
C’MERE YOU GRUMPY OLD SAINT
no
C’MERE AND LEMME CUDDLE YOUR FACE
no i came to the desert to be alone
IF I DON’T GET TO CUDDLE YOUR SCRUMPED-UP LITTLE OLD MAD FACE IN THE NEXT FOURTEEN SECONDS I MIGHT DIE
YOU CAN KEEP PRAYING WHILE I CUDDLE YOU IF YOU WANT
well
ok then
but only for a minute
YESSSSS THANK YOU YOU OLD DESERT MAN

HI LIL BUDDY
DON’T GET UP I JUST GOTTA COME OVER AND HUG YOU BY THAT WEE LIL GODHUT YOU’VE GOT THERE REAL QUICK

YOU FANTASTIC LITTLE FROWNING GOBBET OF GOD-MAN LET ME CUDDLE YOU

EVERYBODY GET OUTTA THE WAY SO I CAN HUGGLE THIS TENDER MANHILL WITH HIS BEARD WATERFALL

AHAHAHHAHAH I’M GONNA SNUGGLE YOU UP YOU LIL OLD READER BUDDY

GIMME YOUR BODY FOR ME TO HOLD TIGHTLY LIKE A GOOD FRIEND PLEASE

ST LUKE THE STYLITE ARE YOU WORRIED YOU’RE TOO HIGH UP ON YOUR GODPILLAR FOR ANYBODY TO HUG AND CUDDLE YOUR FACE? WELL WORRY NO MORE BUD I’M A-COMIN

MACARIUS I DON’T EVEN MIND THAT YOU ALMOST HAVE GOT NO FACE LEFT, I’LL STILL CUDDLE YA

nobody better be comin up here to hug me and be my friend
no room for friendship up here
no way no sir
oh i’m comin’ up there to be your pal all right
don’t you do it!!!
gonna hug you right up buddy
i’ll fight ya if you do!!!
no sir i’m gonna come up there and be your friend and we’re gonna have hugs
i don’t wanna!!!
i think you do
you can push me off if you really don’t want to hug but i think you’re gonna love it
well
maybe
MAYBE
[Images via]
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.
heeheeheeehee
“Beard Waterfall.” Also that last one is perfect. So many frowns! So many “step off” hands!
Please do not attempt to touch the hermits. Please do not feed the hermits. The hermits are easily startled, do not approach them. No flash photography, please. Appreciate the hermits from a distance. Hermits are vulnerable to the casual transmission of many diseases. By not touching the hermits, you are keeping them safe and healthy.
According to this article, bringing alcoholic beverages may sway them in your favor? http://www.vice.com/read/the-peculiar-case-of-a-m…
See here, youngster. The hermit population has been growin’ unchecked for generations now, propagating religious fundamentalism and building thatched-roof huts all over our national parks. Eventually, those hermits will start overpopulatin’ and some of them may even bump into each other, and then we’ve got ‘urselves a holy war in the middle of the goddurned wasteland.
Alls I’m saying is that we should be able to hunt these fellas with high-powered scoped rifles as our father an’ forefathers before us done.
Do not taunt happy fun hermit.
I’m going to become a curmudgeonly saint and nobody can stop me. And I’m going to be canonized with a buddy, because curmudgeons need grumbling partners.
Statler and Waldorf! If every curmudgeon was made of felt and foam there would be no end to the cuddling.
I would cuddle them so hard.
When I become a curmudgeonly saint I will bring a sharp pokey stick to fend off huggers.
Mallory I am merely a grumpy hermit wannabe, but you could cuddle me.
but where are their legs!!!
and that fourth-to-last dude has a legit parquet floor robe
I was gonna say a woven bacon mat, but parquet is accurate.
I thought bark, maybe. It seemed both penitential and locally sourced.
Don’t know what it says about me that my first thought was wine bottle corks…
Yup. Wine related items everywhere.
Poor St. Luke with a pillar for legs. 🙁
Now I think you just have a thing for beards.
Too stringy and bony for good cuddles, those desert fathers.
I don’t think I’ve ever related to a post on The Toast dot net more. Outwardly grumbly, inwardly cuddly.
Also my dream life is that last painting. A tiny tower, and one curmudgeonly friend.
Oh my word were Marilla Cuthbert and Rachel Lynde kind of grumpy hermit friends?
Take out the religion part and suddenly you have me and my husband when he hasn’t had dinner yet.
Mallory how do you words. I am just… yes.
At least one of those hermits has a sharp rock and wants to circumcise me.
Mallory. You are everything. Never stop.
“IF I DON’T GET TO CUDDLE YOUR SCRUMPED-UP LITTLE OLD MAD FACE IN THE NEXT FOURTEEN SECONDS I MIGHT DIE” this is me with weird looking cats. Well ok with all cats. But the weird looking ones particularly.
This reminds me of Kate Beaton’s take on Edgar Allan Poe & Jules Verne (in a good way) – his scrumped up lil face in the balloon http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php/index.php?i…
Verne & Poe is my favorite Beaton comic! Also, Poe definitely needs all the hugs, much like these hermits.
Kind of want to live in that hut, because you can tell just by looking that nobody else lives within like 50 miles. Even though he almost certainly does not get electricity or running water or internet service.
Also I am kind of confused by the door being set about three feet up the wall there and also appearing to be about three feet high. Is it two stories and the bottom one is below ground level? Is the floor just set a ways up off the ground so there can be storage underneath or like, to keep animals out or something? Is there just a large drop on the other side?
The setting is probably either Alaska or somewhere in Canada on similar latitudes, which means the reason the door is about 6+ feet off the ground is ver simple: snow drifts.
Otherwise, see, the door would be buried in winter.
My papa (grandad on my mom’s side) grew up in Alaska way back when, and the houses (shacks really, or very poorly built cottages) were all on stilts for this very reason. In fact, the walkways through town were all boards on stilts, as well, for the same reason. Not like nice boardwalks, either; these were a poor settlements far away from everywhere, so the walkways were literally just two inch by six inch boards, maybe one board leading to and from each house, and three boards together for the main streets, on rickety-ass stilts. Not even nailed down, some of em, since nails were expensive and tended to rust. Not all villages had these. My papa’s was a fishing village on the coast where there was less snow in the winter, so they simply had the houses built a few feet off the ground and had little ramps or stairs up to the door. The places that needed the boards were places where the snow was likely to be fresh (not tamped down, so that you might fall through it) or else icey and slippery, I believe.
You can see these weird-looking stilt villages in old pictures, if you know where to find ’em online.
I’ve always wanted to hug St. Tony lost in the wilderness, or at least make him some tea and tuck him under a blanket. Whatever he would let me do without growling defensively.
P.S. Loving this ongoing hermit theme! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Anthony_Abbot…
These hermits are almost all pretty much spitting images of Monty Python’s conception of God* and I’m all in for it.
*Minus the gaudy crown.
Hermits are the best kinds of men.
Mallory, your mind is so strange and wonderful, I love it/this.
These are basically all of my feelings about Hermit Jesus Edition Luke Skywalker. Sorrynotsorry.
YES! Thank you.
I also harbor a deep and abiding love for hermit Ben Kenobi. And possibly Yoda, though in a much less sexual way than the other two.
Notsorryatall.
SERIOUSLY. After Han got done explaining why they hadn’t seen him in a while, I leaned over to my husband and whispered, “Sooo … Luke Skywalker’s a big fat quitter?”
He was not amused.
Haha, yeah, the Skywalker men are not exactly paragons of quality decision making. But I still want to give that grumpy old hermit a good cuddle.
I was thinking the Skywalker Whining Gene might be X-linked recessive, but that wouldn’t explain how Luke got it. Does that gene also cause a certain…lack of foresight, do you think?
Has anyone painted these grumpy saints as actual dogs on like Tumblr because I would be into that.
Ah. So that explains why Mallory has an old, grumpy-looking dog with particularly luxurious ears.
Does anyone know what the deal is with the nice man and his shoes in #3?
Each one of these could easily describe my relationship with my cat. So many forcible snuggles.
I wander around art museums playing ‘name the saint’ — and I immediately went “oh, St. Simoen Stylite,” but then I looked and there was a St. Luke Stylite too. Well played, Mallory. And I never realized how these hermits are like grumpy, disapproving bunnies. Which are here, if you want to see them: http://www.disapprovingbun.com
My favorite museum fame is called “Spot the Judas”. He is so much fun to pick out of the whole group of Apostles.
Mine is not actually of my own invention, but a friend’s. It’s called “God or Zeus?” It’s harder than it seems.
*game, sorry.
OH Mallory! You amazing, erudite hilarious weirdo! You light up my day with arcane humor. Huggles to you, the fusty hermit of my heart.
I have to say, that’s the most impressive beard I’ve yet seen on a depiction of St. Onuphrius.
I like how the last one looks like someone was telling the artist about perspective, and he yelled “Wow! That’s awesome! I’m gonna use that all the time!” and ran off to start painting before they got to the part where you’re supposed to use the same perspective for, say, both sides of the same object.
Ok I am almost there but I bet they smell really bad tho is the thing
I’ve loved so many an article since the dawn of the Toast…and I love this the BEST. I am one of these hermits with a stoic face and a walled-off heart, like the Siberian lady, but that doesn’t mean I don’t long for hugs. It feels very good to know some want to attempt snuggles with my ilk and–even better!–my favorite internet writer is included in that group.
No Mallory, you can’t bring that into the house. Remember a hermit is for life, not just for cuddling (also, no longer technically a hermit once he cohabits.)
And as you self-appointed internet mum for the day, I felt I had to check in to make sure you’re fully aware of the whole…personal hygiene aspect of hermitdom? Because up close, that (suspiciously tan) beard waterfall might smell and feel more like a slow-oozing stream of unspeakableness. God knows when that foliage diaper got washed last…hang on, can you actually even wash foliage?
That does it. I’m staging a saint snuggling intervention.
Even as I was laughing, I was thinking, "They must smell terrible and I don't want to touch them."
OK I have to share this article I just discovered a few minutes ago about the desert mothers:
http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-rebel-vi…
So. Darn. Cool.
Mallory, you are now Bubbles. Only with more saints, and fewer f-bombs.