Dances with pygmies
The Phantom, 6/26/05
I direct your attentions to panels one and two of the bottom row: At last! A faux-deep ethnic sidekick is called on his pidgin native-wisdom bullcrap! You’re next, Yoda! You hear me, you little green dimestore Buddhist con artist?
Folks, you ought to count yourself lucky that you weren’t here and I wasn’t posting during my lovely fianceé’s absence. It was one part Rita-style darkened-room self-pity and one part Bandar medicine-style inability to concentrate or remember things. The future Mrs. C. is back now, and I’m back from the Bad Place, but I’m not going to even try to cover the drama of the end of last week in the comics. However, unlike the shameful incident a few weeks ago when I purged some messages unread and earned your everlasting enmity, I did read your comments this time around, and so did Amber, and as proof I offer a transcript of a conversation we just had:
A: They’re talking about us. We’re famous!
J: Um, technically, honey, I’m famous.
A: Hey, I was described as a “cutie.” You were simply “bearded.”