People are being awfully willful about what they’re willing to hear in each other’s words this week, aren’t they?
Must be a trend. Lots of people are into trends.
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I’m just guessing that the talk with her mom went more toward Dad’s interests.
And that only the last few words of THIS talk were of Steven’s interest.
People are interested in what they’re interested in.
Seriously, you can talk astrophysics all day long, and some people don’t come away with anything new other than “Astronomers wear horrible shoes, did you know that? They LOOK like upscale nice shoes, but they’re department store knockoffs. Rubber soles! Rubber!”
Kara brought up exactly what she wanted to talk about with her mom. Mr. Biner brought up exactly what he wants everyone to talk about with his wife and daughter. No one’s at fault, no one’s to blame… not that we won’t try.
So… who’s side are YOU taking?
Mr. Nutley isn’t really cut out for this sort of thing, poor guy.
He was probably okay with Mrs. Nutley and the kids taking up bicycles and all, but I don’t think he’s constitutionally prepared to join in, himself.
If you need someone to drop you off and meet you at the end of the bike ride with ice cream, though… I bet he’s that husband and father.
Douglas Adams wrote a scene in one of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books where, in the swamp of the mattresses on Squornshelous Zeta, night closed in with crazed entomologists calling to each other across the landscape (I did all that from memory, so if it’s all jacked up, I apologize) and I didn’t recall that scene until I’d finished drawing this particular cartoon, scanned, colored and uploaded it. Then I re-read it and realized I’d just stolen the concept wholesale. Dang it.
Usually, I write from within the world of Hubris for these blog entries- treating the story and characters as they are. The above paragraph, though, is more the sort of thing you’d have gotten from the Patreon page when this cartoon ran last week. There, I usually do a behind-the-scenes approach. I gibber about coloring and writing, about line weight and style, about schedules and editing. If you like that sort of thing, I’d be pleased for you to pony up a buck or three every month and be a patron member of Team Hubris. Just click on the orange Patreon logo over there on the left that is slightly outdated and needs replacing…
We live where we live.
Paste lives in chaos.
Soooooo, Dusty’s not out for a “good friend”, she’s looking for an exit hatch. A golden parachute. A series finale. Life of Leisure. Early Retirement. A genteel departure from the workaday world.
How ’bout that, Durnell.
If you got someone like Kelly around, by all means, let him do the structural thinking. Just don’t be surprised when he either takes over, or leaves for greener pastures and you can’t do without him. That kinda thing happens, you know, Dusty!
But like any advice, you can find a circumstance that recommends the opposite good advice to whatever good advice you have otherwise. “Two Heads Are Better Than One” leaps to mind, here.
Durnell might need another head to help his out, don’t you think?
Whose head do you suppose he should look for?
Why the heck isn’t anyone seeing Gryphons still flying around? Did they die out? There should be some kind of outrage! Gryphons were majestic creatures, worth our respect and part of the Ancient Greek ecosystem!
Don’t let this tragedy go unmentioned! Spread the word through social media! Get someone to make a commercial using a famous artist’s heartrending pop song! We must let the world know that a made up animal can’t disappear from someplace it never actually existed without us caring about it!
Clem knows the use of some good adjectives. It takes some doing. You can’t just throw “awesome” or “spooky” in there, and try to do the job. You gotta go all Lovecraftian on folks and let the words ooze into everyone’s ears…
and send them to their tents, wishing there were doors… and furniture to pile against those doors… and electricity for some nice light fixtures to turn on and drive back the night. But, y’know… TENTS. Oh, well.
