I don’t know what you pictured in your head when we got to the part about Mr. Cranky and Miz Cravettes, but… shame on you. Icky.
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2375 comics.
I have an issue with Flax.
When I was first doing The Buckets cartoons, I worked hard at trying to write ones that my mentor would approve and use. (writing was not my job, but this was an opportunity to learn and benefit, so…)
I wrote a few gags about adult cereals (as opposed to any cereals with colors, cartoon mascots, or flavor.) and sometimes populated backgrounds with the parents in the comic eating breakfast. When considering what to lampoon with my cereal boxes, I chose to think up a grain that was not cultivated primarily for human consumption, and the inedible parts of domestic grain. I made up ‘Flax & Chaff’ cereal. My mentor Scott found it amusing, and I stuck with it- proud to have invented a cereal that no self-respecting human would eat.
And then, of course, they started making cereal out of Flax. You can go buy it now. I wouldn’t. In fact, I WON’T, because it’s not food, and I thought of it first anyway.
Flax and Fruit, though. Whew. That’ll clear some pipes.
Soooooo… Enis seems none to keen to knock Shelly off his face. Or to admit what got him pitched out at Sportsmart.
Cool.
Is it just me, or does everyone in the comic strip today have personal and/or professional issues?
Granted, people without issues rarely get to be in comic strips, but … dang!
Dr. LeChamp is back! She’s your second favorite French Canadian, and very favorite TV wannabe, right?
Everyone admires her for her flying tackles.
Well, I think this guy’s wound a little too tightly, and will probably sleep well tonight. Or whenever he finally stops moving and his legs quit twitching.
Raaaaawk. Rawk, RAWWWK!
Rawkahrawkarawk.
Kah!
So, Mal has decided that he, like you, wonders what the heck’s going on.
And has decided to ask. Politely.
Probably wise of him.
It takes a special kind of person to ask about the screaming while watching an old military elevator smash into its own housing over and over again… and then hurry onto the subject of the temperature of the coffee.
Gladys is a special person with her own ideas about the hierarchy of importance in the world. But then, so is Mr. Cranky. Apparently, so is the Cassowary, Shelly, Mr. Out-Front-Biker, and … well, everyone else. We’re all special.
A science enthusiast like, say, Shelly, would notice that as these chaotic panels continue that they knit themselves into parallel narratives.
Thus, the OutdoorFest, far from being chaos itself, is bringing order to a disordered system. Such a thing, physically speaking, generates heat, and adds to the overall chaos of the universal physics and will eventually lead to the heat-death of the universe and the end of all molecular movement. Party!
But in the smaller scale of the neighborhood in which Hubris works? The Chaos is being Ordered. Not in an even pattern or anything, but…
Well, we’ll all see, won’t we?
