Stuffed and Stuff

(For making the picture so much bigger, click it now)

Today's Bizarro is brought to you by Natural Selection. "Hey, wimp – come here!"

My favorite thing about drawing this cartoon was deciding what stuffed animals would be sacrificed. Hello Kitty was a must, of course, because that hydrocephalic (as one of this blog's commentators called her) feline has always given me the willies. I have nothing against muppets, however, Kermit and Elmo were chosen entirely because of their celebrity. In fact, Elmo was suggested by my intern, Greg, as I recall. I also threw in the Bizarro Bunny, because it's my cartoon and I can do what I want, dammit.

In Britain, this comic would have an entirely different connotation. "Stuffed" in the land of bangers and mash means what "f#cked" does to those of us in the land of burgers and fries. An angry driver in London might yell, "Get stuffed!" or "Go stuff yourself!"

Remember that next time you're visiting relatives for Thanksgiving. It makes the after dinner conversation with Aunt Ruby so much more amusing.

Cheeks

Today's Bizarro cartoon is brought to you by Taboos and Interdictions International.

Here is another cartoon that never appeared in Bizarro. As uppity as most of us Americans were about the offense that some Muslims took to the Danish cartoon featuring Mohammed, there are similar attitudes against cartoons about Jesus in this country.

Most comics editors will allow cartoons about god, angels, Satan, Buddha, Hindu gods, etc., but Jesus is off limits. This isn't a stated policy, they just know that large numbers of their readership will go ballistic and they'll lose time dealing with their protestations, so they decline the gag and ask for a replacement.

I'm not a fan of any religion because, to put it simply, I think they make people crazy. (Believing in invisible people with magic powers isn't what you could really call "not crazy.") Many of the wars fought throughout human history would not have occurred were it not for religion, most terrorist acts are committed in the name of religion, and without religion, you'd be hard-pressed to find a volunteer for a suicide mission.

There is no answer to this, of course. You can outlaw it, but it wouldn't change the human need to see patterns and ascribe meaning. There is a part of us that is crazy and will never be anything else.

Meanwhile, how funny would it be if a boxer believed in turning the other cheek? Hahahahaha!

Sandy Eggo Commy Con

Imagine 525,701 square feet of interior space crammed to the gills with chattering primates dressed as monsters, spacemen, toys, food, animals, heroes, villains, murderers, entertainers, historical figures, and nerds. Now imagine paying a lot of money to wait in line in the sun for hours to shuffle amongst them. That's pretty much the Comic Con.

There are also millions of really cool products to peruse and buy.

This year was my third trip the the world's biggest comics convention in the past five years. It was a typical experience, if one can such a thing about such an unnatural event. Here are some of my thoughts and pictures.



Paralyzed with fear as I prepare to cross the street onto the convention center's grounds. I waited through three lights, breathing deeply and reciting a mantra. That didn't work, so I took a couple of big swigs from my flask and headed in.














Since I'm a professional cartoonist, I get to walk past the line to get in, which is a true blessing
on a hot, muggy day like this one. You can't imagine the smell of a person in a Wookie suit after they've baked in the sun for an hour.

Out front I ran into what appeared to be the human embodiment of the continent of Africa. I asked him what his costume was supposed to be and he said, "Basically, I just always dress like this." Why not?


Unlike the first comic book convention I went to in the late 80s, there is currently no shortage of good-looking women and at these events. Here is a woman attempting quite successfully to restore my affection for America in the wake of the Neo-Con Invasion. Her boyfriend is not a ballet dancer, as I assumed from his tights, but something called a "Batman." He denied having sonar, eating insects, or pooping upside down, so I'm not sure where the "bat" part comes in.





This young woman claimed to be representing the season of autumn, and yet nothing about her suggested impending death or dormancy. A friend of mine said he wanted to wait until her leaves fell off and I reprimanded him severely.


This fetching lass didn't really know what her costume was about, but she was a Bizarro fan and wanted to take a picture with me. Having lost my soul to photography years ago, I have no fear of snapshots and relented. After, she gave me her business card, which was a color photo on both sides of her posing pin-up style on a bed, clad only in a thong, her name and contact info below. I asked what the card had to do with her business – if she was a model or exotic dancer for instance – but she assured me that she was nothing of the sort. "That's just my card."


One of my favorite costumes this year was this sexy, big-headed cat with oven mitts. She didn't speak a lot of English, but had apparently practiced saying "hello" to herself and had that down pat.





These two did not arouse my patriotism as well as the "Batman's" girlfriend did, but they were exceptionally sincere and assured me that they still believe elections in this country are fair and honest. This kind of youthful idealism is always so inspiring.







This deformed, hairless child broke my heart and I could not resist kissing him. (or her) His/her reaction was minimal, but I think I detect a smile.















No super villain-themed event would be complete without an animatronic of Rush Limbaugh. It was kind of them to place a bowl for those conventioneers who, like me, could not keep their lunch down at the sight of him.














An embarrassing thing happened mid afternoon when a creature that I think is supposed to be one of the Golden Girls stole my hat.

















Fortunately, a kooky ninja-borderguard-cable-repairman guy got it back from her (him, it?) but then refused to give it back to me.














Eventually, these two un-costumed super heroes retrieved my hat by pointing into the distance and yelling, "It's William Shatner!" at which point the nerdo negra took off running and my hat flew off.


Safely back to my table, I sold books, Bizarro Trading Cards, personalized sketches, prints and some of my old Led Zeppelin 8 track tapes that I no longer listen to. All of these products, with the exception of the 8 track tapes which sold out, can be found here.

Ouch

Bizarro is brought to you today by Victims International. "If anyone does anything to anyone for any reason, they do it to us."

As I knew it would, this cartoon got a bit of negative mail from people who wanted to defend the dyslexic. But I am not attacking dyslexic people, just poking fun. In today's "PC" society (this kind not this kind), there is no longer a distinction.

To recognize a minority is to ridicule it, to tease is to attack. Humorists hate the PC movement because it cuts the feet out from under satire.

Not all Americans are incapable of distinguishing between comedy and carnage, however. I suspect that many of us understand that the value of laughing at ourselves sometimes outweighs the importance of protecting our feelings.

Not that I need street cred to draw a cartoon like this, but I've got dyslexia in my own family and have had a few friends who suffer from it. As far as I know, they all have the sense of humor to laugh at this cartoon and their predicament, rather than fire off a letter to me about my insensitivity. Humor is an age-old means by which humans deal with tragedy, ill fortune, discomfort of all kinds. I think we should be careful about condemning that impulse for the sake of would-be victims of hurt feelings.

Pool of Death

Today's Bizarro is brought to you by the fine people at Styx Limousine Service. "We'll see you across the river in style." (previous, less popular motto: "Just shut up and get back in the box, you stiff.")

The Grim Reaper is a popular cartoon subject for good reason. A lot can be said about the human condition by the way we are escorted to the "other side."

This cartoon doesn't say anything about that, however, it's just a simple twist on the Bergman motif of playing chess with Death. (Or was it Pictionary? It's been a long time since I've seen that film.)

A reader emailed me when this ran and asked, "Why is the guy worried? The Grim Reaper is going to chop himself in the back as soon as he shoots."

Good point. But GR is already dead, so the worst that could happen is he rips his nightgown and maybe whacks his neck out of joint a bit. Nothing a chiropractor and a tailor couldn't fix.

Check out my fancy coloring job on the human's face as it fades behind the table light. It gives a sense of depth, right? These are the little extras you get from Bizarro that most features don't bother with. I spare no expense to pamper and entertain you, my precious reader.

All I really want in life is the approval of strangers.
Your devoted cartoonist pal,
P

Three to Read for Late July

* all kinds of stuff: Owen Fitzgerald and His Descendants (via Dirk)

* Dave Ex Machina: “When Fascism Comes to America it Will be Wrapped in White Plastic Armor and Carrying a BlasTech E-11 Blaster Rifle” — Sinclair Lucas (via Kevin)

* San Diego Union-Tribune: The comic chronicles, a la Ariel Schrag – it's the story of her life in high school (via Dirk)

Jail Bait

Today's Bizarro is brought to you by Double Entendre Wine.

This is a gag that would not have flown 15 years ago. Newspapers have always been very conservative about the kind of humor that appears on their comics pages. I can't blame them, they know that children read the comics and many parents don't want to be faced with answering what they consider to be difficult or embarrassing questions over the breakfast table. I'm happy to report, however, that in recent years they have loosened their standards somewhat.

I was always honest with my daughters, no matter what they asked, and found that they always accepted my answers casually and moved on unharmed. Contrary to what many parents fear, children do not become promiscuous because they know what sex is, or homosexual because they are aware of its existence, or drug addicts because someone explained to them what marijuana was when they were "too young." Knowledge of a behavior or lifestyle is not what makes a person choose that path for themselves.

More simply, what I've always wondered is why a parent feels they must answer a question they are not comfortable with. If my precocious 3-year-old asked me what this cartoon was about and I didn't want to go to the trouble to explain the concept of penis envy, I'd just say, "I'm not sure. I don't get it either." I suspect that 100% of children would then say, "oh," and forget about it. This seems like a much more logical approach to the situation than writing to the newspaper editor about how offended you were that such a pun was included in the comics page. Choose your battles, that's all I'm saying. And be honest with your kids, then have faith that they'll make good decisions. That's another thing I'm saying.

I did this with my kids and both of them are well adjusted, productive adults. At least they were before they went to prison and I have no reason to believe they won't be when they get out.