CSotD: Let’s not get serious for a moment …
Skip to comments
I was going to open with all the reasons we might better put the heaving mess aside for the day, but decided instead to simply put the heaving mess aside for the day, and rise, instead, on a point of personal privilege, because …
Johanna Draper Carlson reports that "Dennis the Menace in Hawaii" is being released as a hardbound reprint, and I'm so happy to hear it that I'll even give her the Amazon bonus link for anyone who wants to buy a copy, instead of re-linking it for my own benefit.
Here's the thing: I got this comic when it first came out in 1958 and treasured it, so I can understand why, as she reports, it remained in print for years. And I may pick up a copy for a grandchild, since I've been peppering them with oldies as part of who Grandpa is.
Meanwhile, Johanna's write-up links to a reprint of the comic for you cheapskates or people like me who can't wait.
Every time I have gotten on a plane with a small child, or even been near someone on a plane with a small child, the words of Henry Mitchell come back to me.
It's also a rush to see how small passengers were catered to in the olden days, because a year later we flew from the East Coast to California on a jet and, yes, I got to see the cockpit, got some little wings and we were even given a set of Colorforms to keep us entertained on the flight.
Also, I learned about barking sands from this comic, which came in handy in college when we went to the Michigan Dunes which feature them, too. (The dunes may not seem as colorful as Hawaii, but they certainly appeared so in the 60s.)
All of which are reasons I liked the comic, but it's 100 pages, so you could probably find some of your own.
Speaking of flying …
I'd guess Carpe Diem creator Niklas Eriksson has taken a trip recently, because for the past two days, he's hit us with airline jokes that are not from back in the days of Colorforms and cockpit tours.
The first gag is that, of course, the fellow would simply claim it was a Therapy Elephant and could ride alongside him.
However, I'm assuming Eriksson is taking a shot at the nitwits who bring on steamer trunks under the apparent impression that having wheels magically makes a suitcase of any dimensions fit into the glove compartments jokingly referred to as overhead storage.
Or perhaps they realize that the rest of us are paying to have our bags checked while they'll get gate-checked for free.
It's been 20 years since the airlines have lost my bags, but knock wood, and my rule is to bring as carry-on anything you can't live without for 24 hours.
That's become easier for business travel since the laptop was invented and even easier with the introduction of thumbdrives, not to mention the slimming of exhibit booths from garbage cans on rollers to a tablecloth and a fishing rod.
You can even transmit your print files to be printed at the site of the convention in order to avoid having to pack flyers.
In short, there's little excuse for elephants.
As for the Limbo Airways security check, that simply cracked me up.
It's getting easier to be pre-screened, but you should also contrast the handy connections from a major airport with the ease of access at a smaller regional airport, both parking and the length of the security lines.
Granted, I live out in the country, which means I get a much wider choice of airports to drive to. I suppose if you live in a major metro, it doesn't make a lot of sense to drive an hour — another hour — to avoid the lines.
Here's a handy hint for any airport: Get old, since then you no longer have to strip down, though this is an advantage that doesn't last as long as you might wish.
I get patted down every time anyway, because I now have a urostomy bag, and, no, they don't make you empty it out on the spot like a water bottle.
But they do run a chemical swab across it to make sure you're not pissing nitroglycerin.
Rest easy, America: The Pee Bomber will not get through!
Now this dark comedy workshop:
That lighthearted talk about ostomies reminds me that, at the AAEC convention, fellow cancer-survivor Ed Hall (who got away without one, damn him) and I were waiting for the shuttle to come take us back to the hotel and started comparing stories of our escapes from death.
We began really laughing it up over the odd things that occurred to each of us in the course of what was probably kind of terrifying, I suppose, though when you're in the starring role, you should really just keep maintaining and let everyone else be terrified for you.
Another cartoonist came up and wasn't able to quite get into our hilarity, though he did laugh over the pianist who, hired to make the hospital less foreboding, was sitting outside the cancer section playing "You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone."
Anything can be funny, and — as brilliantly modeled here in the classic Mary Tyler Moore episode, "Chuckles Bites the Dust" — sometimes the laughter is loudest when the subject is the most solemn.
For the past month, Sally Forth has been literally a deathwatch for Ted's father, a no-laughs storyline based on writer Francesco Marciulano's own loss of his dad last year.
Artist Jim Keefe blogged about the final piece and how he and Ces worked together to get the mood and moment right.
Well, not the final piece, because this morning, Ces hits us with this follow, which starts in the solemn mood of the arc, but, in the final panel, touches off a Chuckles-worthy fit of giggling, because god I hate Bing, which always reminds me of …
Your moment of Zen
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.
Comments 1