The Comics Curmudgeon

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Bein’ a gangsta ain’t no fun (nor is it funny)

Curtis, 6/12/05

We’ve of course seen plenty of egregiously unhip fake “rapper” names used in Curtis, but I believe this is the first instance of egregiously unhip fake “rap” lyrics. Let’s take a moment to savor them, shall we?

Den ah snuffed ‘im!
I snuffed ‘im! Woo!
He looked at me wrong,
so ah snuffed ‘im!

Yeah! Woo! I put quotation marks around “rap,” of course, as an homage to Curtis’ tendency to put quotation marks around “rap,” along with almost anything else, including, in this strip, “complaints” and “Bullet-Wound’s” (and what’s with the hyphen? Is he an 18th century rapper or something?). Bizarrely, the word “spanker” in panel four is left unquoted.

The question that really gets me in this strip, though, is: how old is Barry supposed to be, anyway? I mean, Curtis may be about three years too young to be listening to the ultraviolent stylings of Bullet-Wound and Fortyounce and what have you, but I have Barry pegged at about three years too old to be shouting “yay” at the choo-choos and the teddy bear town and all that sugary crap. And incidentally, the top two panels of this strip were cut off by my paper, so I was severely traumatized when I downloaded this strip and actually saw Charlie Chipmunk in the flesh. If I had a little brother who insisted on watching this, I might have a very strong urge to, well, snuff ‘im.

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 12, 2005 at 10:20 pm and is filed under Curtis.

210 responses to “Bein’ a gangsta ain’t no fun (nor is it funny)”

Bill Peschel
June 12th, 2005 at 10:30 pm [Reply]

But, you see, Ray’s drawing a connection between “rap” videos and violence, although I was pretty disturbed by Barry’s tendency to beat himself up.

It’ll be razors next.

And, yeah, Charlie Chipmonk’s pretty creepy, with his chipmunk cranium and human jawbone. That’s some weird mama-jamma cosplay going on there.
Incident
June 12th, 2005 at 11:08 pm [Reply]

It’s “The Proud Family” crossed with “Fight Club” as directed by Terry Gilliam.
Adam-12
June 12th, 2005 at 11:11 pm [Reply]

Maybe sewing costumes for TV characters was one of the jobs Rita got fired from. But it’s obviously a very low-budget show. Look at the flower vase behind Charlie Chipmunk in the first panel. All they could afford was a cardboard cut-out of a vase and flowers. Even Krusty has better props.
TMC
June 12th, 2005 at 11:31 pm [Reply]

This animation of violence in this comic makes professional wrestling look real. They’re not even touching each other, but we see lots of “thump” “ow” and “scuffle” all over the panel. Maybe Barry had a violent seizure.
PizzaBagel
June 12th, 2005 at 11:32 pm [Reply]

Is this what infantile Barry is learning from Charlie Chipmunk & Co. – how to persuade your gullible mother into believing that your older bro’ is beating you up?

The little guy is apparently brainwashed by this pap, as evidenced by his repeating the on-air encouragements in panels two and three. (YEAH!! YEAHHH! YAY!! YAY!!)
Mibbitmaker
June 13th, 2005 at 12:20 am [Reply]

Take a look at the exposed human portion of the kiddie “show” “host”… just let’s say, we now know what Jon-from-Garfield’s real day job is!
yellojkt
June 13th, 2005 at 5:09 am [Reply]

If Barry had been watching Mega-Robo-Turtles(tm), that would have been right on the mark.
Frank Drackman
June 13th, 2005 at 5:44 am [Reply]

My Paper also cut off the first few panels featuring Charlie Chipmunk. Imagination is great,but nothing to compare with the horror of the real Charlie Chipmunk.
Charles
June 13th, 2005 at 5:57 am [Reply]

The lyrics sorta reminds me of the theme song for “The Dogfather” cartoons. If you want to see my point, email me and I will email you a wav file for it.
Charles
June 13th, 2005 at 5:58 am [Reply]

Hmmm…my email address arn’t clickable after I fill it in the box. So here it is

cbrubaker@gmail.com
Editrix
June 13th, 2005 at 7:01 am [Reply]

I’m a little disappointed in Curtis’s lack of quotation continuity. Shouldn’t he have said:

“I want to see the “‘Rap’” City Video Smackdown”!

?
dalton
June 13th, 2005 at 7:12 am [Reply]

Is “spanker” even a real word? I think we have another case of made-up “lingo” used by the “kids” these days.
johnwhorfin
June 13th, 2005 at 8:40 am [Reply]

Not exactly on point, but my local morning paper just increased its comics coverage to 2 1/2 pages. I am composing a letter of praise to send to the features editor for this boon, and copying it to the Detroit News to hopefully improve their coverage. We still do not receive Apt. 3G in either paper, nor do we get The Phantom. If anyone needs another comic link, here’s the Freep’s comics index:
Freep comics index
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 8:42 am [Reply]

Not to change the subject, but Josh has some SERIOUS competition.

Check out

http://www.comicspage.com/comicspage/main.jsp?file=20050610csbsr-a-p.jpg&refresh_content=1&component_id=3&catid=1147&dir=%2Fbrendastarr

Too cool for the Comix.
Anne Nonymous
June 13th, 2005 at 8:43 am [Reply]

Woo hoo, Isla-Grrl, you made COTW! Way to go!
yellojkt
June 13th, 2005 at 8:46 am [Reply]

“Spanker” definitely sounds like what a rap song should not be. Maybe Curtis is getting the Spice Channel-Players Edition unscrambled instead. I’m sure they have some “spankers” on that.

Our just mix Charlie and Rap City and spank your chipmunk.

And speaking of odd anachronistic slang, Barry is watching a little too much Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Hour if he is calling Curtis a “stinker.”
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:00 am [Reply]

And we have found some help for Ritazilla.

Check out

http://www.livejournal.com/community/vintage_ads/88173.html

I bet some or even all could help Rita down the right path.
laska
June 13th, 2005 at 9:14 am [Reply]

Zipper- Why didn’t you tell us that Rita was staying with you before she went to Mary’s house? When she opened her suitcase and I saw the blue bottle of gin in there, it was a dead giveaway. Then for her to present it to Mary today- now she’s not only a drunk, she’s trafficking in stolen goods!
Phantom- What is with that girl’s upper lip?
DTGT- If that girl is “almost, like, a prodigy” on the french horn, whats-his-name next to her is almost, like, a prodigy in killa slang.
Monkeys Uncle
June 13th, 2005 at 9:48 am [Reply]

Congrats I-girl! Buckle up that electric blue bustier and strut with pride. Of course we didnt need to see that COTW to know how funny you are. You can have a perpetual COTW in my opinion.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 10:33 am [Reply]

All hail Queen Isla!

COTW and a declaration of fluffytufts’ undying love hopefully takes the edge off of that champagne hangover, I hope!
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 10:44 am [Reply]

Great Comix Anonymous piece in the other thread, yellojkt…

My name is J.Po, and I’m an Eddaholic™…
Anne Nonymous
June 13th, 2005 at 10:49 am [Reply]

Re: Mark Trail, who gets the props for having predicted, lo those many, many weeks ago, that the insurance guy, Bob Crane-of-the-Pom-Pom, was a crooked agent intent on stealing the jewelled collar, himself? I can’t remember now who it was- fess up and take your bows.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 11:01 am [Reply]

I believe I may have offered up the agent-committing-insurance fraud angle, Anne…can’t remember the exact hypothesis, as I was being chased by giant mutant magpies at the time!
Anne Nonymous
June 13th, 2005 at 11:04 am [Reply]

Kudos, then, Po. I can’t wait to see Mark finally figure this out and punch Crane so hard that his pom-pom flies off his ridiculous hat.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 11:13 am [Reply]

Whereupon giant raccoons will descend upon the semi-conscious form of Col. Hogan, rifling through his pockets for chewing gum.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 11:29 am [Reply]

And finally, Andy, the dog with the 10-ton head, will gleefully chomp the heads off the giant raccoons for a little snack.
Monkeys Uncle
June 13th, 2005 at 11:56 am [Reply]

Before Mark gets a chance to pull out the patented right cross, Bob Crane will make the fatal mistake of trying to pin the theft of this collar on the drunken old woodsmen who is conviently just now returning from his temp job at the lumber camp. You heard it here first.
fluffytufts
June 13th, 2005 at 12:14 pm [Reply]

re #21 – Hi J.Po. Have a panel of Nancy.
Islamorada "Swollen Ego" Girl
June 13th, 2005 at 12:16 pm [Reply]

Josh likes me! He really,really likes me!
Or at least my smart mouth. . Whoo Hoo! More champagne!
Islamorada Girl
June 13th, 2005 at 12:26 pm [Reply]

Josh got a shout out on Medium Large. Way to insert secret messages, Ces!
SugarFemme23
June 13th, 2005 at 12:38 pm [Reply]

You know the first sign of psycopathy is the lack of guilt when hurting others. Does anyone else see tortured kittens in the little brothers future?
Flasshe
June 13th, 2005 at 12:40 pm [Reply]

Congrats on the CotW, I-Girl!

Check this article out. When reading it, I at first thought you had gotten into some trouble with your sword. But then I realized there was no mention of an electic blue bustier, so it couldn’t have been you. Whew!
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 1:01 pm [Reply]

Way to go I-girl on COTW!

Would you like some iced tea?

MMMWAHAAHAAAHAAAA
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 1:07 pm [Reply]

Congrats, I-Girl – nothing gives me greater pleasure than to turn the trophy over to someone in an electric blue metal bustier.

Well, ALMOST nothing.
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 1:14 pm [Reply]

B.C.

DEATH (and/or being taken up in the rapture like….today!) to Johnny Hart.
http://www.chron.com/content/chronicle/comics/archive/showComic.mpl?date=2005/6/13&name=BC

Those aren’t nursery rhymes. Those are fairy tales, you reactionary imbecile.

FAIRY TALES kind of like, oh, golly, I don’t know….

giant, floating menageries; talking, burning shrubberies and yummy, nutritious fruit that also imparts the knowledge of good and evil.
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 1:19 pm [Reply]

Mallard Fillmore:

Oh, look, an Homage to B.C. – isn’t it cute when uberConservative cartoon nutcases swap santorum?

http://www.chron.com/content/chronicle/comics/archive/showComick.mpl?date=20050613&name=Mallard_Fillmore

Of course, if this was an early right-wingnut caveman like B.C. he’d be saying “Wow! The bones of some giant reptile that never existed but was instead put here by an omniscient, vengeful yet loving God to test our faith and torment our skool boards.”
Adouble -- the newest spanker
June 13th, 2005 at 1:24 pm [Reply]

I think Curtis is a hero on par with Sisyphus. He tries day in and day out to make Barry less soft, but Barry never changes. Barry is so soft that Snuggles the Bear would make him a “biyatch”. Curtis knows the mean streets, and knows that Barry is going to have to get a whole lot more raw if he is going to survive. When Tre Loc and Lord Murdersworth start yoking him next year, the only way Barry is getting help from Charlie Chipmunk is if he carved down his Charlie Chipmunk bobble head doll into vibratinng shiv.

Oh and don’t sleep on Snuggles. One time Rayray from 34th street confused Snugs with the Pillsbury Doughboy. Snuggles didn’t make a cute noise when Rayray poked his stomach. And Rayray just made a think gurgling sound when Snuggles knifed his stomach three times. Respect!
Rush Limbo
June 13th, 2005 at 1:56 pm [Reply]

Nothing to do with comics, but can you believe it?

Here we go again. Another freakin’ California jury whose collective IQ = 1/2 of their collective shoe size. I smell a(NOTHER) acquittal.
Wren Wah
June 13th, 2005 at 3:10 pm [Reply]

The French Horn?
OK, my initial reaction was WTF. Then I realized where this little subplot is gong. Brent Dog will finally be able to stop the pretense that he is a black man trapped in a white pudgy body. He will be able to declare his love for the oboe, secure that Mandyâ€™s passion for the equally archaic french horn will preclude her from shunning him as the freak that he is. Instead they will recognize in each other the kindred spirit that will free them from the yoke conformity. They will flee the â€œpoorly drawn hell on earthâ€ arm-in-arm to venture out to the big city. Once there they will become accompanists for a certain ballet troop that features a lithe 18-year-old dancer and her muscular gay roommate. Suddenly they will be drawn consistently and with artistic flair. They will have real personalities, dreams and a future.
God speed Brent and Mandyâ€¦just donâ€™t look back.
Adam-12
June 13th, 2005 at 3:16 pm [Reply]

Miss Islamorada, a belated kudos on the COTW!

Fluffytufts, RE # 28: just better hope that “Nancy” panel doesn’t have Aunt Fritzi in it, or a recovering Eddaluster will have a whole new problem.

Last panel in Gil Thorp: “The Don” has made a guest appearence in Mil*ford (though he’s put on a little weight); hopefully he’s there to say “you’re ALL fired!”

A3G: Margo hopes the Scott Gaines conversation is “finished?” Did it ever start? Come on, Luann and Tommie, just kill Margo now and be done with it.

I’d also like to nominate Pearls Before Swine for “Best Use of a Toilet in a Comic Strip.”
Matt Estes
June 13th, 2005 at 3:35 pm [Reply]

I can’t in a million years imagine a rapper saying “den ah snuffed ‘im”. However, it does sound like something Snuffy Smith might say.
yellojkt
June 13th, 2005 at 3:44 pm [Reply]

PBS has officially run out of steam. A “reading room” so large it has its own librarian is a gag I cannot imagine being sucessfully pulled off, and Pastis has proven me right. What in Rat’s history has prepared us for his love of literature while sitting on the Thunderbowl? Waaay too big a stretch for too little payoff.
yellojkt
June 13th, 2005 at 4:01 pm [Reply]

It seems Mil-ford has a band. I guess the jocks need someone to give swirlies to.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 4:21 pm [Reply]

re #28: Tufts, that’s a little severe, don’t ya think?

But if the alternative is an Intervention with Mary Worth, just call me Sluggo, bud!
Anne Nonymous
June 13th, 2005 at 4:43 pm [Reply]

yello- PBS jumps the shark every damned time it does the “dumb crocs want to eat the zebra neighbor” gag. Sometimes, it’s very funny, and sometimes, it just fails. At least today’s strip was different. Kind of cute, but out of left field, as you suggest.
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 4:52 pm [Reply]

Judge Parker narrative: “Hernan Segundo and his crony find bug repellent along the trail!”

Hmmph! Bug find them repellent, too!

Next week on JP: “Throw me the idol, I throw you the wheep.”
Flasshe
June 13th, 2005 at 4:59 pm [Reply]

Say what you want about Rita – I think she’s got the right idea: encouraging Mary to go on an alcoholic binge. Maybe a wild drunken weekend is just what the old meddling biddy needs in order to quit with the platitudes. More memory blackouts, mule!
yellojkt
June 13th, 2005 at 5:11 pm [Reply]

Because nothing in a jungle could possibly smell stronger than bug repellent. I think Patron is really Ferret from Static Shock.

Here’s a guy who can’t remember to fill the plane’s fuel tank but now he’s Pitfall Harry.
Mary the Sarcastic Meddler
June 13th, 2005 at 5:14 pm [Reply]

“Gee Rita, thanks for the empty scotch bottle, but recycling isn’t until Thursday.”
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 5:35 pm [Reply]

Oh My Mary! How did that happen?

More lost weekends Mule!
Rush Limbo
June 13th, 2005 at 5:36 pm [Reply]

Told ya’.
Jeanne
June 13th, 2005 at 5:48 pm [Reply]

Didn’t have to tell me, Rush. I knew he’d get off, too. I guess in more ways than one
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 6:01 pm [Reply]

Yes Jeanne, let that be a lesson to us all: if you want to murder your wife or molest young boys, move to California. How embarrassing for that state, IMHO.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 6:20 pm [Reply]

Back to the Comics! I researched and it was April 7 when Pusboy asked June to mail the letter to his Mom…………………
Maybe if she had taken a respite from neglecting widdle Sara and hubby Rex (which takes SO much of her time), she could’ve mailed the friggin’ letter and saved Pusboy from his current life-threatening condition? just thinkin’
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 6:55 pm [Reply]

A thought: while Pus-Boy was clinging to life, wouldn’t ya think that it was a severe enough emergency to give June reason to OPEN the freakin’ letter?

This tune, for some reason, came to me during cocktail hour…could very well become the College fight song…name the artist, Cardinals!

I’m drinkin’ hearbreak motor oil, Bombay Gin
I’ll sleep when I’m dead
Straight from the bottle, twisted again
I’ll sleep when I’m dead

Or we could substitute “Iced Tea” for “Bombay Gin.” Who wants Iced Tea? I’m making Iced Tea! Anyone for refills? Iced Tea!
Flasshe
June 13th, 2005 at 6:58 pm [Reply]

We haven’t had firsts, J.Po.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 7:01 pm [Reply]

Get back in the shower, Tommie.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:14 pm [Reply]

Haven’t had firsts either J.Po. Did you drink the whole pitcher yourself? why you miserable ^*&#@, oops, wrong comic strip.
Islamorada Girl
June 13th, 2005 at 7:15 pm [Reply]

Flasshe! I was nowhere near Denver this weekend!
I have an airtight alibi and a foolproof plan!

And if they try me in California, I’ll walk out of that courtroom a free woman anyway.

However the headline “Deputies wound woman with sword”
is such a copy desk screw up that it’s hilarious. Sounds as if Chief Wiggum
and Gary and Roy came after Krazy Taser Lady with a saber.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:18 pm [Reply]

Ritzilla: Mary, will you accept my gift of this $15.00 bottle of rot-gut scotch in exchange for my living with you, rent free, forever?

Mary: hmmmm, let me think about it
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:22 pm [Reply]

there ya go I-girl! It wasn’t you with the sword – besides, you have Cardinal College immunity anyway….. we would make their lives a living hell if they even thought about prosecuting you

or, like you said, move to CA, ‘nuf said
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:26 pm [Reply]

let’s make a Card College Pact, anyone gets in trouble with da law,, move to CA, and give us your address, we will gladly move into your guest room and support you,, we will bring our empty bottles and our alpo cans (unopened)
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:37 pm [Reply]

not to mention
1) our Gangsta caps (that someone stole from Mario)

2) our marked cards (hey, we learned from the BEST)

3) that Pus-boy package that we copped from June Morgan’s cabinet (after we lured Abbey, the only smart one in the strip, away with beggin’strips)

4) the jeweled collar from Mark Trail, which we planted a “fake” there for Col. Hogan to find
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 7:40 pm [Reply]

No, didn’t drink the pitcher, much less a bottle of Bombay…just channeling Zevon again.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:50 pm [Reply]

way to go, guyster!
Oops, I meant, Brah!
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 7:57 pm [Reply]

OK, Islamorada Girl – what is your Nostradamus take on Pusboy/ RMMD?

My take is, widdle Sara is dead by now, but Abbey the dog is in day care! whoo hoo
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:00 pm [Reply]

and yours J.Po
when Pusboy’s Dad shows up, will they be all snuggly, kissy face chit? I don’t see it
but who knows? Nostradamus-take?
Islamorada Girl
June 13th, 2005 at 8:00 pm [Reply]

Poor Mandy! When high school athletics theocracy M*lf*rd discovers she’s more interested in music than softball, they’ll burn her in the town square for being a witch. And Gil Thorp will light the pyre! Death, death death to these dullard culturally illiterate red state slugs!
Islamorada Girl
June 13th, 2005 at 8:05 pm [Reply]

Pus Boy will reunite with Fity Cent, and together they will vanquish Peter Lorre Jockstrap when he holds Rex and June hostage at gunpoint while he searches their house for the Ancient Native American Maltese Falcon.
Of course, Abbey the Wonder Dog will make a special appearance, biting Jockstrap’s gun hand. Then peace and goodness will reign throughout the Kingdom of Morgan. And the longest denouement in the history of the world. I expect a wrap in late October.

Anybody else?
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:07 pm [Reply]

and da Chipster,, let’s hear it,,, we need your input, Pusboy Senior is showing up, oh my gawd
and queer Rex is gonna make it ok?
(sorry if reference offends anyone)

But daChipster knows, don’t ya?
(you know all of us females are in love with you, no offense to Mrs. C)
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:12 pm [Reply]

Ancient Native American Maltese Falcon? you are a genius I-Girl – yeah, I would say that would bring some bucks on E-bay
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 8:15 pm [Reply]

I think Buck and Fity-Cent will kiss and make up…after all, “HE’S A FOXWORTH!” I like Isla’s take on the rest of it…frankly, I just want to make sure Abbey hasn’t eaten widdle Sarah at this point. I’m going to go out on a limb and say this’ll wrap before Labor Day.
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 8:19 pm [Reply]

Yes, RBF, I promise I will stay on the uppermost thread for you, even though you love daChip and the cunning linguist. Someone has to labor on here in the catcombs of the College…
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:26 pm [Reply]

Hope you’re right J.Po – and frankly, I miss Abbey, the smartest one in the strip, in my humble opinion.

As far as dogs go (in the strips I read), she is so smart and so cute, vs. the creepy Monster 10-ton headed Andy in Mark Trail.
Although it wouldn’t suck to have him on your side in a fight – especially vs. wolves.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:42 pm [Reply]

Didn’t mean to accuse you J.Po of being a wolf, – just turned out that way on post,
course if the hoof fits,
J.Po
June 13th, 2005 at 8:45 pm [Reply]

Do woolves have hooves?
Lit'l Red Riding Hood
June 13th, 2005 at 8:47 pm [Reply]

IDA know
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:52 pm [Reply]

Never saw a wolf, never saw a hoof
just a city girl
never gave a hoot
never got a boot
just a city girl, never saw a wolf

(except for the stuffed one here in my puter room from my ex, who was a hunter)
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 8:58 pm [Reply]

kinda creepy, but kinda cool too
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:06 pm [Reply]

e.g., if someome creepy comes around, instead of bringing your gun to the door, just bring the howling wolf — the creepy person goes away, and you don’t go to jail for shooting the a-hole
(just kidding)
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:07 pm [Reply]

is this thing on?
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:16 pm [Reply]

Hey J.Po I have never killed a being larger than a mosquito.

I don’t want to get into the hunting/etc thing, just wanna be your Comics Cardinal Pal
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:20 pm [Reply]

Pus Boy wakes from a coma and asks, “What have I missed?”

Not much, since you have only been unconscious for about 6 hours give or take. Widdle Sarah is still choking down her bowl of Sugar Coated Frosted Bombs, Abbey is typing away at her PhD, June is primping in the back, and fity cent foxworth is winging his way here.

Arrrrrrrggggghhhhh, smack me with that fence post again, PLEASE!!!!!
Joe D.
June 13th, 2005 at 9:26 pm [Reply]

Back to Gil No-matter-what-anyone-else-says-I-hope-you-live-forever-in-that-superbly-drawn-paradise Thorp.

Now we know why Mandy Graham is bailing out on hard-hit grounders.

(You know I just did that to piss you all off, right?)
Incident
June 13th, 2005 at 9:31 pm [Reply]

Here’s a hint: Anyone who says “I’m, like, almost a prodigy” isn’t.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:35 pm [Reply]

dammmm I thought it’s been like two months!

Abbey has been in day care, but widdle Sara, –not–

fity cent Foxworth on the way, saying,
YOU CAN’T DIE, YOU’RE A FOXWORTH

and RMMD says,, “how much more interesting can this get?”

d’oh? Rex? what about your 35 patients, slowly and painfully dying in the hospital
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:39 pm [Reply]

Oops, dammmit June, why didn’t you remind me about them? I’ve kinda been obsessed with handsome stubbly pusboy — it’s YOUR fault, June!
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:40 pm [Reply]

Yes, but those 35 patients do not have HEALTH INSURANCE!!

There is nothing poor Rex can do.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:45 pm [Reply]

June: yeh, it’s always MY fault,, our widdle daughter Sara has died of dehydration,,, yeah, MY fault,, our smart dog Abbey, died of dehydration as well,,, dammit Rex, you’re a doctor, didn’t you KNOW they needed water?

Rex: how is Pusboy?
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:47 pm [Reply]

And, my god man, Pus Boy saved Rex a BUNDLE on his new fence. What did any of those other 35 do for him? They probably would have helped Fence Post Frank double his estimate.
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:54 pm [Reply]

WATER!!

That’s it!

Abbey was trying to tell us she wanted a bowl down from the cupboard for a drink of water. What else could she have been growling and barking her head off at the dishes. That or the ancient Indiana skull staring down at us from there.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 9:55 pm [Reply]

yep Pusboy saved him a Bundle on new fence! but now, Rex has to bury widdle Sara and Abbey,,,, Dayum
this kinda sucks economics-wise
Lor
June 13th, 2005 at 9:56 pm [Reply]

I like how Margo’s head-bobbing has crossed comix boundaries so now Rex is doing it too.

Nice tribute to Warren, J.Po, God rest his soul … I wonder, would Andy be a help against the werewolves?

I saw a werewolf drinkin’ a piÃ±a colada at Mil*ford Gil’s
His hair was … perfect?!
Aaaaooooooooo, werewolves of Mil*ford!
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 9:58 pm [Reply]

Indiana Skull? What, Pus Boy found Larry Bird’s Skull in the back yard? I meant to type Indian skull. I sure wish that there was an option to see it before I say it. That way youse guys would nots be subjected to my random acts of spelling and grammar (grammer?) Gramma?
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:00 pm [Reply]

and most states won’t let you bury your daughter in backyard —– omg, big bucks for Rex on poor neglected emaciated Sara, but let’s say a prayer for her, she is much better off dead
may she RIP
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:14 pm [Reply]

Lor, that was great -werewolves of Mi*****ford
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:16 pm [Reply]

random acts of grammar, etc – what happens here, stays here
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 10:19 pm [Reply]

The Morgans have been burying many things in their back yard: kids, old pets, Indian relics they no longer want, HEALTH INSURANCE FORMS, empty scotch bottle, and last but not least, plot lines that go on and on but really go nowhere.
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 10:19 pm [Reply]

What if Bob Crane got away? What if, as I previously supposed, he was never a claims adjuster for Acme Insurance in the first place? Or was he? (BTW, as near as I can determine, it was Peaches who first predicted Craneâ€™s nefarious intent.) What would happen?

I enjoyed our little exercise in noir last week so much, Iâ€™ve written a novella.

Red Bird Detective Agency Mysteries #1: My Best Collar

Chapter 1: Scotch on the wocks.

It was late on a Friday night. I was still at the Red Bird office, because my bookie, Nickie No-nose, thought he owned my apartment â€“ or at least the foyer, as two of his goons had taken up residence there. I had just cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of Glenmorangie, when someone rattled the outer office door.

Iâ€™d been ready to crawl into the bottle and pull the cork closed behind me, but a good case could help me settle up with Nickie, especially one off the books, one my partners didnâ€™t have to know about. I went and opened the door.

A short, balding man stood there, blinking myopically at me, his hand raised as if to knock. â€œOh, hewwo theah,â€ he rasped. â€œI had an appointment, but Iâ€™m wate. I so happy yowah stiww heah.â€

â€œYe- huh? Yeah, great, câ€™mon in.â€ I led him to my office. The bottle and glass were still waiting. I reached for a coffee cup and blew the dust out, and tipped the cup and bottle to him, civil-like. He declined. I sighed, and corked the bottle.

â€œWho was your appointment with?â€ I asked.

â€œNow what was his name? Itâ€™s swipped my mind. He was a man in a yewwow jacket.â€

Yep, one of my partners. Well, ya snooze, ya lose. â€œYes, he told me about your case Mrâ€¦.?â€

â€œWhite. Mel White of the Acme Insuwance Company. And you awre?â€

â€œDac. Dac Hipster, private investigator. Refresh me as to the details, there, Mr. White.â€

White told a tale of a plane crash, a jeweled dog collar, an insurance adjuster named Crane, who turned up dead, his Palm Pilot and laptop missing, and a phony Bob Crane, who got the drop on some local Grizzly Adams type and made off with the jewels.

Were I given to exposition, Iâ€™d tell it all, but my notes were a little sketchy and anywho, this ainâ€™t a comic strip. â€œWas there a dame involved?â€

â€œNot weawwy,â€ White said.

â€œThereâ€™s always a dame,â€ I intoned in my world-weary gumshoe voice.

â€œWew, there was Mark Twailâ€™s wife. And the actwess, of couwse. But we donâ€™t want to invowve hewr. We want the diamonds back nice and quiet. Wiabiwity, you see.â€

I saw, alwight. I saw dollar signs. â€œWhatâ€™s the dingus worth?â€

â€œOh, consewvativewy, a quawtew of a miwion dowwars.â€

â€œHmm, well, my fee on this is $400 a day, plus expenses. $2000 up front.â€

â€œThatâ€™s vewwy weasonable. Who should I make the check out too?â€

â€œOh, just leave it blank. Weâ€™ve got a stamp for that.â€

I took the check and a couple of addresses from Mr. White, then showed him to the door.

I was relieved, first of all because I was going to be able to lay some vig down on Nickie and get back in my place, but even more so because the â€œWâ€ key on my keyboard was wearing out.

NEXT: On the twail â€“ DAMN â€“ trail.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:20 pm [Reply]

Nom, I remember Larry Bird too,, good for us
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:25 pm [Reply]

Spewing expensive scotch all over the monitor again,,, thanks to daChipster,, dayum you are too funny, but you gotta reimburse me on scotch bill:
RBF: May I move in with you and Mrs. C? I will bring an empty bottle and 2 unopened cans of Alpo
Nom du Jour
June 13th, 2005 at 10:26 pm [Reply]

There once was a commentor, Nom
whose comments usually bordered on dum.
He’d type and hed tipe
’til the Abbey would Yipe
“youse gots to learns that english some.”
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 10:31 pm [Reply]

RBF – you are always welcome, but wait – you show up in chapter 5.

P.S. Right back atcha, Mrs. C not withstanding.
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:35 pm [Reply]

There was a commentor, Nom
whose comments were pretty much Yum
he typed and we typed
but he pretty much hyped
anything that I thought , yeh Hum!
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:38 pm [Reply]

oh my gawd, now I have to wait for the Mr. and Mrs. chipsters? ok , it’s worth it
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:40 pm [Reply]

no one should feel intimidated here on Josh’s site, trust me, we are all in it together
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:45 pm [Reply]

if you have anything to say, just DO it
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:48 pm [Reply]

it feels good, no one knows who you are
we’re mostly talking just the comics, nothing serious
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 10:57 pm [Reply]

hey fello Cards, including Nom and JPo.,,, is this thing on?
daChipster
June 13th, 2005 at 10:57 pm [Reply]

Chapter 2: I see a Trail I want to be on.

This Trail fella had a place 30 miles beyond B*ttf*ck, Egypt. It was called the Lost Forest Animal Preserve. The Indian guide at the trading post said to drive up this logging road. When I felt like I was lost, I was there. Him heap big funny.

When I got there, Trail was mucking out some stables. Pretty soon he was shoveling sh!t to me, too. Claimed that he suspected this fake adjuster too late. When he went to track him down, the guy snuck up behind him and cold cocked him with the butt of a rifle.

Iâ€™d done some checking, seems the same thing had happened to him a few months previous, when some skirt named Birdie cold cocked him with a bottle. I allowed as how, for a naturalist, he sure had a tough time figuring out avifauna. He didnâ€™t get it. You know, Birdie â€“ Crane. He still didnâ€™t get it.

Speaking of birds, there was one checking me out from the shadows of the house porch. I figured it was Mrs. Trail. From what I could see, I thought Iâ€™d like to blaze her trail. But she wasnâ€™t coming out, and Trail kept trying to hold my sight line. Having nothing further to add to my case, he grew boring rather quickly. I didnâ€™t suspect him of anything, he was too much of a choir boy, albeit with a temper I could sense roiling underneath him like the Yellowstone caldera.

When this guy blows, run for high ground.

So I rolled out of there, throwing Mrs. Yellowstone a sulfurous look of my own as I climbed back in my rented Jetta and drove off.

About a mile down the logging trail, I pulled off under the shadow of the pines, lit a Habana Montecristo, and waited, and thought.

Basically, I expected nothing to come of all this. The thiefâ€™s trail was ice cold, with no lead on where he came from and no lead on where he went. I was going to milk Acme for a few weeks, eating, drinking and driving on their expense account, meanwhile building up a chunk of cash for Nickie. Hence, the Jetta, which on the expense account was a Mustang.

Eventually, Trail came bumping by in his pick-up truck. I drove back Â¾ of a mile, hid the Jetta under the trees again, and walked the last quarter mile up to the house. If Trail came back unexpectedly I could slip around back to the car with him none the wiser, if Mrs. Trail was obliging.

She had obligingly waited for me on the porch as I walked up. â€œI was waiting for you,â€ she said.

I thumbed my hat back, put one foot up on the porch deck, leaned my forearm on my knee and looked at her from under my snap-brim. â€œI know.â€

â€œIâ€™m Cherry.â€

A lesser man would have said something. I just raised an eyebrow.

Forty-five minutes later, we were smoking her last two Virginia Slims. Cherry told me the whole magpie story, but other than that she had little to add, except for one thing. The fake Crane had left behind the Palm Pilot before he flew the coop.

We didnâ€™t say much for another half hour or so, then she made me dinner. As she cooked, I took my pen knife and carved little diamonds out of blue SweetTarts. I swapped them with Markâ€™s last 5 Viagra. My little gift to Cherry.

Next: The Kurt Cobain Memorial Skeet Shoot
RBF
June 13th, 2005 at 11:09 pm [Reply]

Chip, once again you are way over da top
sorry to say I must go, working a.m,
PizzaBagel
June 13th, 2005 at 11:36 pm [Reply]

Mark Trail: “Can you spare a little time, Tom?…There’s something I’d like for us to do!”

Tom: “Sure, what did you have in mind? It doesn’t involve me getting into a sheep costume again, does it?”
daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 12:05 am [Reply]

Chapter 3: Corpseless in Seattle

In order to maintain the charade of actually working the case, I had to follow the few leads I had. Crane was from Seattle and, according to the Palm, had family there. Iâ€™d never been there, but I did like Starbuckâ€™s. I drove, ostensibly to save my client money, but really to gain myself another $400 day. Although I did trade up to the Mustang for the trip.

I showed up at the apartment of Craneâ€™s cousin, some DJ or something. A tough-looking old guy, 60 or so, with a cane, answered the door. â€œFrasier Crane?â€ I asked.

â€œWho wants to know?â€ the old guy said.

â€œIâ€™m Dac Hipster, Iâ€™m investigating the death of Robert Crane.â€

â€œYouâ€™re not quite a cop,â€ he said, in a voice that was not quite accusatory.

â€œP.I.â€ I said, â€œfrom Chicago.â€

â€œCops here are idiots,â€ he groused, â€œIâ€™m an ex-Chicago cop myself. Martin Crane. Bob was my nephew. Who hired you?â€

I almost told him; Marty and I were instant simpatico. But I just smiled and shook my head.

â€œGood boy,â€ he said. â€œCâ€™mon in. Wanna beer?â€

Turns out Marty had his suspicions about his nephewâ€™s demise. Bob had been a bad seed, always in trouble. There were â€œirregularitiesâ€ about some of the claims he had handled. The cops ruled his death by shotgun a suicide â€“ a Cobain special, they called it. Marty and I still thought Papa was the quintessential scattergun scatterbrains; everything Cobain had ever done was derivative. A friend in the morgue had passed a copy of the files on to Marty. He passed them on to me. More holes in the case than there were in the corpse, which was hardly identifiable. Neither Marty nor I believed the ID, which had been made by my old friend, Mel White.

I confessed to Marty that I was dogging it. But he was a tough old guy, part of a disappearing breed, and honor still meant something to guys like us. If he wanted, Iâ€™d track this down.

â€œNot for me,â€ he said, â€œbut for my sister-in-law. Sheâ€™s a widow and Bobby is her only kid. She needs to know, good or bad.â€

â€œEven if heâ€™s a murderer and a thief?â€ I asked.

He shrugged and said, â€œShe loves him. The Crane apples tend to fall far from the trees â€“ you should see MY boys â€“ but god help us, we love them.â€

I was on the case.

Next: Tasting away in Margaritaville
Flasshe
June 14th, 2005 at 12:11 am [Reply]

So, let me get this straight… Margo thinks that Scott is a weirdo? I didn’t see him trying to push Iced Tea on everyone. Thai Food, maybe, but not Iced Tea.
J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 6:27 am [Reply]

Sorry, RBF, the thing was still on, but I bailed out early and slunk off to my spartan, second-tier Cardinal living quarters for my evening prayers and devotions…

Dear Lord, bring RMMD to a quick and satisfying conclusion, give life and meaning to our Cardinalian work, and death to Gil Thorp, Amen.
J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 6:37 am [Reply]

Double-headerbob in A3G today!

RMMD: Better stock up on the Bombay, Cardinals, I see a long Montana Flashback coming. What was sweet to bear is hard to remember.

MW: Of course Scotch is not Rita’s breakfast of choice, you meddlin’, platitude-spewing old crone. If you had more than the occasional glass of wine for dinner, you would know that vodka is the Breakfast of Champions: odorless, colorless, and mixes nicely with fruit juices, preparing you to meet the challenges of the day ahead while providing the added bonus of giving you a leg up on the Fruits/Vegetables section of the Food Pyramid!
Rita the Freeloading Souse
June 14th, 2005 at 7:02 am [Reply]

“Oh Mary, I would never drink the hard stuff before noon. Just fix me up some breakfast. A Bloody Mary will do, just go light on the tomato juice.”
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 7:33 am [Reply]

Ritzilla: Who said anything about YOU drinking it? It’s a gift, but I expect you to make me a gallon pitcher of scotch-flavored iced tea, you dim-witted old bag! (easy on the tea).
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 7:37 am [Reply]

And you got it JPo. re: RMMD – very long Montana flashback. What will be hard to bear, will be easy to forget.
daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 7:40 am [Reply]

Good morning, you guys ready for the rest of the novella? Chapter four of 10 coming up.
J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 7:44 am [Reply]

Cardinal daC, I have covered my screen and my 178-character Apartment 3G™-model keyboard with heavy, industrial-grade plastic. Post away!
daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 7:44 am [Reply]

Chapter 4: The Heart of my Keys

According to Marty, Bob kept a boat. But not in Seattle, that would have been too convenient. Something about 300 rainy days a year made Bob want to vacation in the Florida Keys. Imagine! Some people.

I hopped a plane to Miami for this one. I was serious now and figured that a boat, the Caribbean, stolen diamonds and a guy pretending to be a suicide victim / murder victim / murderer / identity thief added up to something. I wasnâ€™t sure what, but thatâ€™s a lot of slashes for one guy.

I also had to backtrack Mel White. The little shite had lied to me, and I think I knew why. My playing fast and loose on my partners played to his hand perfectly, I was thinking. But he damn sure didnâ€™t have the diamonds. I had to stay on those.

And so I found myself at Sloppy Joes on Key West, talking to a local Islamorada girl. An editor for a local sheet, she knew almost everyone and had drawn a bead on Crane as a wrong â€˜un as soon as she laid eyes on him.

Because I was intent on the case, I maintained eye-contact with the I-girl. But there was a hint of an electric-blue bustier underneath herâ€¦ never mind! Anyway, all I-girl knew was that Craneâ€™s boat was gone â€“ she hadnâ€™t even heard about his theoretical death. After a few boat drinks â€“ courtesy of Acme Insurance â€“ we walked over to the marina. There I was introduced to â€˜Tonio Seguin, an ancient Cuban ex-pat who could have been the model for Ernestâ€™s Old Man.

â€˜Tonio had some indeterminate role at the marina. Not owner, not gopher, not anything but sitter and watcher, from what I could tell. That spelled smuggler. But he was sweet on the I-girl, as was I, and in some odd way that made us simpatico, too. Because he was old, and I was young, I guess.

Upshot of it was, Crane was not a smuggler. He ran his boat â€“ the Heart of My Keys â€“ strictly for pleasure. The only drugs on board were for private recreation. No one knew, officially, when the Heart left and where sheâ€™d gone. But â€˜Tonio knew, and for a price heâ€™d tell.

I-girl sidled up to him, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on his leathery cheek. â€˜Tonio sang like a cherry red â€™64 Stratocaster.

Next: Daylight come and me wanâ€™ go home
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 7:57 am [Reply]

Dac Hipster: Dayyyy-oooooo!

Thank God ‘Tonio has a more manly job than being an archeologist!

And this just in: Michael Jackson says he will no longer sleep with young boys. Wonder how many chances he thinks he would get anyway?
yellojkt
June 14th, 2005 at 8:00 am [Reply]

A day late, but you never know when the muse will hit. (Usually at work with a deadline looming.)

My friend the communist
Has bright tattoos, thatâ€™s no fuss
My mom can’t afford no gas
So I’m stuck riding the bus
I don’t have what Billyâ€™s got
It’s not about being funny
It’s funny that my Familyâ€™s not

I’m gonna stare at the sun
I’m gonna tell everyone
Itâ€™s magic marker (I’m gonna tell ‘em that)
I’ve got Not Me to blame
Ida Know why Iâ€™m so lame
I’m unfunny crap
I’m gonna stare at the sun
I’m gonna make a bad pun

I’ve got a crummy dad
He draws cartoons all day
When he gets too drunk
He lets Billy scribble away
Every time I turn around
Thereâ€™s little dashes all over town
Maybe something’s wrong with me
That makes me want to hug Jeffy

I’m gonna stare at the sun
I’m gonna tell everyone
I wonâ€™t go away (tell talented comics that)
I’ve got Not Me to blame
Ida Know why I’m so lame
I’m unfunny crap

I’m gonna stare at the sun
And mix up words stupidly
I’m gonna stare at the sun
Until he turns around and shoots me

Don’t have no modern clothes
But I’m still the cutest Dolly you know
Conley has a funny strip, but baby
I am loved by the syndicate
Every time I turn around
Thereâ€™s little dashes all over town
If you laugh, something’s wrong with you
â€™Cause thereâ€™s nothing funny about what I do
Maybe Barfyâ€™s crazy too

I’m gonna stay five forever
I’m never gonna get older
So just give up (go tell Medium Large that)
I’ve got a lifetime job
Being lame, yessiree Bob
I’m unfunny crap

I’m stinking up the comics
Got my Circle fixed
So I can suck on
Jefferson Justice
June 14th, 2005 at 8:09 am [Reply]

In other Hollywood news O.J. Simpson states he will no longer practice swinging his golf clubs at night after killing, er I mean not having anything to do with killing his wife.
daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 8:12 am [Reply]

Oh, yello!

SUPERB! Here – take the laurels – you’re Cardinal Laureate of the Week.

I’m almost sorry I stole your client (see chapter 1.)
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 8:14 am [Reply]

You done Sheryl Crowe proud yellojkt! Love that last line – says it all.
yellojkt
June 14th, 2005 at 8:17 am [Reply]

Gotta spin all this political talk to comix. Which strip will have the first Jacko joke and how lame will it be? My money is on Prickly City and it will not call out MJ by name but will feature the coyote getting away with nothing as heinous as child molesting, but will instead have some thinly veiled metaphor (like stealing candy from a baby).
yellojkt
June 14th, 2005 at 8:21 am [Reply]

Never mind Chipster, or should I say Dac? yello is working his own case. It just won’t be as mind-boggling comprehensive, and probably not as funny, as yours. I think we should have the next Cardinal Konklave at Sloppy Joes on Duval Street.
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 8:21 am [Reply]

Wow, you guys are on a role. This is going to be a good day.
Monkeys Uncle
June 14th, 2005 at 8:24 am [Reply]

While staring at todays Gil Thorp and meditating on Brent Rap Dog’s mane of lusterous, thick, and oddly styled hair I finally realized why Mandy’s hair looks so familiar. Mandy is a hip modern version of Nancy http://www.comics.com/comics/nancy/archive/nancy-20050613.html
Same bizzare spiky hair and ambiguous ethnicity. At last Gil Thorp makes perfect sense to me now. Wait, no it doesnt. Die Gil Thorp! Die!, Die!, Die!

Anyway, good morning curmudgeonites. Sorry about the rant.

DTGT
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 8:29 am [Reply]

Chapter 5: Dac switches to rum

It turns out that the Heart of my Keys was docked in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I had several of my passports, but immigration at the port of Ocho Rios was notoriously lax, so it was unlikely Iâ€™d need any of them. Rather than fly into Montego Bay and maybe tip my hand, I elected to take up â€˜Tonio on his offer of a ride on the boat of a â€œfriend of his.â€ The boat was fast, quiet and – being outbound from the US â€“ empty and thus unlikely to be searched and/or seized.

As we cruised into the port a couple days later, I scanned the boats docked there. Sure enough, the ostentatious sport fishing cruiser stood out like ugly Americans tend to. I was close, but needed a base of operations. Nearby the Heart was a charter fishing office, a hut almost, built onto the dock, called RBF Tours. Within minutes I was there, chatting up the rather attractive proprietress. â€œRBF â€“ really big fish, right?â€ I asked with a grin.

â€œNo, â€˜Remember Byron Frost,â€™â€ she answered, â€œitâ€™s a â€“ oh, never mind.â€

â€˜Have you eaten? Wanna come have dinner with me?â€

â€œSure,â€ she said, â€œanything but fish.â€

RBF also knew Crane, he was a semi-regular in Ocho Rios. Spent a lot of time at the Sandals Beach, ogling the topless girls. â€œHow do you know?â€ I asked. She just gave me a look. Yeah, I shoulda guessed, but that rum was strong!

I told her what I was up to, and RBF just laughed. â€œThereâ€™s no WAY he could fence something like that here. It would ring too many bells.â€

â€œCould he be selling it to a private collector?â€

â€œA DOG collar? I guess, but all the legit money here would just buy something like that legally, and the criminals are not the sort to go in for diamond dog collars. This is probably just a trans-shipment point. He needs to get this to Amsterdam and have it disappear in the diamond markets there.â€

â€œHow do you know so much about this?â€ I asked.

RBF almost choked on her scotch â€“ a little spewed. â€œI just read a lot,â€ she said.

â€œWell, he canâ€™t be keeping it on the boat, that would be too easy,â€ I said, giving her a pass for I donâ€™t know why. Damn, is SHE wearing a bustier too? I canâ€™t quite â€“ never mind!

â€œNo, but I may know someone who can tell you where heâ€™d keep it.â€

â€œLetâ€™s go see him then.â€

â€œWe canâ€™t see him until the morning. I canâ€™t find him at night.â€

â€œUh, huh. Okay, well, can I crash at your fishing shack?â€

â€œNo,â€ she said, giving me a curious look and a crooked grin, â€œBut you can crash at my place. Bring the scotch.â€

NEXT: Jumpinâ€™ Jack Bush
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 8:30 am [Reply]

I’m all in favor of doing the Duval crawl, but Sloppy Joe’s is a shadow of its former self. I-Girl, what is currently kool down island?
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 8:36 am [Reply]

Chipster, does your novella have a name? If not may I suggest “A Crane in the Wind”.
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 8:48 am [Reply]

Wren,

Red Bird Detective Agency Mysteries #1: My Best Collar
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 8:58 am [Reply]

Oh good. It’s the first in a series.
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 9:07 am [Reply]

Chapter 6: Good boy, bad boy

After breakfast at which we again had no fish, RBF and I strolled hand in hand into the shopping district of Ocho Rios. We headed up to a walking shrubbery, an old Jamaican man covered over with a mantle woven out of fresh plants. He had a burro with baskets of sugar cane on his back, and a little dog in a rhinestone collar and a Jamaican flag puppy jacket. Tourists thought him picturesque. He would charge 5 dollars US to be picturesque for your camera. Called himself Jack in the Bush.

At RBFâ€™s friendly greeting, Jack called over to a young, strong-looking black man. â€œHi, Jooo-seph. Come over by here and do de boosh. Dotâ€™s de good boy.â€

â€œYah, mon,â€ Jooo-seph obeyed immediately. What is it with Caribbean crime bosses and their eccentricities?

â€œWhat kin Jack do for you, mon?â€ he asked.

â€œI need to track down where someone would hide something very valuable. Something he canâ€™t let on that he has.â€

â€œSoamtâ€™ing that no belonga him, you mean?â€

â€œItâ€™s Bob Crane,â€ RBF broke in.

â€œDOT mon? He a berrrry little shock swimminâ€™ wid de big shocks.â€

â€œWhat do you mean?â€

â€œOh, deys good boys anâ€™ deys bad boys here in Ocho Rios. De good boys, dey maybe sell you a little ganja, a little pipe. De bad boys, dey movinâ€™ de cocaine and wimmin. Bob Crane, he buyinâ€™ for himself to use. Fust de ganj, den de odder stuff. Den he gamblinâ€™ wid dem. He owinâ€™ dem big time, bimeby.â€

Sounded uncomfortably familiar, except for the drugs and the hoes. And that makes it different, right?

â€œWould they take diamonds as payment for these debts, do you think?â€

â€œYa, dey would, if dey was here. Dey off in Cuba samplinâ€™ the girlies, now.â€

â€œSo where would Crane keep the diamonds until they get back? Not on his boat?â€

Jack shot me a shrewd look. â€œGiâ€™ me fifty dolla, US, anâ€™ a bottle of rum, and Jackâ€™ll tell ya.â€ I produced the cash, and RBF ran across the street for the rum.

When the transaction was complete, Jack drank off a tremendous amount of the bottle then sighed and said â€œYahhhh, mon, Everâ€™tâ€™ing irie, now.â€

â€œJack, where would he stash the jewels?â€

â€œHe stosh dem in plain sight. On â€˜is boat, mon, where else?â€

â€œWHAT? Where on the boat?â€

â€œHe got a false bottom on â€˜is bait well. He keep â€˜is coke dere. He tâ€™ink no one know about it.â€

â€œHow do YOU know about it?â€ RBF demanded.

â€œOne oâ€™ my good boys, he build it for â€˜im in Florida.â€

We headed off after that, and I thanked Jack profusely. â€œIâ€™d have paid $100 for the info,â€ I said.

â€œIâ€™da taken just the rum,â€ he answered.

NEXT: You get a line, Iâ€™ll get a pole, honey.
Brent "Horn-Dawg" Raptor
June 14th, 2005 at 9:12 am [Reply]

“So Mandy, I understand you are talented with the woodwinds. How about playing a few notes on my skin flute?”
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 9:13 am [Reply]

Magnu, er I mean Dac: Red Bird Detective Agency and My Best Collar – doesn’t get any more clever than that! Thanks for the shout out (but you didn’t have to spill da beans re: my metallic red busti, er I mean bus.)

And back to RMMD: How can old-man Foxworth in his wildest dreams have expected a manly occupation from a son named PusBOY?
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 9:29 am [Reply]

Chapter 7: Fishing for clues

Back at the marina, RBF and I could see Crane on his boat, puttering about. We came up with a quick plan, and she headed back to her â€œoffice.â€

A few minutes later I strolled up, wearing new sport togs Iâ€™d just bought at an outrageously priced seafront boutique. I looked vaguely nautical.

RBF and I chatted a bit, and then she walked me over to Craneâ€™s boat. â€œSay, Bob!â€ she called, â€œAre you heading out?â€

â€œMaybe,â€ he said, â€œwhatâ€™s up?â€

â€œIâ€™ve got a client here wants to fish real bad, but my housegirlâ€™s daughter is sick and I want to take her to the clinic. Can you take him?â€

â€œDo I look like a tour guide?â€ he asked.

â€œDude, Iâ€™ve got like, a thousand bucks Iâ€™ll pay you, if youâ€™ll take me.â€ I donâ€™t know why, but I felt that I somehow had to hide my persona. Like heâ€™d care!

â€œCash?â€

â€œTotally!â€

â€œCome aboard.â€

Crooks are SOooo unpredictable. Not! (OK, Iâ€™ll stop that now.)

The plan was for me to get friendly with Crane, see what info I could glean from him, and pop the bottom on the bait well if an opportunity presented itself. Personally, I was pinning my hopes on the gleaning, with a view toward developing a strategy for later.

We were about 6 miles offshore when we cut the engines and started fishing. I was just getting into background info and eying the bait well when I said â€œSo, how did you find Ocho Rios?â€

â€œMy boss brought me here,â€ he said.

â€œYou boss?â€ I almost spewed my beer. â€œYour boss knows you come here?â€

â€œOf cowse I know,â€ came a voice behind me. â€œIâ€™m just suwpwized you got here so quickwy, what with youwr detouwr to Seattew.â€

Gulp!

NEXT: Iâ€™m scwewed!
yellojkt
June 14th, 2005 at 9:41 am [Reply]

My God Man! Slow down! In less than twelve hours, we have had more story than 6 months of RMMD, Mark Trail and MW combined, including an actual plot twist! I can’t take this pace! I’m even typing in exclamation points! Stop the madness! Call an AIR-EVAC HELICOPTER!
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 9:52 am [Reply]

I wrote it all last night in a (isweartogod) Bombay Sapphire Martini induced frenzy. I fell asleep around one AM re-reading it. There’s 3 more chapters, and then you can all go back to the glacial pace of Mark Trail, et. al.

“The majestic glaciers of North America continue to recede, but not long ago in Mark Trail time, they covered the US as far south as Milwaukee…”
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 9:58 am [Reply]

Chapter 8: Double cross, triple cross, right cross

I donâ€™t carry a gun. I have a gun and can shoot it, but I donâ€™t carry it for situations just like these. See, if I had a gun, Iâ€™d be tempted to do some OK Corral sh*t or something, which would probably just get me killed sooner rather than later. Plus, these guys know Iâ€™m not packing, because all I had on by this time, in the warm Caribbean sun, was a pair of swim trunks. Clearly NOT packing there, not a gun anyway. But if they thought I had one, Iâ€™d have been shot by now, probably.

This enables the bad guys to feel all cocky, and enables me to use what IS my best weapon, my mouth. This is to stall for time and hope a solution presents itself. Or maybe, just maybe, to talk my way out of it. But most of all, this is a mechanism that allows me to explain the rest of the plot to you. Liiiike this:

â€œConfused, Mistew Hipstewr. And by the way, thatâ€™s a stupid name.â€

â€œIt is the way you say it,â€ I rejoined. â€œAnd yes, I am, a bit. I had it pegged that Crane double crossed you as to the jewels, and you hired me to bird dog him for you.â€

â€œYes, you would see it that way, but you wewenâ€™t meant to see it that way. How in the heww you evew went to Seattew instead of Fwowida fiwst is beyond me. Key West was in the Pawm Piwot, too.â€

â€œI like Starbuckâ€™s.â€

â€œWeww, it didnâ€™t mattew, because you got hewe and you spent some time asking questions, which was aww we needed you fow, anyway, It makes Bobâ€™s pwesumed death mowe pwausibew.â€

â€œMore what?â€ I asked Crane with a raised eyebrow.

â€œPlausible.â€

â€œOh. Okay. Are you going to kill Crane, too?â€

â€œOh, no! Bob and I awe going to spwit the diamonds and go ouwr sepawate ways. Me back to wowk, fow a whiwe. But Bobâ€™s fwiends hewe on Jamaica have to think heâ€™s dead. They have wong awms and even wonger memowies.â€

â€œI just hate being a plot device,â€ I said.

â€œOh, you wonâ€™t be fow wong. Weâ€™wre going awound the east side of the iswand on the way to pick up the diamonds Weâ€™ww â€œdwopâ€ you on the way. Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh.â€

As that creaky laugh ground out I shot Crane a look. He paused, then gasped. He knew that I knew that White didnâ€™t know where the diamonds were. I looked meaningfully at the bait well. I had leverage!

So Crane strolled up to me and, with a quick right cross, dropped me like the Red Baron dropped Snoopyâ€™s Sopwith Camel.

NEXT: Honor among thieves?
Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 10:20 am [Reply]

Of course scotch is not Ritazilla’s breakfast of choice. She pounds down vodka until 3 P.M. That way, her jerk bosses will not smell alcohol on her breath.

hic…
Anne Nonymous
June 14th, 2005 at 10:23 am [Reply]

Wow, Chip, you’ve outdone yourself! Can’t wait to see how it all turns out.
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 10:27 am [Reply]

Chapter 9: Just like I planned.

I woke up a little sooner than expected, I think. I was still unbound, but the boys were seated right above me, on the trolling chairs, with me on the deck at their feet. They were discussing where to drop me. I immediately played what I hoped was the trump card. When itâ€™s the only card you have, it better be Ace of trump.

â€œWhen you gonna tell him where the jewels REALLY are, Bob?â€

â€œShut up, dick!â€

â€œItâ€™s Dac. Câ€™mon, Bob, tell him about the hidey-hole.â€

Okay, I had a plan. I would get these two fighting, then escape and or capture them in the confusion. Yeah, well, you come up with something better on short notice like that. I was under pressure!

White was no dummy. He knew a guilty look when he heard one. The gun wavered over in Bobâ€™s direction. Not that I could do anything about it, lying on the deck still. But it was a start. Time to push for more.

Sitting up I prompted eagerly, â€œThe bait well, Bob. You remember. The false bottom.â€

Bob really needs a different line of work than crook. He blanched like a hemophiliac at a bris. Mel held the gun on him firmly, now, and ordered him to open the bait well.

Bob slowly went over, while I edged up and looked for an out. There was a Zodiac tied off the back of the boat, but THAT wasnâ€™t going to work. Iâ€™d be leaking blood all over it before I could unmoor.

Swim for it? Well, the 6 miles to land was about 5 miles, 5,200 feet beyond my limit. Another boat was a ways off. I couldnâ€™t tell distances on water â€“ maybe a mile? Maybe heading this way? Letâ€™s see where that goes.

Bob continued to argue that I was just trying to drive a wedge between them. It was pretty desperate sounding, and the one consolation I had in dying was that Iâ€™d probably get to see Crane go first.

He pulled the interior of the bait well up, revealing the compartment beneath and then he paused.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

â€œSee, nothing there,â€ he said. The timing was impeccable.

â€œNice twy, asshowe,â€ White said to me. â€œOkay, Bob, whewe is it?â€

â€œWhere it always was. Under the cross by the side of the road, like we planned,â€ Bob lied. I knew he was lying, but Mel accepted it at face value. I didnâ€™t know where the hell the dingus was, but Bob had fully expected it to be in that bait well.

â€œIâ€™m going to check it out,â€ Mel said. â€œI canâ€™t twust eithew of you. So Iâ€™m taking the key with me in the Zodiac.â€

Mel popped up to the bridge, then came back down, shoving the key into a back pocket. He got down onto the little ledge off the back and untied the Zodiac, climbed in, gunned it and headed off.

â€œWhere is it?â€ Bob and I asked each other. â€œIf I had it, would I have got on the boat with you?â€ I asked.

Bob stared gloomily off after Mel, then looked down and did a double take. â€œHe dropped the key! On the ledge!â€

Crane hopped off the back, then climbed back on a second later with the key in his mouth. He started to climb up to the bridge.

In that instant, a couple of things clicked for me. I decided to see how fast I could swim my 80 foot limit.

I think I was doing pretty good when WHAM! The explosion pressed me down into the water. As I fought against blacking out, drowning, swallowing salt water and all kinds of other nasty things, the one thought that crystallized was â€œWell, that makes Bobâ€™s death â€˜pwausibew.â€™â€

I got back to the surface and was already beginning to wonder about the other 5 miles, 5,200 feet, when the loud sputter of the Zodiac came back alongside.

â€œGood guess, Mistew Hipstewr!â€ Mel White yelled at me over the sound of his loudly idling engine. â€œBut you stiww wose.â€

White stood up, trying to steady his aim with the pistol against the rocking of the waves. It was only about 10 feet, he neednâ€™t have bothered so much. Point and shoot.

Suddenly, a huge blur loomed and slashed across my vision, a bow wave throwing me back. A large fishing boat ran over the Zodiac, which disappeared beneath its bulk, only to bob back up in propeller-riven shreds of rubber, plastic and Mel.

The name on the back of the boat said â€œReally Big Fish II.â€

NEXT: Jamaica Farewell.
Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 10:31 am [Reply]

He’s a archeologist, and he’s okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

I dig up relics. I wear high heels,
Suspendies, and a bra.
I wish I’d been a fencer,
Just like my dear Papa.
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 10:48 am [Reply]

Chapter 10: Any questions?

RBF picked me up and we fled the scene before the JDF showed. The explosion would not have been too noticeable, but the oily smoke of Bob Craneâ€™s Viking-type send-off would draw the authorities, and the curious, like flies on yesterdayâ€™s jerked chicken. We headed straight out to sea for a half hour, turned around and raced back like we were bystanders, or bysailors – whatever. Sure enough, the Jamaican Defense Force cutter was there, poking about the wreckage, and they warned us off and ordered us to go about our business. Which we gladly did.

Back at the shack, I changed back into my gumshoe costume and we headed to an open-air cantina near Jackâ€™s corner. Unlike any woman I ever met before, RBF did not ask one question all that time, and she still held back until I had a couple of belts under my belt. Then she just cocked an eyebrow at me.

I explained what had happened to me and what I suspected. Mel and Bob were ripping off Acme together, and the heat was getting to be too much. When the loss of the collar came up, they saw their chance and faked Bobâ€™s death, then used the administrative confusion to cover his trip to the Lost Forest. By the time a real adjuster showed up, heâ€™d be long gone.

Bob had to flee somewhere, and Jamaica was their only safe haven. But the bad boys then necessarily knew Bob was alive, and they wanted their money, as bad boys tend to do. Mel and Bob concocted the inquisitive gumshoe scenario and planned to fake Bobâ€™s death a second time. Only Bob planned to fake his death with Melâ€™s body, and Mel wasnâ€™t planning a fake death for Bob at all. In everyoneâ€™s scenario, I ended up dead. The amount of double and triple crosses made my head spin, so I had another scotch.

Two people were supposed to end up dead, the jewels supposedly lost with them. From my point of view, the right two got Darwinned out, leaving me naturally selected to propagate the species. And I was thinking about a little propagation right about then. A near brush with death and alcohol does that to a man.

â€œSlow down, lover boy. Whereâ€™s the necklace?â€ RBF said. â€œBob expected it to be where he left it.â€

â€œAsk him,â€ I nodded toward the sidewalk.

She swiveled around and there was Jack trudging up, the burroâ€™s lead in one hand, a staff in the other, and his little dog trotting around the burroâ€™s hooves. Joseph and a couple of good boys trailed behind.

â€œStosh dem in plain sight, eh mon?â€ I called.

Jack laughed deep and rich â€“ â€œAhhhh HA ha ha ha haaaaaâ€ â€“ and said â€œDots right, mon. But I didnâ€™t tâ€™ink you be in danger yet. He hov his pottner wid â€˜im?â€

â€œYep.â€

â€œDey boatâ€™ dead?â€

â€œYep.â€

â€œAre you mad at Jack?â€

â€œNope.â€

â€œDen everâ€™tâ€™ing irie. EVERâ€™tâ€™ing irie!â€

â€œYep. Can I buy your dog?â€

â€œShe not for sale, but she got a present for you.â€ Here Jack handed me an old 5 pound coffee sack. â€œTwenty tâ€™ousand, US,â€ he said. â€œâ€Tis how de good boys say tâ€™anks.â€

The money was a nice surprise to me, but RBF was flabbergasted. So I let her in on the joke.

â€œWhatâ€™s your dogâ€™s name, Jack?â€

â€œShe be Princess, mon. Say hello to de nice people, Princess.â€

â€œYap,â€ said Princess.

â€œWell, sheâ€™s a nice dog,â€ I said, leaning over and petting her, â€œa nice Princess, but sheâ€™s got a collar fit for a Queen.â€

â€œYeah, mon! De besâ€™ collar ever.â€

The End.
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 10:49 am [Reply]

Chipster,

I believe you have been paid the ultimate compliment. Except for the occasional word of encouragement to you, this normally loquacious assembly remained unnaturally silent during the entire presentation of your work.

May I be the first to say:
Hurray!! Huzzah!!! And Many, Many Sputt Blubbs!!!
Dac Hipster P.I.
June 14th, 2005 at 10:54 am [Reply]

thanks, Wren! I just hope RBF’s not offended. LOL.

Well, I have meetings for the next couple of hours. I’ll stop back and see how it’s playing in Peoria later.
Islamorada Girl
June 14th, 2005 at 10:56 am [Reply]

Great hardboiled caper!

Since I don’t go down to Key West much, I don’t know the bar scene. But here at home, I am at home at the dive across the street from me, The Mermaid Tavern. Or at least that’s what it was named last week.
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 11:10 am [Reply]

Dac, I couldn’t possibly be more flattered! You da Novelist AND da P.I.!

Whew – you’ve left us spellbound and speechless.

Thanks again !
Heading back to my “office.”
J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 11:16 am [Reply]

Dac – another amazing oeuvre…even though I didn’t get a shout-out…guess it’s off to the Cardinals’ Liquor Cabinet again…
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 11:30 am [Reply]

If I could I’d gladly share the spotlight with ya J.Po.

And no doubt Islamorada Girl, Anne Nonymous and other femmes of the College are gonna be offering me lots of iced tea.

All I can say is Eat your hearts out! (and, it helps to have a short name – LOL)
Moesy
June 14th, 2005 at 11:43 am [Reply]

RBF – you’re right – I’m jealous.

I think daChipster just inspired my next book…Iced tea?
Easily-distracted RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 11:56 am [Reply]

Why thanks, Moesy! Yes, I’ll have refills… no, wait.

It worked!
Moesy (Margo's evil twin)
June 14th, 2005 at 12:13 pm [Reply]

he he he…now he’s mine…all mine!!!!!

Muah ha ha!
RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 12:14 pm [Reply]

Some funny MJ cartoons:
http://cagle.slate.msn.com/news/MichaelJacksonVerdict/3.asp
Bookworm
June 14th, 2005 at 12:29 pm [Reply]

Am I the only one who noticed the flowers by Buck’s bed? Any thoughts on who sent them?
Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 12:32 pm [Reply]

If you look at the card on the flowers very closely it reads

“Soon, you will be digging around my property again! Can’t wait.
Love, RMMD”
Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 12:56 pm [Reply]

That’s funny, I thought the card said:

You’ll be pitching a tent in my back yard in no time!
– June

Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 1:06 pm [Reply]

I was translating from the ancient Indian language it was written in. I might have mis-translated. I could not find Abbey the Wonder Dog™ to help me with my wording.

Sorry.

Lor the Green-eyed
June 14th, 2005 at 1:08 pm [Reply]

LOL, Nom!

And no, RBF, I will not be offering you iced tea. I don’t believe in fairy tales, and anyway I think that P.I. guy is a weirdo. [waits for the obligatory head-bobbing of shock]

Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 1:15 pm [Reply]

There once was a Kardinal named Chipster
Who called Bombay™ Gin an elixir,
Whether prose, poem or song
He could write all day long
And his muse never gave him the slip, sir.

barrett
June 14th, 2005 at 1:39 pm [Reply]

So the Phantom is planning to use “Bandar amnesia medicine” to make the chiquita forget?

He’s totally giving her rufies.

Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 1:43 pm [Reply]

Here, drink this “Bandar amnesia medicine”

Splutt!! Glubb!!

Yeeeeecchhh.

Tastes like ice tea.

Incident
June 14th, 2005 at 1:45 pm [Reply]

Arrgh, I thought we had concluded that the little blonde jailbait in The Phantom was a boy. Now I’m not so sure. What is it?

(I’d hit it, either way)

fluffytufts
June 14th, 2005 at 1:46 pm [Reply]

I almost wish they’d fire me. Help!

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 1:53 pm [Reply]

It’s OK, fluffy. You didn’t miss much…great story by daChip, and all the women are moving to Chicago. Guess it’s back to the funny pages for us.

Moesy
June 14th, 2005 at 2:17 pm [Reply]

The phantom’s true identity comes to light – He’s Michael Jackson in purple lycra. That’s totally a little boy & he’s totally giving him rufies.

Dennis Jimenez
June 14th, 2005 at 2:19 pm [Reply]

Skull Island Iced Tea – two parts tea – one part scotch one part hog tranquilzer….

fluffytufts
June 14th, 2005 at 2:29 pm [Reply]

Chicago!? Why are all the women moving to Chicago? What’s the big event?

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 2:31 pm [Reply]

Starring roles in daChipster Spillane’s next crime opus…

fluffytufts
June 14th, 2005 at 2:35 pm [Reply]

Damn.

Jordon
June 14th, 2005 at 2:49 pm [Reply]

Da Chipster, That was completely satisfying on every level: (1) as a straight story; (2) the comics references; (3) the Cardinal references. Your writing talent – how enviable!

gnome de blog
June 14th, 2005 at 3:00 pm [Reply]

Isn’t Bandar amnesia medicine what Rita has for breakfast?

Nom du Jour
June 14th, 2005 at 3:14 pm [Reply]

“Isnâ€™t Bandar amnesia medicine what Rita has for breakfast?”

I don’t remember, is it?

But I do remember a couple of things about Bandarzilla Ice Tea™:

It will make you cheat at cards but make you forget what are good hands and what are bad ones.

Old coots who live out in the Land of the Giants (animals that is) drink a homemade version of it.

RBF
June 14th, 2005 at 3:18 pm [Reply]

But is it manly, Nom?

All day I’ve been humming the theme-song from “Two-and-a-half Men”, manly, man, men,
manly, man, men.

Lor
June 14th, 2005 at 3:33 pm [Reply]

No move to Chi-town in my future, J.Po – I am totally loyal to the City of Brotherly Glubb!

Besides, I already lived in Chicago once and it was way too far to the shore. Sorry, daChip, Michigan Lake is no substitute.

Lor
June 14th, 2005 at 3:34 pm [Reply]

Er … that would be Lake Michigan. Guess it’s been longer than I thought. Bandarzilla juice powerful, big friend.

Anne Nonymous
June 14th, 2005 at 3:48 pm [Reply]

Chip, truly a masterful work. I-girl, Moesy, and the rest of us eagerly await your next masterwork (where the rest of us will figure prominently, I hope- are you taking bribes?) Don’t make us come up there and open up a can of whuppass to make you mention us! No, seriuosly, great job!

daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 3:51 pm [Reply]

Thanks to all out there for your kind comments. Apologies to everyone who didn’t make it in – THIS TIME. I hope to be inspired to do more with the Red Bird Detective Agency, featuring other hard-boiled private eyes, male and female. And Cardinals in starring, supporting, and seducing roles, too. Even villains, if you’d like to be.

Anyone feel free to pick up the franchise – I’m looking at you, yello, you could write Story #2.

And a nice hand to RBF for being a good sport and letting me sleep with her as research for the story…. (just kidding!) Wasn’t that cool how she chopped Mel into chum?

GEEZ that was a hard 5000 words. But fun, more fun than I thought it would be. Especially not knowing ahead of time how it would turn out. For example: I had no IDEA we’d end up on an episode of Frasier.

Props to the good boys at the JDF: http://www.jdfmil.org/units/coast_guard/cg_home.htm

And, looking back, I can’t believe how many product placements I put in there, either: at least a dozen. What am I writing, a movie?

Heyyyyyyy…..Kevin Smith, I’m talking to YOU DUDE! Call me!

I’ve met several Jacks – none of them crime lords that I knew of – but they are walking tourist traps in Jamaica, as described, though usually without animals.

Thanks again for letting me air my Muse – and props as always to Pope Josh for being the Alexander Wollcott of our Curmudgeon Round Table.

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 3:51 pm [Reply]

Lor – another City of Brotherly Glubb-er and a Zevon fan? What part of the city? (Don’t worry, I’m not going to stalk you, just curious.)

Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 3:55 pm [Reply]

Hey I-Girl,

Isn’t it cute when people think Philadelphia is near the shore? Considering the temperature and color of the water, it might as well be Lake Michigan. It really makes you appreciate the the Sunshine State.

daChipster
June 14th, 2005 at 3:59 pm [Reply]

And what shore are they near…oh, oh the JERSEY shore! Oh, well then.

Bruce Springsteen is my god, and Kevin Smith is my personal lord and savior, but if that means I have to get baptised in THAT water, well, to paraphrase W.C. Fields…

On the whole, I’d rather stay in Philadelphia

Or better still, stay under the Boardwalk.

Lor
June 14th, 2005 at 4:09 pm [Reply]

Hey Chip, we cleaned up that medical waste years ago! It’s a mere 90-minute drive for me. Going down the shore (yes, you read that right – it’s “down the shore”) is more of a Philly hallmark than the almighty cheesesteak. (And speaking thereof, forget Pat’s: too gristly.)

J.Po, stalk away, a spot of stalking would sure liven things up around here. I haunt the Great Northeast, though I’m actually from the ‘burbs originally. Et tu?

Wren – at least we don’t get FOUR HURRICANES A SEASON. Break out the Air Evac Helicopter and (all together now) Bark! Bark! Bark!

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 4:25 pm [Reply]

I second Lor’s comment – one spots floating corpses in the ocean VERY infrequently these days. As with any shore, there are good spots and bad. And while winters up here aren’t great, at least we send all of our older drivers to Florida to clog their highways and byways.

Lor, I am actually in the ‘burbs, but not by much – literally just over the border from Chestnut Hill. And my preference runs toward the Italian roast pork sandwich (with broccoli rabe, naturally) from Tony Luke’s…

garf
June 14th, 2005 at 4:28 pm [Reply]

Garfield amused me the other day, even with the complete lack of a joke or punchline. I just liked his use of the phrase, “What really curdles my cheese.”

Lor
June 14th, 2005 at 4:31 pm [Reply]

Mmmm, roast pork … [insert Homer Simpson slobbering noise here]

Anonymous
June 14th, 2005 at 4:52 pm [Reply]

OK Ladies, to each his own. We may disagree on weather preferences, but I wholeheartedly support your culinary tate.

Wren Wah
June 14th, 2005 at 4:55 pm [Reply]

Oops, I forgot to sign my last post. Didn’t mean to step on Anne’s toes.

yellojkt
June 14th, 2005 at 4:57 pm [Reply]

Mmmmm, Tony Luke’s roast pork with brocolli rabe. I’ve made up special trips just to go to Oregon St in Philly from Baltimore.

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 5:05 pm [Reply]

Sounds like momentum is building for a Sout’ Philly Conclave…

Islamorada Girl
June 14th, 2005 at 5:54 pm [Reply]

Yeah, dem people fra Filthydelphia all go to da Jersey Shore. Margate, Stone Harbor, Avalon, Oshun City, Wildwood. Dey don’ drink da warter tho.They drink da cawfee.

Lor
June 14th, 2005 at 6:35 pm [Reply]

LOL! It’s “wooder” though, not warter. As in, what we don’t drink while we cheer on the Iggles. Gotta problem wit dat? You got a bad addytude, lady.

J.Po
June 14th, 2005 at 6:40 pm [Reply]

Beat me to it on “wooder,” Lor…and I was going to correct Isla on “Fluffya,” also.

I’m betting that somewhere, we can find an old photo of Isla with big hair and a Flyers jersey…

Sharkbait
June 15th, 2005 at 1:49 am [Reply]

I’d like to see special creative works like daChipster’s novela enshrined in a designated area on Josh’s site, so we can find them again easily without having to remember which comment thread they appeared in. “The Best of..” or such.

Lor
June 15th, 2005 at 11:53 am [Reply]

Good idea, Sharkbait. I second that emotion.

Islamorada Girl
June 15th, 2005 at 4:59 pm [Reply]

Ahem. I do have a Philly Phanatic baseball cap, and when I was growin’ up in Chester County, I went to Iggles concerts in Philly. JFK Stadium? If you can remember ridin’ around in a van in the 60’s and 70’s, drinkin’ Annie Greenspring and smokin’ weed, listening to Dark Side of the Moon,you probably weren’t there.

Wooter is a better phonetic than warter, I must say.

And Quaker Maid cheesesteaks are the only way to go.

J.Po
June 15th, 2005 at 7:47 pm [Reply]

The photo is out there, Isla. You…big hair…Flyers jersey…I just know it. I’m gonna get Bob Crane on the case, after he gets out of jail for attempted insurance fraud.

FYI, I have a pdf of an article written in the Inquirer (Philadelphia, not National) just before Valentine’s Day, saying that a Tony Luke’s roast pork sandwich is truly The Food of Love…if you can get me an email address, I’ll ship it to ya…and meet you shortly thereafter on Oregon Avenue (or at the Phillies new ballpark, where Tony Luke’s has a stand behind left-center field).

Lor
June 15th, 2005 at 10:29 pm [Reply]

No way, I-Girl! I grew up in Chester County too! Though I don’t remember much about it. Must mean I was there.

Islamorada Girl
June 16th, 2005 at 10:18 am [Reply]

Lor–where’d you go to high school? Small world, huh?

Lor
June 16th, 2005 at 3:56 pm [Reply]

Downingtown – And you?

Islamorada Girl
June 17th, 2005 at 8:58 am [Reply]

Kennett. You can reach me at hlchappell@yahoo.com
Downingtown! Wow. . .
I hate Kennett. I blew out of there and I never blew back.

JontheMyrmidon
June 22nd, 2005 at 1:31 pm [Reply]

Has any noticed that the joke in this Curtis cartoon was stolen from an episode of Malcolm in the Middle. Dewey beat himself up an blamed reese so he could have control of the TV at the beginnings of one of the episodes. I smell a possible lawsuit.

Erik
October 27th, 2005 at 12:30 am [Reply]

Fight Club. It is also ripping off Fight Club.

Tubby The Snuffy Smif dood
January 4th, 2006 at 7:48 pm [Reply]

I imagine Curtis, Bullet-Wound, Barry in the 3rd panel at the bottem, Charlie Chipmonk, Papa Patterson, Lawrence, Papa Zits, Hector, Killer, Hillary Forth, Elmo, Jeffy Keane, the Boondocks Grandad, Zippy, Pig, The Crocodilles, Ziggy’s Fish, Morton Godthlwait form Foxtrot, and Suffy Smif singing this.

Tubby The Snuffy Smif dood
January 4th, 2006 at 7:53 pm [Reply]

Whoops, I ment Ted instead of Hillary, It also needs

The King of Id, Charie Brown, Rerun Van Pelt, Woodstalk, Cosmo’s Nephew[whatever his name is], Lucky Eddie, Joey from DTM, and Grimm.

Phantom Man
March 19th, 2006 at 8:21 am [Reply]

Anybody that wants to see sum Boondocks music videos goto the video section of http://www.siaura.com. There’s a nice one of that Samurai scene.

metin
December 14th, 2008 at 10:07 pm [Reply]

TÜRK?YE’den selam ve sevgiler…

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