A clean, well-lit place to vent
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Wow. Looking at the expression on Joanie's face when she announced "Jeff's home" and the impossibility of Jeff's world of mansion, literary agent and so forth actually existing in reality, I have come to the conclusion that you have decided to tackle the subject of mental illness. If so, Godspeed. My son is bipolar.
It's like seeing the manufactured image (John Wayne / Ronald Reagan) next to the real deal (Jimmy Stewart / Audie Murphy). Drive on, Leo!
The remarkable depth of these characters that the strip develops day after day in just four panels occasionally strikes me, especially when long-standing characters meet for the first time. It's hard to imagine a world that could hold the absurdity of Jeff's character and the harsher realities of Toggle's life, but then there they are, conversing in the same room, and it's perfect.
It is hard to type (do we still call it that?) whilst continuing to chuckle about your take on pledges. I do not remember, ever before, laughing out loud at any Doonesbury strip, and I have been a fan since the 70s. Wonderful!
I just got back home after attending the Emerald City Comicon in Seattle. Not a trace, not a hint, not a headwrap of the Red Rascal to be seen. I seem to recall a challenge being offered by a rival, to be taken up at Comicon. I realized at the time it was probably not mine, but I was hoping... I am so disappointed, dawg!
Wait a minute! Alex and Toggle are engaged? I thought he said no when she texted her proposal! How did I miss such an earthshaking event? I feel so out of it, so outraged, so irrelevant, so Gingrich....
Leo, scarred veteran of war, meets Jeff, war fantasy writer. Real hero vs storybook hero. Which will dominate? The answer may not be obvious. We live in a world where our fictions stand as large as real life, sometimes even larger. This could get interesting.
Real Deal meets Rascal. I can't wait!
The April Fool's Day strip was very apropos for that holiday. I wonder if Grover will donate his collection to the Smithsonian?
Just the thought of what could be coming this week, after reading today's strip, brought tears of laughter to my eyes. Leo and Jeff in the same room; when worlds collide. Thank you, GBT.
Fiance, eh? Guess he said yes. Good for them! Very interesting future ahead -- I'll be eagerly reading and hoping for the wisdom of their youth to see them through.
At last: Toggle meeting Sorkh Razil. The oddest couple since Elvis met Nixon!
So the American war hero finally comes face to face with his ultimate counterpart — a pathetic poser with counterfeit cred. Well worth waiting for through two weeks of reruns!
I reread Catch-22 a few months ago, and was surprised at how well it holds up. Bush as Cathcart, Cheney as Korn. Minderbender in charge of the world in which we live today. Sunday's strip about pledges and oaths was right out of Catch-22, when the squadron was forced to sign Capt. Black's loyalty oaths and pledges on a daily basis. Yossarian lives!
Regarding today's strip: Well said. Since when have elected representatives stopped representing their constituents and started cowtowing to special interest groups? It seems they are now more fearful of offending the money than the electorate, and that's sad.
The spectacles! Whilst the message always carries the punch in the strip, it is usually the attention paid to the brilliant artwork that knocks me out and lifts me up. In today's strip the way the spectacles on Mike's face, which seem to be magically aloft, dropped and rose frame to frame, did not go unnoticed.
I'm 61. I'm female, and the whitest person on the face of the earth: I burn, peel, and go back to white. And I'm sitting here in one of my hoodies, typing this comment. I own three; this one's a sweatshirt I picked up in the airport in Seattle, to warm up as I waited the three hours of my layover.
Hoodies. What's not to love? They have a hand warmer pocket, so you can hold your kleenex, and keep your fingers warm. The hood raises the neckline, so, even down, it keeps your neck warm. My daughter still has the one she appropriated from her stepdad. Back in the 70's, it was his outdoor concert hoodie. Warm enough to sit on the grass? It was a blanket. Cool? It was a sweatshirt. Raining? It kept his head dry.
Geraldo Rivera is so out of touch with the culture that he doesn't realize that even 61-year-old white women wear hoodies. Bless our children, especially the ones who look "dangerous" just because they exist.
Most NFL fans know that hoodie wearers (on the sidelines, anyway) cannot be trusted! Specifically, Bill Bellichick and Josh McDaniels. On the other hand, hoodies are just about unbeatable on a damp morning when you're out for a walk or a jog.
I frequently wear my hoodie that touts the branch of America's military service both my sons are enlisted in. I double dog dare anyone to try and prohibit me from wearing it.
I would like to comment on your latest Straw Poll. Once again, it would appear that politicians and the media have drawn a bullseye on the American Farmer. My God, it’s bad enough that we battle rising fuel prices and competition from South America, but must we also be demonized for what we wear to work? Oh yes, long before the hip-hop community or even the NCAA made the “hoodie” popular with urban youth, this garment was a staple on every single farm in the US. Films and television might portray the iconic farmer dressed in bib overalls and a flannel shirt, but on most farms, the dark blue or green hooded sweatshirt -- complete with Similac stains and hay-lined pockets -- is a virtual uniform.
From the time I was a young child, I would be rousted out of bed at 4:00 each morning, and shrug into my so-called “hoodie” before I went to the barn to do my chores. The hood kept the pre-twilight chill off my head and neck, but could be quickly brushed aside once exertion and the butane barn heater made this feature of the sweatshirt unnecessary. Most adolescent farming kids wear their hooded sweatshirts several sizes too large, but that isn’t so they appear to be thugs. Nay: the purchase of oversized garments is the idea of their parents, who understand the value of a dollar, and opt to buy clothing their children can “grow into." (Plus, the extra room makes it possible to smuggle barn cat kittens into the house, so they’ll stay warm overnight.)
And now, because of one cowardly attempt to cover up a homicide, the American public is up in arms, and ready to ban this important piece of agricultural equipment? For shame! What’s next, I wonder: putting 4-H Clubs on the FBI’s list of known street gangs? I sing the Hoodie Electric, and I’ll wear Daisy Dukes to church in December before I allow the knee-jerk reaction of some self-serving, city slickers to make me get my next hooded sweatshirt from behind the locked glass case where they keep the spray paint and single malt Scotch!