The Old Sandy Swimsuit Gag

Bizarro is brought to you today by Tough Guys on Tables.

Most of my cartoons just come out of some random knothole in my mind, but this is one of those rare ones that is drawn from my own life. My brother, Gavin, and I used to pull this gag on tourists all the time on the beaches near our childhood home in Burkina Faso.

It was enough of a challenge to build a sand-art replica of the sleeping sunbather without awakening him or her, but real skill was required in getting their bathing suit off and covering them in sand. We developed a technique similar to the way Indiana Jones replaced the jewel with the sack of sand all in one move. It worked for us a good 80% of the time.

I haven't tried this gag in years. I'm probably no longer fast enough to assure my escape should the victim awaken at an inopportune time, but I encourage those of you with a good set of wheels and a mischievous streak to give it a go.

Christmas Covers - December 1

It's time once again for our annual Christmas Covers event: twenty-five more comic covers with a holiday theme, in our little virtual comic book advent calendar.

Hover over the image to reveal today's cover, and click on it to see the larger-sized version. (If you're on a feed reader you may need to click through to the blog to get it to work.)

To kick things off, we have the cover to 1955's Christmas Carnival!

Come back tomorrow, and every day this month, for a new Christmas cover.

Just 24 more 'get-ups' until Santa!

(2007: Comic Cavalcade #5)
(2006: Justice League Unlimited #16)
(2005: Walt Disney's Christmas Parade #3)
(2004: Limited Collectors' Edition #C-34)

(Polite Dissent's 2008 Comic Book Cover Advent Calendar)

More SF Bay Area Appearances

I have some dandy gigs coming up in the San Fran area this week and next. Check this crazy link for details and come see me in person. I'm so lifelike, you almost won't believe it! Plus, I'll be funny and friendly and sign books for you which you can give as gifts, thus making you look as cool as the other side of the pillow this holiday season.
















Who wouldn't want to meet this dapper fellow?

Preaching

Bizarro is brought to you today by Holidays of the Future.

Each year I am nauseated by the hypocritical practice of pardoning a turkey at Thanksgiving. As legend has it, Lincoln started this because his son had become attached to a turkey living on the White House grounds and didn't want to see it killed. Now modern-day presidents do it with a smirk on their face and a wink to the crowd.

The latest Palin debacle last week was among the most egregious "pardons" in recent memory. While she interviewed on camera afterward, a local yocal was slaughtering turkeys ten feet behind her. The media jumped on this as a foolish and insensitive thing to do, and it was, but who are we kidding? In spite of the pocketful of turkeys who are pardoned by various politicians each year, millions of turkeys meet their painful death for this day of "thanks" and season of "peace on earth."

I know that most Americans do not share my views on the rights of all animals to live a life free of unnatural molestation (a mouse dying at the hands of a cat is natural, billions of animals confined in cages and crates being butchered alive each year for the sake of human taste buds and profit is not) but why are we so careful to spare ourselves the sight of our actions? If you're going to eat these creatures, have the integrity to watch some videos of the process they endure and you subsidize. Then get to know one in an unstressed environment, like a sanctuary, and tell me you still feel entitled to torture them to death for a few moments of sensory pleasure. (Especially when there are delicious alternatives.) These animals are sensitive, affectionate, individual beings who know fear, pain, love, grief, comfort and terror. Just like you.

"It's natural. They aren't like us. That's what they're here for. It's tradition. It's always been this way. The economy depends on it."
Exactly what most white Americans would have said about slavery and African Americans 200 years ago. Tradition is no excuse for abuse.

Sorry for the rant, this season of hypocracy brings out the worst in me. I promise the next post will be about humor.

Out of Many, One

Bizarro is brought to you today by Disappointing Dreams.

As a child, I was convinced of this sort of cliche image of the gates of Heaven, where your entire body is admitted to the Big Party or sent to eternal torture based on your status on an ambiguous list somewhere. The overall principle was that my passage beyond the ultimate velvet rope had nothing to do with how bad or good I was, as long as I believed in Jesus and asked forgiveness before I died. But when they weren't promoting that simple formula, which was most of the time, they were convincing me of how important it was to be good everyday or I wouldn't get into Heaven. It was confusing, but then all effective systems of mind control have an element of confusion involved, so the subject never knows exactly where they stand and never feels completely comfortable.

So if you believe in this kind of Heaven and manage to pass the ambiguous criteria, you may well run into a person missing a major organ, having received a transplant from an unbeliever.

Before the theologians among you start bombarding me with doctrine, I'm kidding. I know the basic tenets of most of the major religions and none of them include provisions for organ donor recipients or creatures pieced together from various dead bodies by mad scientists. I'm sure whoever you are and whatever you believe, it will all turn out just as you suppose once you're dead.

Friday Night Fights: Iron First vs. Steel Serpent

From Marvel Team-Up #63 (1977). Pencils by John Byrne. Inks & colors by Dave Hunt. Letters by John Costanza. Story by Chris Claremont. (click pic for larger)

Ka-Pow? Kak! Wham! Brow!

Pretentious Pug

Bizarro is brought to you today by Celebrity RVs.

I like this cartoon a lot. I'm happy with the way the drawing turned out and there's something about the simple absurdity of the joke that makes me laugh. Of course, I'm a sucker for a dog in a sweater, as long as it isn't made of animal products. (I don't understand the concept of treating your own like gold and to hell with everyone else.)

I may begin wearing an ascot and smoking a pipe, myself. Nobody does that anymore. I had an art history professor in the mid seventies who donned that gay apparel, but he may have been the last one.

My eldest daughter, Krapuzar, wore a smoking jacket and ascot in her high school senior picture, and wielded a meerschaum pipe. She cocked her eyebrow arrogantly and tilted her head in a fashion reminiscent of a pretentious author's photo from the 1920s. Very funny pic, wish I could find it to share with you.