#Johnson Publishing

[goshyesvintageads]

Fashion Fair Cosmetics, 1990

[extraordinary-heroes]

Jetfire by Daniel Warren Johnson

[tinkerbitch69]

Just saw a headline about Boris Johnson’s memoir being a commercial flop and like this is so funny to me because one of my uni lecturers was just talking about few weeks ago about how she works for the publisher that produced it. She claimed that ‘most people’ there didn’t actually want to publish it buuuuuuuuuuut it would make a lot of money so they published to “fund the books they actually want to publish”

LOL

LMAO, even.

This is what you get for compromising your political and moral principles for capital. Stay losing, liberals! We love to see it. 😊

[uwmspeccoll]

It's Fine Press Friday!

Today's book includes text from an old English folk song with prints by Polly B. Johnson of the Press of the Unseen Unicorn in San Antonio, Texas entitled The Fox. The Fox is a traditional English folk song, the earliest versions of which are from the 15th century and written in Middle English. It is number 131 in the Roud Song Index. This song has also been used and modified throughout the modern age, and has been covered by popular musicians and groups from 1950s to today.

The story is about a fox that goes into a town to terrorize the people and animals living there, while also gathering food for his family living outside the town limits. As the fox goes back to his family, the children exclaim about how wonderful the food he has gathered from the town is, and request that he go back frequently for more exploits.

The Fox was printed with hand-set Masterman type using a Golding Pearl Letterpress on Teton Text Paper, except for the black paper, which is Canson Mi Teintes paper, in an edition of 50 copies. The prints were made using linoleum, wood, and torn chipboard. The cover is made of a rough woven cloth and includes a bone that was boiled, washed, and soaked in Clorox, and dipped in shellac. Our copy is another gift from the estate of our late friend Dennis Bayuzick.

View another book by Polly B. Johnson.

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick.

View more Fine Press Friday Posts.

– Sarah S., Special Collections Graduate Intern

[forever70s]

John H. Johnson, founder and original owner / publisher of Ebony magazine (1974)

[coulsons-left-arm]

I had a brain worm, and then not even halfway through writing it I realized a bit of information wasn't canon, but... Who cares at this point. I just needed to write it. [Spoilers for season 5 below the cut, angst, emotional hurt/some comfort, major character death]

May calls Daisy with the news that he finally passed. It feels like the air gets sucked out of the room, and she can't breathe. Mack overhears the phone call and tells her to go be with May, but Daisy can't. Their mission is too important, and she can't leave the team high and dry… but Mack insists she needs to go. With the hysterical state she's in, she's going to be useless… 

So she goes. But not before the team sends her off, getting hugs from everyone, and Jemma telling her to give May the team's love.

Daisy shows up, and immediately breaks down, May rushing to hold her in her arms. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours, she's not even sure. All she knows is May is a sturdy frame for her to cry into and curl around.

His body is covered under a white sheet. She wants to see, but at the same time she doesn't want that to be the last thing she sees of him… yeah, maybe it's for the best. She lays a hand where she assumes his chest is, giving a moment of silence. No tears this time. Just silence. And May’s hand holds her free hand. After an ample amount of time, May eventually guides her away.

He was cremated (“He said he already had a grave I desecrated, so he wanted to try being dead a different way this time,” May explained with a small scoff), his ashes put into a bag and inside of a small wooden box. Where were they gonna spread him? He had given a few suggestions before he passed. The beach, his old grave, somewhere at the Lighthouse, really anywhere. It sounded like he didn't mind where.

So May decided some on the beaches of Tahiti, and the rest at the Lighthouse, the team's newest home. 

They waited until sunset. The colors in the sky and on the water were beautiful. They were near where he took his last breath: on the lounge chair in the sand under a nice canopy. They set his little wooden box on the chair while facing the ocean. Daisy could stop the constant flow of tears. She grabbed and interlaced her fingers with May. May squeezed her hand. 

May spoke, words just above the sound of the light breeze traveling through the fresh, salty air. Spoke about all the missions they had together, how she wishes they had more time, how she hopes he rests easy on the other side. She was quiet, stoic. How was she not breaking?

Daisy on the other hand was a blubbering mess. Barely getting a word out in edgewise over her tears, she told him how much he meant to her, how he's the closest thing to family she had and she lost him. May squeezed her hand again before letting go and wrapping an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her into her side. Daisy curled into May's chest while almost incoherent words still spilled out. Something about how she's still so mad at him for not telling the team, and how they could've saved him and had more time with him, and how maybe… maybe it isn't too late and they'll find a hail Mary somewhere, somehow… Daisy was quiet for a moment, turning around in May's chest (still holding onto her for dear life though), facing the little wooden box. She said her last, “I love you,” to him, making it one of a pair of times she actually vocalized it. No actions. Just words, for once. May did the same, making Daisy's breath hitch. She knew – not to a full extent, but enough – how much he meant to the older agent, having gone through the academy at the same time, and participating in many missions over the years, including Bahrain.

Their words hung in the air as the sun was barely visible above the horizon. May made the first move, untangling herself from Daisy. She picked up the box, taking out the plastic bag with the remains of their beloved Director. Opening it made a bit of dust poof out, like he was ready to go and be free on the winds of the beach. May walked towards the water. She took a small handful of him in her right palm, holding it for a moment, before letting it go gracefully. The dust flew in the air, a little part of him mixing with the sand and the ocean and the breeze. She knelt and brought her same palm to the sand, holding a moment of silence. The older agent got back up, and returned to Daisy, gingerly handing her the box with the open bag.

Daisy took it and walked to the spot where May went. She repeated what she saw, but in a more tearful and snotty way. Holding the box close, she grabbed a small handful of ashes in her left hand. Tears dropped to the sand.

“I guess this is goodbye for real now,” she somberly choked, her voice cracking looking at her cupped hand. “I started missing you when you walked off the Zephyr –no, even before that. Back when Jemma told us. But this feels <em>final</em>. And I think I may miss you more after this than right now.” Daisy brought her closed fist of ashes to her lips, letting them rest on her knuckles. “You were the closest thing I had to a real father, and I'll never forget that. Thank you.” She shut her eyes hard, heavy tears falling down her cheeks and onto her knuckles. Bringing her fist out in front of her, she let him go, letting him float on the wind and be one with the beautiful, serene environment. 

Daisy knelt down and flattened her palm on the sand, feeling the mixture of ash and sand. She gave herself a moment to grieve, to actually stop and feel the loss deep in her bones. A gut wrenching sob left her body. It was loud and pitiful. The little wooden box made its way safely to the sand, spilling no more remains. Tears were actively streaming down in a gushing waterfall almost as if she could add to the ocean. It was like her heart was splitting into two, and then being smashed into a million more pieces. Her cries kept coming, a convulsive gasp the only thing filling her lungs between the painful wailing.

She's not sure when, but a hand started rubbing lines up and down her back. 

<em>Not all was lost.</em> 

Though it may have felt like it, the sentiment seemed to calm something in her. It felt like it was something that Coulson would say on the other side of things. 

<em>You still have May.</em>

The thought was enough to help her catch her breath and uncrumple her practically prostrate form. Through her watery vision, she could see the sun was missing from the horizon, a tiny nip in the air chilling her bones. Her body trembled. She should probably leave.

The hand left it’s comforting spot on her back and was replaced by an arm hooking itself around the front of her chest, pulling her up to her feet like it knew she should be going. 

Daisy was exhausted. She stood motionless as the waves lapped at the shoreline. The little wooden box was placed in her right hand, closed and sealed up.

<em>May.</em>

She was now on the left side of her, slipping her hand into hers and intertwining their fingers into a mess. Her right hand in Daisy’s left, both hands having remnants of the sand and ash. The rough texture was something to focus on other than her tears and the fatigue starting to overtake her from the depths of her soul. 

“Let's bring him back home,” May whispered with a squeeze. Daisy nodded.

He needed to be home.

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

Quick question:

Even though I was born in America, would the fact that one of my grandmothers was Canadian mean that technically speaking, I'm a third generation immigrant?

Since my Grandma "N" was Canadian, that means my mother is Canadian-American, so I'm part Canadian... Right? A negligible amount because I'm still American, but still worth acknowledgement in heritage, right? 🤔

Just curious about the terminology there.

[carlsample8]

Peter Green's OTHER Les Paul Sunburst- circa '79- early 80s, given to him by Mick Fleetwood.

[oflights]

Marshlands

A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim, And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim.

The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, Glint through their mildews like large cups of gold.

Among the wild rice in the still lagoon, In monotone the lizard shrills his tune.

The wild goose, homing, seeks a sheltering, Where rushes grow, and oozing lichens cling.

Late cranes with heavy wing, and lazy flight, Sail up the silence with the nearing night.

And like a spirit, swathed in some soft veil, Steals twilight and its shadows o’er the swale.

Hushed lie the sedges, and the vapours creep, Thick, grey and humid, while the marshes sleep.

Emily Pauline Johnson

[viaov]

Staz Johnson, Princess Leia(s), “A Princess Escapes!”

[womansfilm]

The stars can change in their courses the universe go up in flames & the world crash around us but there will always b celia johnsons big eyes emoting at 800mph 🖤

[extraordinary-heroes]

TMNT/Stranger Things #01 (Cover art by Daniel Warren Johnson)

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Various Authors - From The President's council on physical fitness: Official exercise plan for women - Parallax Publishing and Pocket Library - 1966

[graphicpolicy]

Mini Reviews: Phoenix, Witchblade, The Rocketeer Breaks Free, Biker Mice From Mars, and the Powerpuff Girls!

Mini Reviews: Phoenix, Witchblade, The Rocketeer Breaks Free, Biker Mice From Mars, and the Powerpuff Girls!. 5 debuts this week! #comics #comicbooks

Sometimes, the staff at Graphic Policy read more comics than we’re able to get reviewed. When that happens you’ll see a weekly feature compiling reviews of the comics, or graphic novels, we just didn’t get a chance to write a full one for. These are Graphic Policy’s Mini Reviews and Recommendations. Logan Phoenix #1 (Marvel) – Stephanie Phillips, Alessandro Miracolo, and David Curiel showcase…

[fazcinatingblog]

It's truly amazing that Olivia Rodrigo was just one of us, a diehard fan of the pepperwood chronicles, and now she's touring the world on a sold out stadium tour???