Cartoonist George Herriman was born on this date — August 22 — in 1880. It’s a great excuse — if you feel the need for excuses — to find a collection of his work and revisit the adventures and exploits of Krazy Kat, Ignaz Mouse, and Offica Pupp.
And if you’re not familiar with his work, well, what are you waiting for?
Today’s Peanuts re-run is a great reminder of just how unsentimental Schulz’s work tended to be. Where most child-centered comics put their focus on what makes kids different from adults (mischief, malapropisms, and innocence), Schulz’s best work tended to focus on the humanness of his characters. Adults were never so much absent from the strip as irrelevant to it; anything that might be said about adults could be said more eloquently through his regular cast of prepubescents.
As I read this comic in today’s paper and pondered this blog post, the radio began playing the John Mayer song “Waiting For the World to Change”. I’ve always hated that song, and here Schulz demonstrates why. We can’t look to the next generation to fix our mistakes. Each generation has to take responsibility for its own actions and behavior.
One of my favorite webcomics is Wes Molebash’s Max vs. Max. To say it’s about a young divorced Christian man trying to get on with his life is perhaps accurate enough, but really do the comic justice. Molebash has a wonderfully quirky sense of humor, which keeps everything light and fun. And he quite deftly manages the difficult task of writing his Christian faith without it ever becoming forced or preachy.
Today’s comic is a particularly fun example — and it has spurred some great discussion on his blog to boot. Worth checking out.
Last week I participated in a sketching workshop at the Birds of Vermont Museum in Huntington, VT. It involved some warm-up contour drawings, a brisk sketch-and-stroll in the woods, and finally some time at the bird feeder yard, sketching whatever was there.
Incidentally, the museum has a webcam on their feeder yard. By the look of it though, at this writing, it seems to have been inoperative for a few months at least.
A lot of blue jays that particular day, along with a red-winged blackbird, an oriole (which never did stay around long enough for me to sketch it), a few woodpeckers and catbirds. All in all it was a great way to spend a lazy summer afternoon.
I’ve got more of my bird sketches posted in my online sketchbook. Hope you like them!
Harvey Pekar, author of the American Splendor comic book series, died in his home on Monday, July 12, 2010.
Pekar was to comics what Studs Terkel was to oral history — a working-class poet philosopher, storyteller, chronicler of the everyday. His great talent, and his invaluable contribution to comics as an art, was his ability to find meaning and humor in the most ordinary and mundane of daily routine.
Readers of Pekar’s autobiographical comics will be familiar with his numerous health issues — most notably a battle with prostate cancer, as documented in the graphic novel Our Cancer Year, co-written with his wife Joyce Brabner and illustrated by Frank Stack. So his untimely demise is not particularly surprising.
Pekar leaves behind a great legacy in his writing. He will be greatly missed.
Lately, I’ve been communing with a robin who lives in the apple tree just past our deck. She’s a brave little thing – flying up to and alighting on the post not three feet from the table where I eat my breakfast. I try not to make any sudden moves, so she generally hangs around for a good five minutes or so each time. Though I try to be fairly calm, I don’t sit absolutely still (often I’m reading a book and slowly turning pages), so I am sure she knows I am there yet doesn’t seem to be concerned. In fact she occasionally appears to have a look on her face as though she’s exasperated I’m here in her personal space, but since I’m not making too much fuss, she will put up with me for the time being. Sometimes I can even talk to her quietly and she’ll turn her head to listen.
I love it when she sings to me! She has the prettiest little warble. I can also hear the cardinals that live in our yard, “dew, dew, dew, gleegleegleegleeglee,” but they’re much more skittish and don’t come and hang with me. I often see them flitting by, and when we had a feeder on the deck during the winter, they shared the ‘most frequent visitor’ status with the chickadees.
Growing up, I can remember the special feeling I got each spring when I spotted the first robin of the year. These days, it seems like the robins don’t really go south for the winter, though they are a bit more scarce during the colder months. So it’s nice to get that special feeling again each time my little friend comes to visit with me.
Boy, can I relate to this comic. Whenever I go to the grocery store in the summertime, I put on a sweatshirt on my way through the parking lot. I learned the hard way that if I don’t, I will end up with shivers, blue lips, and numb fingertips – even when I stay out of the frozen foods section!
Now, with my slender frame, I am often chilly when others I know are not, but I’ve only had serious issues when I’ve been in supermarkets. I can go to an air conditioned mall and most other retail businesses and be perfectly comfortable. So why do grocery stores feel the need to make their indoor environment feel like outdoors in mid-November? (That’s mid-November in the northeast, of course, not Florida). I imagine it probably has something to do with keeping produce and other items fresh, but surely there must be a way to do that without making the whole store into a huge refrigerator.
In light of the energy crisis we’re experiencing these days, it seems like it would behoove the supermarkets to find a better way to keep temps down. In fact I recently read a related article somewhere that I was impressed with. Some big professional company (can’t remember which one) was urging its employees to forego the jacket and tie dress code in the summer months so they could set their A/C at 75 degrees; something we would all do well to adopt in some way.
Wine. Mmmm…I love wine. Problem is, it’s the sweeter ones I prefer, especially the dreaded white zinfandel (or as my friend Kathy insists on pronouncing it, “zindafell”). I say dreaded, because white zin these days seems to be the ugly stepsister of ‘serious’ wines, and when I’m with people who know what’s what, I often get the impression that they look down their noses at it.
In fact, I recently read an article which explained that the reason why white zin is so popular with the 20-40 year old demographic is because they were raised on Kool-Aid, Hi-C, & sugary sodas, and thus, their palates do not appreciate drier wines. All I can say is, “eeewww.” Even when I was growing up, I did not care as much for those drinks and would gravitate more towards iced tea, lemonade, and fruit juices. I do admit that I have a sweet tooth and have a hard time turning down dessert if it’s offered, though I am much more discriminating in that area. Run of the mill brownie sundaes from the big chain restaurants don’t really do anything for me, but offer me some rich, home-made rice pudding and I’m in heaven.
Anyway, back to wine. I’ve heard that white zin has a lower alcohol content than other wines, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I could argue that it makes me a more responsible drinker, or someone else could contend that I drink wussy wine. And then, of course, there’s also the fact that white zin does tend to be less expensive than other wines, which is great for my budget, because I can afford to get one of those big 5 liter boxes that will last for a long time, and in so doing, save lots of money. I say this is more financially sound than buying lots of pricey single bottles, but I can hear all you wine snobs out there murmuring to yourselves, “cheap.”
Nevertheless, when I’m at home, I will continue to drink my cheap, wussy swill, and I will be perfectly happy. And if you see me out at a restaurant or a bar with a glass of amber colored white, you can be sure I’m self-consciously sipping one of the slightly less sneered at sweet cousins, Riesling or Gewürztraminer. Salut!



