Today’s Brewster Rockit (Tribune) got a chuckle but it brings up a topic I’ve been meaning to raise.
It’s no secret that newspapers are in deep trouble, in part because of changes in how people consume media but mostly because vulture capitalists decided to slaughter the goose so they wouldn’t have to wait for the golden eggs to be laid one day at a time.
As a result, cartoons and their creators are in not-so-great shape and it behooves those of us who like the medium to step up and, yes, upgrade to the premium plan. Not for every comic you read, but you should pick a few and help support them.
I’ve just posted a new copy of our list of cartoonists’ support sites here. Have a look and see if you can help some of your favorites keep on keepin’ on.
Meanwhile, cartoonists who have created Patreons, Substacks and other support sites for themselves should check to make sure they are on there and that their info is up-to-date. Let us know in the comments there if you want to be added or need an edit to an existing entry.
Now back to the show!
Speaking of Brewster Rockit, this past week featured a guest appearance by Laika, the Russian street dog who was sent into space in 1957 on Sputnik 2. The real story is sad, because there was as yet no means of safe re-entry and Laika died while in orbit.
However, that became a background and title theme for Lasse Hallstrom’s 1985 award-winning film, My Life as a Dog, about a young boy whose father is absent and whose mother is dying and who, himself, feels abandoned.
It sounds maudlin, but Hallstrom combined hilarity and tears in a highly memorable way. Here’s the trailer.
BTW, I didn’t describe Laika’s death as “tragic” because the word is overused by people who don’t know what it means. Aristotle wrote some dense stuff, but the Poetics were readable, and defining tragedy made the term far more significant than it sounds when thrown into every newscast by the hairspray brigade.
Existential Comics has a rare two-parter and I’d be reluctant to share the whole thing except that an excerpt would be incoherent and, besides, if you like this, you should have the site bookmarked, because the cartoons are consistently worthwhile.
The Apology was the first thing we read in seminar sophomore year, and it’s also taught in high school from time to time. It’s short, easy reading and is assigned for the same reason as To Kill a Mockingbird: You cannot possibly get the meaning wrong.
Though I notice that To Kill a Mockingbird has entered into “Hold My Beer” territory, with people insisting that you absolutely can get its message wrong if you really, really want to and are willing to try.
And I suppose if Dear Leader wins a second term, we’ll start executing people for corrupting youth by challenging them to think, and Socrates will find his works added to the banned books list.
Which won’t bother him because (A) he’s dead and (B) he didn’t write anything. And I’m willing to bet that most book-burners have never heard of Plato and think Lionel Hampton played the Xenophon.
Which is a joke. They’ve never heard of Lionel Hampton either.
I laughed at this Lockhorns (AMS) because if I’d written the gag, I’d have had to pause and make sure Beer Pong isn’t already recognized as an official Olympic sport. Just like I had to pause to find out if prancing around twirling ribbons is still an official Olympic sport.
Which it is, boyjazus. It even has its own logo or mascot or whatever.
Hang in, Leroy. Beer Pong will have its day.
Segueing into one of my unfulfilled marketing ideas, Speed Bump (Creators) brings up the notion of monogrammed underwear.
There was a time, O Best Beloved, when they marketed women’s underwear embroidered with the days of the week, so girls could wear Monday on Monday and so forth.
Or so I was told. I never saw it for myself because the kind of girl who felt compelled to do that was not the kind of girl who would let a guy see her underwear, which seems to undermine the whole point.
Anyway, counting on the sense of humor of the women who did let me see what they had on, or off, I had the idea of selling underpants that said January, February, March, April …
I’d have either made a fortune or I’d have wound up with a garage full of crates that didn’t weigh very much.
Paul Berge is saluting the 50th Anniversary of Tricky Dick’s departure from the White House with a fine collection of 1974 political cartoons on the subject.
This isn’t one of them; I offer it as a bonus because of its relation to the Washington Post’s uncovering of Tricky Don’s receipt of an illegal $10 million contribution from the Egyptian government.
And wotthehell, here’s another Herblock — this one from 1968 — for those who insist that the Democrats should have had a last-minute open primary, as a reminder of how well that worked when LBJ resigned and they beat the bushes, and their own children, in search of a replacement.
In this Moderately Confused (AMS), Jeff Stahler makes fun of a gas pump marketing thing that actually makes sense and does work, at least if you’re doing it right.
Irving offers a rewards card that you sweep as you would your credit or debit card, enter your four-digit passcode and get 10 cents a gallon off the price of gas. With gas close to $3.50 a gallon, that’s not a lot, but it’s enough to inspire brand loyalty, a worthy goal for their merchants.
The trick to all this is that, in applying for the card, you give them permission to directly debit your bank account. For you, it’s no different than using a debit card, but it saves them from paying the transaction fees.
Win-Win.
Granted, the place I go has a car wash, so, yes, they ask if I want a discounted wash, but at other Irving stations, it’s exactly the same as using a debit card.
It just costs less.
And that’s all right with me!
BP has a much simpler system: $.15/gallon off if you use their credit card at their pump (it’s a general use card now, not just limited to gas). And their app lets you do the entire setup even more automated, including an automatic receipt printout without asking.
I was thinking of that selfsame Herblock when I first heard about the proposal of a quickie primary rather than lining up behind Kamala. It’s one of his more classic cartoons.
Took a minute for that to click. They’re giving you the discount not because they’re avoiding the transaction fees at their gas stations but because they’re raking them in from your uses of the BP card at other merchants.
It’s all grocery store rewards cards here, no ACH (which terrifies me it’s so insecure and unprotected) or credit cards. Depending on your loyalty it’s up to $1 of a gallon.
During my way-too-long free-lance cartoonist career, I delved briefly into the comic-strip realm several times, but the most effort I put forth was when I was enlisted (on spec, naturally) by artist Sal Trapani (Dick Giordano’s brother-in-law, with plenty of credits in the ’50s and ’60s including co-creating Dell’s NUKLA and SUPER HEROES, who claimed to have current syndicate contacts) to try scripting his comic-strip idea, ADAM, SPACE CHIMP. His premise seemed uncommercial and not very well-thought out, so I reconceived it (story and art) to begin in the earliest days of NASA when monkeys were being sent into space, where Adam encountered benevolent aliens monitoring Earth for pure exploratory purposes, who rescued him from the inevitable fate of most animal astronauts, and then not only endowed Adam with human speech ability to communicate with him (realizing he’d grown up listening to American scientists with no means of proving his intelligence), but also partnered him with a particular fellow space traveler, an equally speech-provided Russian dog astronaut called Laika (they wound up teaching each other their countries’ language). During their time on the alien flying disc, Adam was exposed to U.S. television picked up by the saucer’s receivers, and Adam became a huge fan of ’50s TV, especially HAVE GUN WILL TRAVEL’s Paladin, enough to wear a huge white rook on his black-shirted spacesuit. Ultimately, the aliens offloaded the pair in the present to affect society in positive ways to be determined. After I wrote about three months’ continuity, Sal decided that I should adapt the story to comic-book format because he said his prospects seemed better there, and knowing that his 1980s comics career, despite his connections, was almost as sporadic and unsuccessful as mine, I knew that there would be no buyer for our collaboration in either fanciful destination. I thanked him for the experience and bid him good luck with the concept and whatever he wanted to use from my contribution. I’ve no idea whether he continued on with another writer–even with connections and a syndicate pick-up, late ’80s story strips like this usually failed within a year–or whether Laika was ever a part of the premise after I left. But in some parallel universe, Laika lives on as one of those short-term comic-strip characters remembered fondly by a few scattered comics fans of a certain age, born decades earlier than BREWSTER ROCKIT’s version.
I had to chortle as I read of your Monthly Underpants idea. This very gag is one of my all-time favorite Dad Jokes, and I just recently employed it when buying underwear at one of our local clothing chainstores. As I tossed three pairs of what are now apparently termed “boy-leg trunks” on the checkout counter, I told the young salesperson that these were for June, July and August.
I was pretty pleased with myself, but was soundly outplayed when after a sublimely-timed comedic beat she beamed at me and brightly replied, “Then you can bring them back! They have a 90-day guarantee.”
It’s not at all clear that LBJ would have done better against Nixon than Humphrey did. In fact, he almost certainly would have done worse. LBJ had an approval rating of 36% when he dropped out in March 1968.
On the other hand, Humphrey came very close to winning, and probably would have won easily if LBJ would have stopped the bombing sooner.
But sure, the mistake the Democrats made in 1968 was holding an open primary. Definitely not the war.
Thanks to Nixon screwing up the Peace Talks behind the scenes, yes. And then doubling the number of names on the Wall before finally doing what LBJ had been planning.
When LBJ made his speech, peace seemed possible under the right leadership, which LBJ and everyone knew required a new hand on the tiller. Things were promising enough that Mobe leaders were on the brink of calling off the demonstrations when, in the words of Abbie Hoffman, “Sirhan Sirhan stepped up and it was a whole new ballgame.”
Though, of course, it was the same old ballgame, and I don’t think voters liked watching Dan Rather mugged on the Convention floor or young people being beaten bloody in the streets or Daley refusing to seat delegates he didn’t like. And a lot of them didn’t think putting LBJ’s mascot in the Big Chair was a fair swap.
Close as the election was, the notion that Chicago had no impact is awfully hard to defend.
Thank you for your mention of My Life as a Dog–it’s my favorite film and I’m always happy to hear that someone else has heard of it.
Thanks for the link today!
I had intentionally omitted Herblock’s Nixon cartoons from my post, since he wrote the definitive book of them himself. (So too Paul Conrad for similar reasons.) It’s a worthy addition to any cartoonist’s library.