CSotD: Ceci n’est pas politique

I’m not in a political mood today, but I’ll feature this Carpe Diem (KFS) because I’m pretty sure that, since Niklas Eriksson lives in Sweden and his panel is not political, his lead time was significant and this is a coincidence.

I wouldn’t run it if I thought he were drawing a fist-bump cartoon not out of sincere political conviction but simply from a cynical, mercenary desire to sell something shallow but topical to fad-obsessed editorial page clients.

I mean, who would do such a thing?

 

Though, even though I’m not in the mood for politics, I’ll give Gene Weingarten et cie credit for today’s Barney and Clyde (WPWG) which comments with little danger of being overtaken by events.

If anything, the impact of the cartoon has been serendipitously enhanced in the three weeks since SCOTUS limited the EPA’s reach by the heat wave crisis that has sprung up.

 

I suppose it works to the benefit of non-political cartoonists that we’ve reached a point of constant crisis combined with partisan gridlock, so that this David Sipress New Yorker cartoon could have been submitted a week ago or three months ago and would still be fresh and sharp and relevant.

Though bear in mind that, while a TV news anchor may report that nobody is doing anything about anything that you wanted them to do something about, and even if it is echoed throughout the Intertubes, that doesn’t make it definitive.

 

He may not be Judge John Sirica, but he’s certainly not Attorney General John Mitchell or Attorney General William Barr, either.

 

Meanwhile, this Non Sequitur (AMS) only needs a tweak or two in order to serve as a reminder to watch the Jan 6 Committee hearings this evening.

 

But no politics. Let’s segue into other judicial topics with a Reply All (WPWG) that brings to mind my experience as a judge, not of the Sirica or Judy kind, but of the pie-eating contest at the Franklin Fair in Farmington, Maine, once upon a time.

As editor of the local paper, I shouldn’t have been in such a potentially partisan position, but, at the time, I was also the interim publisher and so it was incumbent upon me to show the flag and scarf down some pretty fabulous pie.

I was also pressured to go over to the Methodist Women’s booth where one of my “Little Old Lady” columnists — the lifeblood of small newspapers — was putting in time.

The Methodist Women’s booth was renowned for the best lobster rolls in our part of Maine, which is saying something.

Note that, since I dropped by in my capacity of editor, I was ethically bound to pay for my own lunch.

 

Politics — in this case, sexual politics — intrude even on the most innocent of gags. This Half Full (AMS) got a laugh, but then drew me into some contemplation, because its joyous celebration of summer relies in large part on it being the work of a woman, Maria Scrivan.

Guys ought not to throw even variations of that word around, and, just as there are jokes that African American and Latino cartoonists can make that the rest of us can’t, the increasing presence of women cartoonists on the funny pages has added depth in a formerly shallow pool.

Yes, a pool. Right there at the beach.

 

Speaking of puns on words we didn’t used to see in the comics, here’s Zits (KFS) continuing their envelope-pushing tradition.

There was a kerfuffle several years ago, when Jeremy expressed his dislike for having to mow the lawn by carving out “This Sucks” in the grass, and King Features had to send out a “This Stinks” alternative for papers that needed it.

IIRC, that was before Lola caused a stir in 2000 by opining that grandchildren are like farts in that you can only stand your own. DD Degg covered the topic earlier this year.

I was going to say that Jeremy’s folks probably dressed like that for their wedding, but then realized that, no, it would have been Jeremy’s grandparents who went for the Edwardian wedding fad of the ’70s, which has apparently now resurfaced like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction.

 

We’re none of us getting any younger. Candorville (WPWG) brought back the horror of the day my son’s class had a ’50s day, so I attempted to show him what a ducktail looked like, only to discover, as Lemont did with his fade, that my pomp wouldn’t pomp anymore.

I can still, technically, do the ducktail, but there aren’t any feathers on top of the poor bird.

Ah well. I can still help if the kids have an Uncle Fester Day.

 

Wallace the Brave (AMS)‘s dad will one day discover that kids believe you despite the fact that you are telling them something you expect them to take as a joke.

This is on a par with some of the tall tales I told my boys in hopes of making them giggle, only to find years later that they had believed me.

Although, in my defense, the fact that I swapped our dogs’ names into my renditions of “Ob Bla Di Bla Da” and “Rocky Raccoon” was not a claim of authorship, however much discovering the truth may have let them down.

It could have been worse.

 

Arlo warned us about this 21 years ago, which was way too late for me but might have tipped off Wallace’s dad.

 

And here’s a depressing piece from Joy of Tech. I have begun to really hate Facebook, but I need my professional account to drive traffic and I keep my personal account chiefly because nobody in my family under 40 answers their phones or reads their email.

Twitter is better: It’s fairly easy to curate your feed to eliminate trolls, while the ads are better targeted and fewer people post food shots.

I’ve noticed that some people — particularly professional athletes — have some kind of app that automatically retweets anything they’re mentioned in, which sometimes means they’re retweeting snarky criticism instead of fan praise.

But here’s a day-brightener:

It also means they see random Tweets like this, and, if one of them happens to be one of the best people in the world …

 

Life’s not so bad after all, y’know?