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Thylacines Out of Season 5
THE STAFF here at bazznold, due to INTERNECINE distractions has undergone some Alterations of Editorship. R. Nold himself has become Crepusucularly involved in attempting to record for posterity his daily life in song and dance, yet still fulfil his obligatory bazznoldian duties to spread this necessary message. He always claims he has “staff to do that”, but he does not.
ABOUT”THYLACINES OUT OF SEASON”:
The mission is this: we must dream the thylacine back into existence, as almost everything that exists now was dreamt of first, and often in ‘science fiction’. Stringenly disseminate, study and inspissate our phantasial images.
Artists are removing online digital images from fear of AI interference and exploitation.
The “Tasmanian Tiger”, last proven sighting 1936, Beaumaris Zoo, Hobart.
Maybe we’re not next, but slouching there.
{NOTE for Design dept.: ADD Tas Coat of Arms]

Thylacines out of season 3






Statement of Purpose.
Here at bazznold it is hoped that some of my lifetime’s detritus may be securely saved for future generations in the Cyber Wonderland we have all come to love and respect for its permanence and guarantee of Immortality offered by the worldwide web we are all caught and stuck in, awaiting the arrival of the GodSpider we are here to nurture and preserve until such time as there is no longer any Where or Whysomeness in which our droppings can Live Forever. It is to be hoped that all Civilians who visit this Cyber Condominium will be enlightened and sustained for their “Journey” going forward in cliché-ridden certainty ever deeper into the Mystery as it folds, unfolds, and shifts inexorably onwards to ultimate shapelessness.
Thylacines Out of Season 1

The Thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger, despite its appearance, was not related to canines. It was a marsupial, and carried its young in a pouch, but facing backwards. Science now tells us its closest relative in Tasmania was the Tasmanian Devil, and two species of quolls, all much smaller animals, unalike in appearance..
It also existed on mainland Australia. It is unknown how many thousands of years it roamed Tasmania, with its only predators being the respectful Aborigines, who hunted and ate from need, not greed. There is no evidence they were sought as food, in any event, being carnivorous, with apparent finicky preferences for certain organs of their prey..
There have been no confirmed sightings since 1936, when “Benjamin” (possibly shown above) died in a Hobart zoo.
The invading colonists placed several bounties upon them through the 1800s, believing, or claiming they were a threat to sheep, a conjecture which recent scientific study has opposed. Hence they lasted only about 130 years after the invasion of “civilization”. Similarly, Tasmania was also home to a native Emu, smaller than its mainland cousin. By only fifty years of colonial occupation, they were scarce in the wild; the last one died in captivity in the 1870s. Most Tasmanians today are unaware they ever existed. All we can surmise is that they must have been edible.
Along with the shameful and evil Human depredations our ancestors committed on this island, utter and profound sins against Nature, including the wholesale murder of trees and habitats that were alive and thriving centuries before they inflicted their ignorance and arrogance, the passing of the emu and thylacine is enough to engender in me a raging fury and hatred towards the acts of my ancestors. This, on top of the outright lies kids of my generation were routinely told at aschool, that the original inhabitants were entirely extinct, and those on the mainland were not far behind.
Is it wrong to despise one’s ancestors? Surely a civilized race respects its elders? I see nothing to be proud of in our history.
This anger is what has engendered my series of paintings, “Thylacines Out of Season”. I cannot bring them back, nor their previous custodians, but I can at least attempt to dream them back again. “What If?” they were still around. There are old stories of their domestication, and many claims of sightings.
The search may be futile, talk and hopes of cloning also, but the Shame hovers guiltily over this land, and may the age-old Game of Soldiers and Convicts become extinct here and everywhere.








