A Quagmire to Remember

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It’s been a while since I’ve drawn the ol’ Iraq-PNAC gang, and the official departure of troops from the war that really sucked me into editorial cartooning seemed like a good occasion.

After staring at Cheney’s newly gaunt face, I’m amazed that warmongering fucker outlasted Kim Jong Il. I’m aware there’s not much substance beyond a bunch of (rightfully deserved) name-calling in this cartoon, but once I got the idea of Dubya in a class photo with lasers behind him, I had to will the rest of the comic into existence. And you have to admit, “Office of Special Poops” makes a real classy name for the shitter.

There were already plans to forgo a Sunday Review cartoon on Christmas, so don’t think the Judith Miller swipe in this comic got me shit-canned. If all goes according to plan, there should be another BFW up here on Friday, finally putting the neglected alt-weekly strip back on schedule. There will also be another BFW up on the 30th, since vacations are for folks with lives.

If I knew how to animate my way out of a paper bag, and the copyright stuff wasn’t an issue, I’d try to set this cartoon to the opening credits of Freaks and Geeks.

Rest in War: The Iraq War

Electric Six – Clusterfuck

I started this little comic strip right after 9-11, not for political reasons, but because those attacks made me acknowledge my own mortality. There was no way I was going to spend years in a shitty engineering job, saving up to pursue to my real dreams, only to let some asshole kill me before I got to do any of the shit I actually wanted to do. Sure, it was Al Qaeda who brought that to my attention, but all sorts of assholes can end your life before you even get it started: Cancer, car accidents, wicked-fast adult-onset diabetes, etc. …, so get going, kids!

So I started drawing dumb, poorly-drawn cartoons about jerking-off and eating chicken wings. Simultaneously, America turned into a crazy jingoistic collection of shitheads. First the Afghanistan War, then the totally phony run-up to the Iraq War sparked my latent Massachusetts’ liberalism into full-blown opinionating. But don’t get me wrong; even though I’m now part of it, I still hate the media for the role they played in starting the war they’d rather forget. Occupy is great and all, but WAY more people took to the streets in opposition to that invasion; it just didn’t fit the media’s narrative at the time.

Anyway, that war ended yesterday, to no great fanfare, even though it has provided the political backdrop of my (totally fucked-up, but for unrelated reasons) adult life. And as my generation slowly ossifies into old-folks, I figured I should throw this out onto the Internet before I become an old guy with a mustache who champions wars for no reason at all.

Obviously I’ll never become the Mustache, but if any mall-heirs want to debate the issue, over steaks and shrimp-smoothies (That’s what you richies eat, right?) at the disgusting strip mall you inherited, I’m hungry enough to entertain you.

Here’s a  link to the Electric Six album the above-song came from if you want to buy it.

Interpreting Mass Die-Offs


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A few weeks ago, everyone was freaking out over a bunch of dead blackbirds and other animals. Maybe if our bombs launched all those dead foreigners into space and they landed in the middle of an Arkansas NASCAR track, this country would fucking notice.

The animal die-offs are interesting in a “Weird News” kind of way. The brown foreigner die-offs make us sad and angry, (Or angrily defensive, in the case of chickenhawks.) so naturally we don’t like to think about them. But not thinking about them is why they’ve been going on for nearly a decade. In the same decade, Snooki became a bestselling novelist. That is interesting in a “Fucking Disgusting News” kind of way.

I don’t wish death on any person or non-delicious animal, except for starlings. Those fuckers are the Euro-trash of ornithology, with their disgusting greasy feathers.

Next Week: Valentines