CSotD: Friday Funnies
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Heart is a cute little kid whose irrepressible pretensions are adorable. One of my favorite strips.
Because she's about seven years old.
By junior high, it becomes silly.
If it persists into adulthood, we're talking delusional and creepy.
The unseen driver at the end is that guy, getting the hell out of town but now with the germ of a novel in mind.
Speaking of novels, Gary Clement offers a tribute to a novelist, in place of an obituary cartoon.
I heard newscasters refer to Roth as "a great novelist" in announcing his death, which didn't sit well, because I reserve that adjective for the timeless giants and I think it takes a couple of generations to prove out.
But he was certainly a terrific, important and massively influential novelist.
You could do worse. And this is a nice, small, personal compliment to him.
The Catch
The Lockhorns takes me back half a century, to a world of landlines and charges for long-distance calls.
When I was living in a big house in Boulder, the issue of phone charges came up regularly at house raps. It was easy to tell when someone called home, but "Who called Toledo?" questions were omnipresent and often unanswered.
So someone suggested we put in a payphone, a familiar parental threat in those days, but, in our case, a serious proposition.
The catch, we learned, was that the phone would have to be immediately accessible to the public. We could put it on the front lawn, but not inside.
In case you ever wondered.
And you may not have. One of my young writers is named Sylvia, and so, at a workshop, I greeted her and her mom and made a reference to "Sylvia's Mother," which neither of them were familiar with.
I emailed them a link to both the Dr. Hook recording and this piece on the origins of the song, which delighted and satisfied Sylvia because, while she hadn't known about long-distance toll calls, she liked the song and was very much aware of Shel Silverstein.
We connect where we can these days.
Juxtaposition of Generational Humor
(Brevity)
(F-Minus)
I'm trying to come to grips with the fact that the world is no longer catering to my demographic, but, while I wish Netflix was more aware that "Caddyshack" is not a classic film, I'm okay with stepping aside and letting the bulge in the bell curve pass me by.
Still, one difference is that, in my day, we took the line from the song, "Doing things we used to do, they think are new" as a sentimental reference to small, innocent children. We did not realize that, once they 'discovered' these things, they'd announce them as "Life Hacks" and take such great pride in a process that — as Marianne Faithful sang — has been part of adulting since before adulting was a word.
It works both ways: There's currently a burst of chit-chat on-line about how these youngsters don't know how to boil water, which is also a load of timeless hooey. Not many of my generation set out knowing much about cooking either.
But we had a clue and I think it's because of two factors: One is that we had fewer latch-string children in our generation, and, two, those of us with parents at home had fewer distractions to lure us away from them. Not only did we not have TVs in our rooms and in our hands, but people didn't schedule a million meetings and practices and other things to keep families from ever eating together.
Which meant that, while we didn't necessarily know how to cook something, we'd seen it done. Part of our daily lives included hanging around the kitchen while dinner was made.
I placed a lot of those long-distance toll calls in my 20s, asking Mom for the details on particular recipes, and then my kids did the same when they got out on their own, but we knew the basic steps. We just needed to know the specific measurements and spices.
I'm sorry current youngsters missed out on that, but, come on, gang: When you figure out how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, don't put it up on-line as if you'd discovered radium.
For further reading
I got my copy of Terri Libenson's hybrid "Positively Izzy" and can recommend it both for any middleschool kids in your orbit and for you, too.
Combined with her first book, "Invisible Emmie," Libenson has established a style not so much of O.Henry or Guy de Maupassant, because her surprise endings aren't ironic.
They're more along the line of "The Sixth Sense" where it all appears to make sense and then there is a big "Wait a minute! What?" reveal that sharpens things to an intense focus and changes the entire premise.
And that — like "The Sixth Sense" — sends you back again to figure out how you missed it the first time around.
Good, thoughtful stuff that will stick with you, which certainly isn't always the case in this genre.
Or get some books here
The National Cartoonist's Society is having their Big Do this weekend in Philadelphia, including handing out Reubens and all that insider stuff, but is holding a public event Sunday that, if you are within driving distance, looks like a worthwhile trip.
I'm about six hours out and so probably won't make it, but, if it were only four, I'd be there for sure. And I'm not positive that I won't give it a shot anyway.
That's a lot of really good artists in one place.
Slow Children Playing
I'm not supposed to deal with politics on Fridays, but Mark Streeter's cartoon beautifully satirizes Dear Leader's childish, semi-literate letter and overall inability to behave like an adult.
Since I started today by mocking young women who should have outgrown self-important pretension in the third grade, why not end things with a bit of musical scorn for self-centered, immature male cowards?
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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