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Crock, 8/12/26

I’ll admit it: I am, in fact, a gentleman of a certain age, which means I must begin working out how I’m going to start facing mortality. Turning, as one does, to the comics for masculine role models, I learn that, if I feel my heart starting to give out on me, I should simply glare out over the parapet in manly silence waiting for it to pass (“it” here being either this cardiac event or my fleeting life on earth). And if anyone tries to engage me in conversation in my final moments? Well, that’s when I make it their problem that I’m dying, and make them feel bad about it.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 8/12/26

Pinocchio has what looks to me to be a big frown on his face, but maybe that’s just supposed to be what his face as a puppet looks like? Unclear. If it’s the latter, it’s depressing that he looks like that all the time, but if it’s the former it’s because he’s learning that the autonomy he long yearned for carries with it the terrible burdens of responsibility for one’s own personhood, which is frankly even more depressing.