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José Guadalupe Posada (2 February 1852 – 20 January 1913) was a Mexican engraver, illustrator and artist whose work has influenced many Latin American artists and cartoonists due to its satirical acuteness and political engagement.

As a young teenager he went to work in the workshop of Trinidad Pedroso, who taught him lithography and engraving. In 1871, before he was out of his teens, his career began with a job as the political cartoonist for a local newspaper in Aguascalientes, El Jicote (”The Bumblebee”). After 11 issues the newspaper closed, reputedly because one of Posada’s cartoons had offended a powerful local politician.

He later moved to Mexico City, there he joined the staff of a publishing firm owned by Antonio Vanegas Arroyo and while at this firm he created a prolific number of book covers and illustrations. Much of his work was also published in sensationalistic broadsides depicting various current events. Posada’s best known works are his calaveras, which often assume various costumes, such as the Calavera de la Catrina, the “Calavera of the Female Dandy”, which was meant to satirize the life of the upper classes during the reign of Porfirio Díaz.

Most of his imagery was meant to make a religious or satirical point. Since his death, however, his images have become associated with the Mexican holiday Día de los Muertos, the “Day of the Dead”.

Largely forgotten by the end of his life, Posada’s engravings were brought to a wider audience in the 1920s by the French artist Jean Charlot, who encountered them while visiting Diego Rivera. While Posada died in poverty, his images are well known today as examples of folk art. The muralist José Clemente Orozco knew Posada when he was young, and credited Posada’s work as an influence on his own.

My left eye hurts, it is slightly sore especially when I try to sleep, like having a constant squint in one eye. This came about because I have of late but wherefore I know not declared open season on my silly awkward looking body, trying to have sex as many times as I possibly can with as many different peoples as is possible. Sooo that would be once a month, missionary (for ten minutes max, twenty if drugs are involved), with the very hairy forty year old boss lady from my work place then, she looks like Kate Moss in the dark and I think this is what I like about her. For some reason whenever I am with her the phrase “Look at her, look at her, she’s beautiful, doesn’t speak a word of English. You marvellous creature.” springs to mind as I playfully tickle the delightful patch of hair that she seems to have cultivated just above the valley of her wonderful bottom, it’s just so new and primal (of course she speaks English very well and I am now after having written this definitely in her bad books and work is going to be a little frosty but more of that later). Due to the magnetism of this woman’s sex I am often not able to give my special ten minute full bang and sometimes, sometimes mistakes happen.

After I had ejaculated fully into my own wide open gasping eye, it took me a couple of surprised seconds to realise that I wasn’t some poor malnourished girl or pot-bellied rent boy in a back alley somewhere in Salford receiving the congratulations of a job well done. No I wasn’t, I was me and due to freakish levels of propulsion (as opposed to dribbling pathetically into a sock as is the norm) traumatising as my own sperm is I should thank heaven for the small mercy that I had violated only myself and not been violated to. My left eye remained redder than usual for two days or so (which I think means I need to eat more asparagus or something) but the pain has thankfully subsided.

I think I might have whimpered because she exclaimed,

“Oh my God! Are you okay?! What happened?!”

“I just came into my own eye.”

She laughed a hollow laugh, rather cynically I thought, so unnecessary, and went to sleep. I rolled over hugged myself and found that I couldn’t, bloody asparagus.

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