CSotD: Cloudy with a Chance of Goofballs

There are lots of important things going on in the world and I’m not in the mood to contemplate any of them.

 

Alas, reality raises its ugly head whether you seek it or not, but I’m going to let the bartender in Non Sequitur (AMS) handle the people who just don’t get it.

I’m assuming these two strips, and Monday’s set-up, are part of a week-long series, but, then again, you could profile the clueless right up to November 8 and still have a few spares.

 

Even on the funny pages there are serious issues, and Tank McNamara (AMS) is taking on the slime of the Washington Commanders, who I suspect finally yielded on their refusal to give up the racist name “Redskins” in hopes of being let off the hook for the criminal mismanagement and sexual exploitation in their organization.

But hiding required more than changing their name, and word came out of the recent owners’ meeting that there is substantial support among the other owners for forcing Dan Snyder to sell the team.

Which sounds promising, but Bill Hinds draws pig noses on the other owners as well and depicts them down in the mud with Snyder, while NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell seems more concerned about approval for a new stadium than with actually cleaning up the team.

 

Even good news gets caught up in this ugly world, it seems. Professional soccer star Kealia Ohai Watt and her husband JJ — one of the genuine good guys in professional sports — each tweeted this family picture with their firstborn.

But the next tweet down in Kealia’s feed was an angry letter.

She and her teammates declared their fury over the report of abusive behavior towards women in professional soccer, in which their owner and their coach were implicated.

At least little Koa James timed his arrival for a 10-day gap in Daddy’s game schedule. Not a guarantee that he’ll always be so accommodating, but a promising entry into a not-so-promising world.

 

The Other Coast (Creators) also dips into sports, though, in this case, the opposite of “organized sports.”

It’s particularly relevant here and may have even been inspired by a news story last month about a pair of hikers who wandered up into Franconia Notch and became the objects of a difficult, seven-hour rescue.

In this case, “tough but fair” resulted in guilty pleas and fines. According to that report, New Hampshire is particularly aggressive in imposing fines and charges against irresponsible hikers who spur expensive, often dangerous, rescue missions. Other states fear such policies would keep hikers from calling for help when they need it.

I think there’s room for compromise: Monty should have bitten him.

 

As for the category of “tough but fair” in Crabgrass (AMS), the “fair” part of the metaphorical conversation is purposefully one-sided.

I had a classmate in high school who was regularly grounded until she was 18, or possibly graduation. I forget which, because the threats never held, and I wish I’d been a fly on the wall at their house, because her dad was a grumpy old guy but she was no little princess and I’ll bet those walls bowed outwards before they ever reached an agreement.

However they resolved matters, we’d miss her at the bar on Friday, but she’d be back on Saturday and grounded again by Sunday.

So, yeah: Recidivism.

 

Roz Chast sparks a fashion memory, because I wore a bomber jacket for years. It was comfortable and warm even in the dead of winter, which I suppose was a design consideration for those taking long flights at high altitudes in WWII era planes.

However, when I moved East, not only did I learn that I had to give up my Frye boots to fit in, but that, however practical a cowboy hat is in foul weather, it was a fashion faux pas once you’d crossed the Mississippi.

Fortunately, I discovered that a fedora did nearly as well at keeping the rain and snow off my neck and shoulders. I was being practical, not ironic.

However, I suspect the guys in the backshop may have been ironic, since I doubt they were actually confused when they’d greet me with “How’s it goin’, Indy?”

 

This Ken Krimstein cartoon got an extra laugh because my father, who, as I’ve explained before, landed in Europe after D-Day and spent most of his time there trying to catch up with his unit, used to say that he had lots of medals, but he didn’t wear them because their weight made his shirt sag.

I don’t know that this qualified as ironic humor, but he would say it with such obvious falsity that nobody ever took his explanation seriously.

Nor did they think he was sincere in explaining that he didn’t have a Purple Heart because the only time he needed medical attention in a war zone was when a flea bite on his wrist became infected, and it turned out to be a French flea. Had it been a German flea, he’d go on …

BTW, I particularly admire that Krimstein has the enlisted man wearing the medals on his right side instead of his left, the better to emphasize the continuation. An excellent touch.

 

I don’t know if Jimmy Johnson had comics in mind when he drew this Arlo & Janis (AMS), but it reminds me to remind you that, if you read your comics on a phone, you are estopped from complaining about newspapers shrinking them in print.

And given the comparative costs of laptops and smartphones, it’s not an either/or proposition.

That’s like saying, “I don’t need a bathtub. I have a sink.”

 

Rabbits Against Magic (AMS) brings up something related to what I noted yesterday, about how the people who invented the insult “snowflake” are also the ones who mewl and puke and whimper over every perceived liberal breach of how they think things should be.

They’re now becoming obsessed with being Manly Men while, at the same time, declaring themselves “incels” or “involuntary celibates.”

Involuntarily clueless, maybe.

Once you’ve outgrown believing lockerroom liars (14? 15?), you should realize that “Manly Man” is nearly always an oxymoron.

Though, as Howlin’ Wolf said, “The men don’t know, but the little girls understand.”