Hagar the Horrible, 11/20/13
Isn’t this the way of the world? You try to rule your corner of 9th century Europe with grace and dignity, administer justice to the peasants, use the carefully stewarded wealth of your little dukedom or county to add a little splendor to your court — as much as anyone can expect in this fallen age — only to have a lifetime’s work destroyed in a day by vicious pagan raiders from the North. And then, to add insult to injury (and the injuries to your soldiers and servants, injuries dealt out by blood-soaked Norse swords, are quite literal), your son, your own flesh and blood, cares nothing for the meticulous day-to-day of rulership to which he’s the heir, but only dreams of adventure and travel and plunder and murder, and idolizes the unlettered savage who has burned everything you’ve ever loved.
Once upon a time Heathcliff had dreams, too, dreams of an empire of cake. We can only guess at what disappointments he’s suffered since, but we should perhaps be alarmed at the great lengths he’s going to this morning to announce his overwhelming ennui to the world.