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.

Guest Cartoonist

I normally don't write about Bizarro cartoons until they are a week old, but I want to address the "guest cartoonist" situation going on this week in newspapers a across the globe.

For a syndicated cartoonist responsible for 365 new cartoons per year, for as long as his/her career lasts, there are no vacations. For us to have time off, we have to write twice as many jokes for a given amount of time, draw, color, and format twice as many images, then rush out the door. When we get home, we race to catch up again because we used all our available ideas to get out the door, but now x amount of new ones are due again. It's a white-hot hell.

Some cartoonists will publish reruns, but unless your feature is widely considered indispensable, like Doonesbury or Peanuts, editors don't like to publish reruns and will frequently sub your feature out for someone else's, either permanently or until you get back to work. The market is so competitive these days that a smart cartoonist doesn't dare let that happen. Some syndication companies just ban the practice entirely.

Recently, some artists have gone to the "guest artist" system, which is a great alternative. I get my much-needed time off, another artist gets some exposure, the readers get a glimpse of a new artist they might otherwise have never come across.

Francesco Marciuliano, whom I chose as my sub this week, is a good friend and a brilliant and prolific humorist. The guy writes Sally Forth (I know, it's not typically at the top of a Bizarro reader's list, but read it a few times and see if he doesn't do an amazing job of breathing life into what is essentially a formula family strip) an Emmy-winning children's show for cable (can't remember the name of it – Binky and Floofloo? Invisible Playmate in My Pants? How Drunk is Uncle Rick?), as well as a clever blog, brilliantly funny essays, and a fair amount of stand-up comedy. My own personal favorite of Ces' myriad accomplishments, however, is his online comic, Medium Large. All of this, and he's as quiet and humble as a church mouse. And almost as furry.

Hope you like what Ces (pronounced: chez) did for this week. I'll be commenting on them daily next week. Here's one that didn't make the cut. (must be over 16 to read this one)

Be groovy, be well, B vitamins.

Piercing Limits

(click to enlargerate)

Today's Bizarro is brought to you by Back At Headquarters. "It's good to be home!"

Just got back from the San Diego Comic Con and a couple of parties in L.A. I'll blog about those later.

For now, here is a dandy little cartoon ditty from Sunday a week ago. I like this idea and am happy with the drawing, but I'm wishing now that I'd made the car keys on his ear more obvious, or drawn them differently somehow. They could get lost in some of the newspapers where they print Bizarro small.

Which brings up a pet peeve: why do so many papers put Garfield all huge and monumental on the front page of their Sunday pages, then relegate cartoons like mine, with elaborate art and relatively complex ideas (that's not saying much for newspaper comics) to smaller bits of real estate deeper in the section? Garfield is simply drawn, commercially produced by a committee of trained surrogates, and read primarily by small children who have yet to develop critical skills capable of discerning much beyond the texture of their SpahettiOs. If I ran a newspaper comics section, I'd feature art and commentary by artists who aren't phoning in their work from their corporate jet. But that's just me.

On another subject, I'm a guy with tatts (six) and piercings (one in each ear) and who appreciates any attempt at individuality. I will admit, however, that those whose number of piercings rival the number of their skin pores, disturb me just a bit. I'm particularly disturbed by people who have something the size of an SUV's hubcaps crammed into a flaccid loop of flesh at the bottom of their ear. I'm a little squeamish about the human body in general and deliberate deformities creep me out a bit. Tongue piercings creep me out even more. It just looks like it would hurt.

Tattoos hurt and I have no aversion to those, so I guess I'm just being a baby. We all have our reservations and limits, I guess.