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The first thing I look at in the Sunday paper is Spot. The last thing -- and by no means the least important -- is the Slylock Fox puzzle. When I solve it, I'm insanely proud of myself. When I don't, I'm doubly depressed (not only did I fail, but I failed at solving a kids puzzle.)
But this Sunday I followed the chain of evidence and all ended well.
I love this cartoon. The horror and grief in the dog's face rivals anything I've seen outside of animation. The bit where Marc Anthony rests the cookie on his back is wonderfully sad and optimistic.
If you're impressed with Wile E. Coyote's ability to occasionally defy physics, you'll be awestruck by Bugs Bunny's Newtonian legerdemain. (via Something Old, Nothing New)
Some would say this is juggling.
Penn Jillette says that this is juggling.
If you appreciate the distinction, you might also enjoy his daily radio show. It's sharp, funny, provocative. He works with Mike Goudeau, a writer and juggler, and between the two of them it feels like a hundred balls are kept in the air at all times.
On a more modest note, I just finished four weeks of Spot in the space of two weeks, which leaves me enjoying the sensation of juggling, without the applause.
Mike Lynch continues to reveal the cartoonists wardrobe. I never thought of the cartoons I sent out as short-lived extras in red shirts, but it's a perfect image: to give spice to the sale, you need rejection. Without a salt vampire, success tastes flat.
At the moment, Spot's pond doesn't have a name. Nor does the town around it. I'm excusing this lack by reminding myself that Charlie Brown didn't live in a particular town, either, and few comic characters do.
It's tricky enough keeping the seasons straight, much less an address. I live in southern New England. The only snow on the ground is in the shade of tall buildings. But when I write the strip, I'm remembering northern New England, where the snow is more stubborn, less afraid of the daylight. (which reminds me of Peanuts again: Schulz would have Charlie Brown bundled up for winter one day while stomping through snow, then strolling without a coat across grass on the next. This confused me until I realized that he wrote the strip from California, but his mind was probably in Minnesota.)
On the one hand, the snow should be whisked from Karl's yard by April 1. On the other hand, it could drift around into May.
This weekend I cracked like hot glass plunged into the cold. Looking at the grass out my window, while drawing Spot knee-deep in snow, made me snap. Which is why I can report that winter will come to an abrupt end on April 9, in the town without a name.
I've heard that the world population now stands at 6.5 billion. Cartoonists are a motish piece of all that, but there are still quite a lot of them; more than I can easily track. Rod McKie is a cartoonist I know by name only -- he posts on a cartooning board I frequent. But now he has a blog, with ample samples of his work, and it's all very fine and dry.
If his work inspires you, and you're thinking about increasing the population of gag cartoonists by one, he offers good advice. Don't.
There was a Simpsons Halloween episode where Homer passes into the mysterious and unsuspected third dimension.
He's done it again. (via cartoon brew)