Post Content

One Big Happy, 2/7/06

Every time I decide that One Big Happy is just too precious for its current position on my mental comics map — just on the good side of the funny/not funny dividing line — it goes and keeps itself in my good graces. Today’s strip obviously didn’t wow me with its intensely lame punchline; rather, I was charmed by Joe, who’s usually overshadowed by his younger sister’s cranked up adorability. In this strip, the towheaded youngster is clearly determined to fight with every ounce of strength he has to preserve his own ignorance. I like his expression in panel one as he airily dismisses his mother’s attempt at expanding his knowledge base; but the real gem is panel three, as he silently fumes at being forced to learn something. The angry stare simultaneously conveys the fact that he (1) doesn’t know the answer, (2) is embarrassed that he doesn’t know the answer, (3) doesn’t really want to know the answer, and (4) deeply resents that he’s even having this conversation. It’s a facial expression that’s only going to get less attractive as Joe gets older, and yet I have a feeling that his family, classmates, transient girlfriends, and, sooner than later, the juvenile justice system will be seeing a lot more if it in the years to come. Frankly, if there were no fourth panel, this strip would be just about perfect.

Post Content

Ziggy, 2/6/06

So we got off the plane in Chicago, and we had, like, 15 minutes to make our connecting flight because the plane from Tucson was late, and of course O’Hare is, like, mega-huge, and we hadn’t eaten anything (because they don’t feed you on the planes anymore because the crappy-ass food they used to serve was apparently expensive crappy-ass food) so we had to buy some second-rate pre-wrapped sandwiches that had lettuce and tomato on them and I don’t like lettuce and tomato on sandwiches (or at all, really, but even after picking them off the whole thing tasted kind of lettuce-and-tomato-y) and we had to run up moving walkways and down escalators and up more moving walkways and people wouldn’t get out of the way and then we ran up more escalators and finally got to our gate and it was only two minutes before the plane was supposed to take off and we got to our seats and then we sat down and whew and then we had to wait for the de-icing machines and sat. On. The. Tarmac. For. A. GODDAMN. HOUR.

So, what, I’m saying is, I know and you know that this Ziggy doesn’t make a single solitary iota of sense (“manages to land”? What the hell does that mean? Is it going to miss the ground and, like, stay in the air?) but after my Chicago hellscape this weekend, I appreciate its sentiment. Its the sort of cartoon I would have drawn, loopy from low blood sugar, while sitting in my too-narrow aisle seat, watching the de-icing apparatus slowly de-ice the wings — right after I drew some lovingly detailed pictures (complete with tasty odor lines) of the delicious, grease-laden, lettuce-and-tomato-free french fries I had intended to buy back when I thought my layover would be an hour long.

Post Content

Hey, what’s the perfect follow-up to a week of half-assed blogging? A week of no blogging at all, of course! Yes, we’re going on vacation in the lovely Southwest, where it’s warm warm warm, or at least not cold cold cold. Comics return on February 6.