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This nonsense doesn’t deserve an explanation. I’m fascinated by the kitsch of the Victorian Era the same way most people my age are fascinated by the kitsch of the eighties. The punchline barely even makes sense, considering the vulgar meaning of “muff” is almost as archaic as the original one.
And unlike what Matt pointed out about last week’s comic, the placement of the prop in this final panel is completely intentional. Hopefully this masterpiece will let the comedy world know I’m capable of punching up the script for the long-awaited Porky’s remake.
Come see Comedy Bronze, a sketch troupe I write for, at the Tribe Theater. 67 Stuart St, Boston, MA
8 PM. Buy tickets here
I just heard about this on account of me not being an asshole who hangs out in the Back Bay. Apparently the big ol’ snobs on Newbury Street got a thing against cartoon whales. The only pictures I could find were in this Dig article. If I was insane, I’d say it was proof that Boston desperately needs one of its alt-weeklies to run a comic strip that has “Whale” in its title to right this terrible injustice.
My vote is to move the whale to Downtown Crossing and make those uppity fucks stare at the starving Irish people.
Pat Robertson finally blamed Katrina on abortion, proving that I’m either psychic or an excellent judge of assholery. Speaking of abortion, the Roberts hearings are in desperate need of some pubes on soda cans. I’m trying to pay attention, but that stuffy party could use a little blue humor.
Everyone with Katrina fatigue will be delighted to learn that this week’s cartoon has nothing to do with anything, except for my creepy fascination with antiquated facial hair. There’s also a monkey.
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Because I don’t like putting two political strips in a row, I didn’t want to do a Katrina cartoon, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I still wanted to do something funny, so that meant avoiding the entire subject of the Bush administration and their cronies at FEMA and DHS. While others do outrage very well, I just come off as shrill, so I went after a more laughable subject: the Christian Right.
The two chumps in the first panel are Michael Marcavage of Repent America on the left and Rick Scarborough of Vision America on the right. Amazingly, Falwell, Robertson, and the rest of the douchebag A-team hadn’t made any statements that Katrina was divine punishment for the decadence of Mardi Gras when this went to press. I already came up with the rest of the cartoon, so I was stuck with these assholes.
There’s nothing else to say about the cartoon. Blaming the weather on God is just as stupid as giving him credit for a touchdown. Not because he has better things to do, but because he doesn’t fucking exist. If he did exist and had control of the weather, I’d be struck by a lightning bolt right about now. And I wasn’t. So fuck you!
With tomorrow’s cartoon being about Katrina, this blog desperately needed a post about something else. Since I had to remove the radio blog because it included an embedded search engine that was draining my bandwidth, I figured another pretentious music post was in order.
I won’t go into a lengthy review or anything. I’m just going to point out that the Raveonettes and the Soviettes are worth your attention. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m pretty sure I’d stop hating the fuck out of Coldplay if they just changed their name to the Coldplayettes.
You can catch some Soviettes videos here and Raveonettes ones here.
While it’s true that I do listen to Sleater-Kinney and really like The Woods, everyone already knows about them and their name doesn’t fit the theme of this post.
Even though they didn’t have the foresight to stick an “ettes” on the end of their name, I’m looking forward to Morningwood’s album to come out, whenever that may be. Until then, they have a fun video to keep you entertained.
If I punch a baby in the face, can I get out of being held accountable for it by telling the cops to stop playing “the blame game?” And if the baby won’t quit bitching about it, can I lead the investigation into the alleged baby punching?
Lost in the shuffle of human suffering, there were no reports on the status of Zatarain’s. Since I’ve never been to New Orleans, their delicious rices and spices are my only connection to that city. Forced to do my own research, I learned that the business is okay, but there is concern for the displaced employees.
Sorry for my rambling incoherence yesterday. Like most people who don’t live in a cubicle, I was glued to the TV all week and the ineptitude of the administration was making me angry. I mean really angry. Anger I’ve only felt before while stuck in traffic.
I realize it’s a confluence of problems that can’t all be pinned on Bush, but even days later when it became obvious there was no organization on the ground to help those people, he’s done little, if anything. And last I heard, that’s his fucking job. They’ve been more focussed on making themselves look good instead of helping those people who are dying right fucking now.
Whoops, on to the lighter note. In replying to a comment about yesterday’s comic, I came across this swell page of old children’s educational songs. I think they’re all great, but I’m a giant dweeb.
However, those among you who don’t know an isotope from your elbow will enjoy at least one of the songs. It’s about heat, but at least to my ears, it sounds very dirty: Click here then scroll down to We’re Making Heat.
A televised fucking meeting?! This is the absolute most shameful PR stunt pulled by these shitheads I’ve seen.
I’m sure it’s been said elsewhere, but three days after 9-11, George Bush was standing on top of the rubble with that fucking bullhorn. It’s five days later, but who thinks that motherfucker will be going to the convention center on his little tour today?