat by the fire drinking beer and giggling while you were off getting covered in ticks and poison oak, chasing after an animal that hasn’t been seen in the wild since, well, ever. Lying to children isn’t fun, Jerry. However! Unlike many of the crazy critters on this list, there may actually be some scientific basis for tales of the Jackalope. No, seriously. See, jackrabbits have been known to carry the Shope papilloma virus, a rabbitsonly affliction that can cause the critters to sprout large, woody looking warts that some have speculated, could grow large enough to resemble antlers on the animal’s head. Like how unicorns are just horses that got ice cream cones stuck to their heads, or how Willem Dafoe is just Julia Roberts when viewed in full sunlight. Dungavenhooter While many of the animals on this list draw the line at “mild nuisance,” the Dungavenhooter will: Mess. You. Up. Described as an alligator with a clubbed tail and a pair of enormous nostrils instead of a mouth, the lumber workers of the North Woods lived in fear that they would stumble across a Dungavenhooter while walking near a stream or river. The creature would then trip the unfortunate lumberjack or Jill and use its heavy tail to POUND THEM INTO A GODDAMN GAS, which it would then inhale through its oversized nostrils. WHAT THE HELL? I mean, there are a lot of embarrassing ways for a lumberjack to go out: Having their head hollowed out by a woodpecker. Being carried off in the night and built into a dam by beavers. Or even something as simple as doing whatever it takes to break that world flapjack-eating record. But this has gotta be a tough one to explain to the family of the victim. “I know this must be very difficult for you Mr. and Mrs. Lumberparents. But the gas that the Dungavenhooter made out of your son is rich in protein and has a fresh, piney scent. If you could just sign these release forms we can get right to work on preparing an aerosol version of your son for distribution in grocery stores nationwide.” I could go on for days here, faithful monstronauts: the wampus cat, the Agropelter, the sidehill gouger. Seriously. According to the average frontiersman, it was like a goddamn game of Yu-Gi-Oh! out there. But hopefully, armed with this new knowledge, you will feel a little safer the next time you venture out into that big, weird wilderness we call the American Fig. 3 frontier. Heck, maybe you could even be the next to discover some strange, new animal! What about some kind of turtle with a basketball instead of a shell? Or a raccoon with human hands that just slaps the shit out of people? OOH! What about just a great big dog that you could ride on, and it has pretty hair, and it eats hay and … I just invented a horse, didn’t I? Have questions about the paranormal? Send them to: werewolfradarpod@gmail.com | Twitter: @WerewolfRadar. It’s a big, weird world. Don’t be scared. Be Prepared. Fig. 2 Fig. 4 19 h>&{p7f h>&{p7f בCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://5t_lYEagIOs1AYXQaGTrldibHDX1oW2M62Ignftbz9Yt`et׉ 7cassandra://lrWJItjeJmAPXMvRApqe-sNoJheToUuC4DsOfiiSA6M`׉ 7cassandra://WpYfU-BElzPY9XjFBpOBWmkr95BosVJUjzL1fX3bc8I\7`hE&{p7f?׉E׉ 7cassandra://WpYfU-BElzPY9XjFBpOBWmkr95BosVJUjzL1fX3bc8I\7`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://-xp-mQNkeAYJXxy0SLqPVb0GyAoTBFRj1eZFP0YZrkEti`et׉ 7cassandra://C-JxT-tw_Vgqy1vKnK_2m1IOOdZ8rOeRntZUzHvjBec`׉ 7cassandra://m23R0GXm7yuSqlYIf3lQVp282CB8N7eiqffoITmKUbEU`hE&{p7fB׉EXART BY XANDER SMITH MATTHEW C. MARINER, MOOD LIFTERS 566, 655 & 7 - BEST OF 030 No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://m23R0GXm7yuSqlYIf3lQVp282CB8N7eiqffoITmKUbEU`h>&{p7f׉ESOULAR SYSTEM BY MATT HAVER at the end of my sidewalk is an inferno. walking into the fading light my feet carry me closer to a kiln that has burned for four billion years and will for another four or five. not that it matters. no matter the direction we go we all travel toward the true sol of our system. and isn’t it reassuring that when the inevitable firestorm consumes earth turning everything we know into dust shattering electrons vaporizing memory evaporating history that we too, every atom we are now, will be embraced by the very fire that birthed us? maybe that’s why I keep walking west, wayfarers in place, allowing this wayward-farer to stare straight into that glorious inevitability where we are all consumed together, for all time, whatever that is. 23 h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://7a3kIyboXS7ghlBO8Z_vPa9EkQxzcxOBeXUcjHhyVTgre`et׉ 7cassandra://3lizDgx3fwqrbqECfvNwpPdGjRUmx21Zd8RZuj298IMX`׉ 7cassandra://feAvnvJ0StjUPZFel6zraXKhCcTzwZROhvybZzCn__0O9`hG&{p7fDנhG&{p7fK 9ׁH*http://QUEENCITYSOUNDSANDART.WORDPRESS.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉E BY TOM MURPHY ANIMALS IN EXILE – S/T The mix of grit and iridescent tones across guitars and keyboards on this album immediately brings to mind an amalgam of R.E.M., Ride, and The Brian Jonestown Massacre. The classic pop and literary sensibilities of the first, the fire and soaring melodies of the second, and the organic psychedelic transcendence of the third at its best. It’s tempting to call this a shoegaze band since Jim McTurnan formerly of Cat-A-Tac joined. But Redding Bacon has long been laying the foundation for this set of songs that breathes fresh energy into a familiar palette of sounds, with production on the record that entrances with its vivid soundscapes and emotional immediacy. COVENHOVEN – THE COLOR OF THE DARK Joel Van Horne continues to craft the kind of pastoral folk that hits the ears as both intimate and transporting. With this new album, the singer and songwriter brings his signature baritone vocals and gift for evocative falsetto to emotionally augment these songs. Utilizing lap steel to embody the shimmer of starlight, the acoustic instrumentation grounds the tracks in tangible human existence. Van Horne takes us on a series of adventures into peak moments in life by gleaning from them the more subtle essences that linger with us as we reflect on and savor the experiences that form the threads of persistent memories. BODY BOY – S/T This EP draws you in with the wide expanse of “Honest” and its gentle organic textures. “Draining” with its abrupt starts and stops connected by intricate guitar lines and almost wordless vocals overall reminds one of something Frank Zappa might have done had he been a member of Hella. Then “Radiate” comes in with introspective moods and layered vocals that anchor the guitar work, arranged like tracing outlines of the slow waves of emotion that drift through the song. The reflective sprawl of closing track “Limitless” is like an abstract Flamenco ode to being tender and open to shared affections and dreams. No. 140 IN THE COMPANY OF SERPENTS – A CRACK IN EVERYTHING ITCOS is one of the heaviest bands that emerged out of the 2010s world of Denver doom metal, with epic, crushing guitars and percussion, and Grant Netzorg’s caustic vocals issuing forth sometimes fantastical tales of devastation and perseverance. But the dark heaviness here is buoyed by sun-drenched psychedelia. The lyrics delve unblinkingly into themes of perilous belief in delusional, self-destructive personal ideologies adopted to convey the illusion of strength, toughness and mystique while paving the road to your own hollowing out. Truly a record for the bleak times we’re living in when honest but compassionate self-reflection is widely needed. ׉ 7cassandra://feAvnvJ0StjUPZFel6zraXKhCcTzwZROhvybZzCn__0O9`h>&{p7f׉EMOONLIGHT BLOOM – LIVING THINGS On “Ships,” this band proves it is well-versed in using layers of sound and moods to create periods of tranquility and fiery psychedelia like they’re directly inspired both by Black Sabbath and Mogwai. The band lets scorches of hanging chords drift while bass and drums accent the pacing, taking us further through the song’s forward momentum into echoing guitar pyrotechnics. “Carry” is more of a soundscape of cinematic depth and hovering shimmers that serves as a musical path into the incandescent ripples of “Us.” “Forward” brings together the musical instincts of the rest of the record with great forward momentum in jazz-inflected Krautrockesque flourishes. PINK LADY MONSTER – PONK Breaking the space-time-culture barrier once again with this album, Pink Lady Monster proves it’s possible to make accessible music that challenges pop and genre conventions entirely. From the beginning the band signals that it is either familiar with and/or has absorbed the spirit of subversive art and music movements like Fluxus and No Wave with the spoken word of “I’m Paying Attention,” only to introduce elements of sampling in other songs like surreal leitmotifs. Themes of disengagement from the alienation of heavily marketed and commodified mainstream culture is creatively rendered throughout. And the entire album feels like the comforting words of people who get how often it’s helpful to create a parallel, alternative reality aesthetic and even consciousness to stay sane. Relentlessly yet charmingly creative, this is the most thoroughly enjoyable postpunk funk and No Wave pop for the disaffected going. FOR MORE, VISIT QUEENCITYSOUNDSANDART.WORDPRESS.COM 25 h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://u4oOrOHyWWuhrbwarkwpFHMcqv7iEHKCYgeRDQMBRA0s`et׉ 7cassandra://r5Q0kYOQOAsslNk6yl0sE_4CFiw-dpTo9M86Eas7nlc͸`׉ 7cassandra://FA9HVbRTwez3mPT8bUWuN_Fa260JXNWdgNOSNtfcSxYI`hG&{p7fFנhG&{p7fH%Ej9ׁHhttp://ERICJOYNER.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉E.ERIC JOYNER, CHARITY - ERICJOYNER.COM No. 140 ׉ 7cassandra://FA9HVbRTwez3mPT8bUWuN_Fa260JXNWdgNOSNtfcSxYI`h>&{p7f׉E27 PANDA GOLIK, 1984 h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://MOsmKDvTQF95lTuj-S0EBZ3RO9yi1pnYyuxhh-mxRaU`et׉ 7cassandra://_ndwN9fJB41Uglk0OH2jRXYA5JRzR8SRL8bF6zQFWdUs`׉ 7cassandra://KuuRj1LQzi-ksJXdfPw0RD01zOslF5goXjSbmmOLasw``hG&{p7fIנhG&{p7fL4u 9ׁHhttp://ROBGINSBERG.COMׁ ׁ Ј׉E׉ 7cassandra://KuuRj1LQzi-ksJXdfPw0RD01zOslF5goXjSbmmOLasw``h>&{p7f׉E5ROB GINSBERG (D.A.S.A.), DEVOLVED4 - ROBGINSBERG.COM h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://ohctBY7CKkHSHO6Rb1_8HTYb5D0CEfS0AMnOmSUWnnc*`et׉ 7cassandra://PMdLpJCc67z9hgStu83WmC_oE2Mv4QPjvlaCJvvU2oE؄`׉ 7cassandra://TfYYDxQ9eRLO3dNkNfoN0dOgP2DMVxPKAmjV2vpZ6KoEe`hG&{p7fM׉E׉ 7cassandra://TfYYDxQ9eRLO3dNkNfoN0dOgP2DMVxPKAmjV2vpZ6KoEe`h>&{p7f׉EPEOPLE OF PPRM: MEET SVETLANA STORY BY SVETLANA | ART BY ISAAC BURTON When I was 18, I was undocumented, uninsured, and juggling full-time work as a restaurant manager while attending college classes at night. Most days, I left home before sunrise, returned after 9 p.m., and collapsed into bed — barely surviving, let alone thriving. That’s when I found out I was pregnant. This was not a life conducive to motherhood. My partner was also undocumented and the sole caregiver for his sick, non-English speaking mother. Neither of us was ready. They say it takes a village to raise a child, but I had no family support, having fled an abusive home after immigrating from Russia. That’s how I found myself at Planned Parenthood. I walked into the clinic expecting judgment. In Russia, we had a saying: you don’t go to a doctor unless you’re dying. Public health care there was notoriously harsh, and I carried that fear and skepticism with me. But what I experienced at PPRM was the complete opposite — compassion, dignity, and thorough, thoughtful care. They walked me through the abortion process stepby-step, checked on me afterward to make sure I was okay, and even provided financial assistance to ease the burden. For the first time in a long time, I felt so truly seen and supported. That choice changed my life. I went on to earn a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree. I obtained a green card, and just a few months ago, I became a U.S. citizen. None of it would have been possible if I had been forced into motherhood at 18. Planned Parenthood gave me more than health care — they gave me the power to choose my future. Today, I’m proud to stand alongside them as a volunteer patient escort and fundraiser, giving back to the organization that once stood so powerfully with me. h>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://UEvnRS33jo8Cgppgh3KaG5IBJuQxlNM0z0mLBzibT_o``et׉ 7cassandra://JEH3FmuRMSnwTLOCohY_0J-w01shzqF2EA1-AnJaD7sͭ`׉ 7cassandra://N1WTCTlIKSMrptpVCkfCgd_tNRVzuAlEM0e3EOk5EHk;`hH&{p7fO׉E(DAVE DANZARA, OBEY - @LOSTINTIMESDESIGN ׉ 7cassandra://N1WTCTlIKSMrptpVCkfCgd_tNRVzuAlEM0e3EOk5EHk;`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7fבCטu׉׉ 7cassandra://OGSaTvZlap1Bvy9gJN2T1UquQBMuGyLbiO14lKziILc`׉ 7cassandra://08b3RUVhFcO59RNVJxrzuAhczi5Ae1NJz1A2egm2YfcC|`r׉ 7cassandra://2wgStQ34TnZB9IMFWQYgSuSbMDddXgjl91qc5tG0JWk`hH&{p7fQ׉E׉ 7cassandra://2wgStQ34TnZB9IMFWQYgSuSbMDddXgjl91qc5tG0JWk`h>&{p7f׈Eh>&{p7fh>&{p7f,BIRDY ISSUE 140Published August 2025. Birdy Magazine is Denver's only magazine: art, words, comedy, et cetera. Available monthly in print or online.h-,q!N}