Humor on a Temporary Delay
We're not doing politics today, but I've seen so many Thelma and Louise themed political cartoons, and I'm so sick of Elon Musk, that Toro's putting them together made me laugh.
At least the Delorean could be retrofitted as a time machine.
Speaking of movies, this would make a truly horrifying one, but even as a cartoon, it's disturbing enough. This would make Gahan Wilson cringe.
Mind you, I think that's a good thing.
We're going to have Halloween comics for the next week and a half, but it's nice to have ones that are a little brainy. The best part about this is that, even if you've never read a word of Shakespeare, it still works as a chuckle, but, of course, it's even better if you catch the reference.
Even if you are too literate and smart not to assume that this is John Cleese and he hasn't gotten better yet.
Another Halloween standard -- the parents eating the candy -- made fresh by Whamond's assumption that she never had any other intention.
My apartment is at the back of the house, so I don't get many trick-or-treaters and often none at all, so I make no pretense of buying candy for them. I just get something I like and keep some in case any kids show up.
Even Bernie walked by a few years ago, and he was running for office.
First Dog on the Moon
It was a bit unusual to have NBC news shooting video outside my dooryard -- my kids got a major hoot out of the nationally televised snub -- but First Dog reminds us that someone is always watching.
My response hasn't changed: The more they collect, the less chance they have of narrowing it down to me. My experience in the Sixties was that not only does the nail that sticks up get hammered, but it's got to stick way, way up because the wielders of hammers are surprisingly inept.
I suppose AI is going to make it much easier for them to sort through all the data they amass, but they still have to know what they're looking for. In 1970, I lived next door to a Black militant anarchist heroin dealer and nobody bothered him even when he fired a .44 Magnum at a junk car in his backyard to see if it would really penetrate a motor block.
He eventually got busted trying to get on a plane with a gym bag full of stolen guns, not by the feds but by the stewardesses, who weren't even flight attendants back then. Hang your head, J. Edgar.
Speaking of stewardi, as we were, I have respect for flight attendants, in part because they really are versed in safety procedures and have been known to intervene in emergencies, and in part because their job really sucks given the number of entitled jackasses they run into.
I've known a few flight attendants and I've known a few cheerleaders and I knew a cheerleader who became a flight attendant. But the cheerleaders I've known were at college, and when we weren't in class or hanging out on the quad, they stood in front of the student section where we could see them. We joined in the cheers because they were our buds.
Have you ever been to an NFL game? The cheerleaders are like ants somewhere down there on the sidelines. You can barely see them and you can't hear them. Cheerleaders used to serve as eye candy for the TV cameras, but now that they have instant replay, they rarely switch to the cheerleaders between plays.
And I doubt very much that cheerleaders motivate the players, who, as Loretta says, are in a whole other income bracket and certainly have a great deal more on their minds on game day.
When the players do charity in the community, the cheerleaders sometimes come along to hand out whatever is being handed out, but I'll bet the kids would rather meet the players, and, besides, the players' wives seem to be taking over a lot of the auxiliary presence on those projects.
I have no idea what function cheerleaders fulfill anymore.
I usually enjoy the way Frazz and Caulfield take old concepts apart, but the question today is whether I have a problem with this one because they got it wrong or because it's a favorite concept of mine. Either way, I'm sure they got it wrong.
The phrase -- popularized by Obama -- means that if you wait for a perfect solution, you'll miss the chance to try something good, the point being that perfection is impossible, and so you'll never find it and, meanwhile, you fail to improve the situation at all.
Good isn't the enemy of perfect any more than horses are the enemy of unicorns. If you want to ride, take the horse rather than waiting for a unicorn. The unicorn is a mythical beast.
James Thurber proved that, more or less.
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