014 – Meet their pets

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The economic girls present their pets.

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013 – Idiots, idiots everywhere!

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Keynie has bad days, too...

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* For real. I had to translate it to “half the drinks”, though it wasn’t exactly that. To “stimulate consumption”, the town council in the city of Melilla offered to pay for half the cosumptions in bars. That is, if you buy the drink, they give the “tapa” (a small dish of whatever food is available at the bar) for free, or viceversa, during two months this 2012. I couldn’t write “tapa” in English, so I used “drinks”, but in any case, they tried to stimulate economic growth by… giving away free stuff at bars.
In case anyone hasn’t noticed, that’s NOT what Keynesianism is about, or what it should be about. It’s about spending when economy contracts, true. But the spending should be properly done. For example, if the Spanish government had used the 2008 surplus to create a nationwide optic fiber broadband net, the net would exist nowadays, the state could hire it to communication companies, and the service would be available to citizens. Win-win-win situation, and lasting in time. However, when the then-president heard of Keynesianism, he stopped at “spending”. Or, more probably, being a man not prone to accept responsibility, he gave away the money to towns and city councils in hopes of not being responsible should they waste it. I’m afraid he’s responsible anyway.
When I think about the great push that surplus could have made for Spain, had it been used properly, I want to cry, punch someone and burn the Parliament. We are so much in the hands of morons.

That said… I HATE stereotypes. I’m from Seville, and I hate the fact that everyone takes for granted I can dance flamenco. Which I can’t. So, whenever Spain is portrayed as… flamenco, tortilla, fiesta, paella, I get angry. I DESPISE, loathe and hate the flamenco stereotype. Then, why did I use it here? Well… Because I despise what Spain did (and is doing) to its economy. That dress I put Spain in is my version of an insult. I would like to draw Spain as someone more modern, cultivated, stylish and sophisticated. Alas, I honestly can’t.

012 – A bit of History

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Rise, Glory and Fall of sweet Keynie.

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OK, sorry for the delay, and specially for the lousy art. I’ll try to make it better as soon as my newfound baby lets me.
I am not a pet person. I love animals too much, and I respect them way too much as to not want the responsibility that comes with a pet. I not only hate to see an animal abandoned or mistreated… I also hate it when I see a dog bark asking for some caresses, tenderness and love, and the owner just slaps it. Animals, specially domestic ones, not only need proper care, vets, good food, proper education and playtime. They need love and affection. Which is why I never wanted to have one. I tend to avoid responsibility because once I have accepted it, I take it to heart. I did not want to have a pet because didn’t think I could take proper care of it. Oh, I love to watch them and all. I like to see them. But even when I’ve been offered adorable kittens or puppies (and I’ve had chances with amazing ones), I have refused, not wanting to accept responsibility.

That was until last Sunday.
I don’t know how to describe the change. People who don’t own pets won’t understand it, and people who do own pets maybe never were so reluctant to accept one or maybe always loved them and it’s hard to explain the shift from not wanting to do anything with pets to how I feel now about it.

Last Saturday I rode my bike to a nearby, pretty brook. And I heard a cat meowing. I tried to find it in case it was wounded, but I couldn’t so I thought it didn’t want to be found. But next day, Sunday, I went to the brook again, and the cat was meowing hysterically again. I thought it must be either hurt or lost, because it had been calling for someone two days.

It took a bit of time to find it. It was very well hidden (though still meowing heartbreakingly), and I almost didn’t see the tiny pair of green eyes. He’s black. Velvet black, really, with grey overtones and a few long white hairs on its back. Very silky. Looked pretty healthy, and quite loving, it seems an abandoned domestic cat. Color-wise, it was a witch’s cat, with one of my favourite color combinations: black hair and green eyes.

As I wrote before, I am not a pet person. I did not want the responsibility. But I couldn’t help the thought: “if it comes with me, I’m keeping it”.
I meowed.
He came out of the plants where he had been hiding, and came with me.

I don’t know how to explain this. I guess I can just remember Bran Stark’s first chapter in “Game of Thrones”. The book. It all can be summed in Jon’s sentence:
“This one’s mine”.