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Today’s episode, where Jeff says it’s not always clear what is real, and embraces the unknown, of course sounds hilarious. But consider the following quote from Jacques Derrida:
There is no unity or absolute source of the myth. The focus or the source of the myth is always shadows and virtualities which are elusive, unactualizable, and non-existent in the first place. Everything begins with the structure, the configuration and relationship. The discourse on this acentric structure, the myth, cannot itself have an absolute subject, or an absolute center…. In this context, therefore, it is necessary to forego scientific or philosophical discourse, to renounce the episteme which absolutely requires … that we go back to the center, the source. In opposition to epistemic discourse structural discourse on myth — mythological discourse — must itself become mythomorophic.
Those readers who have the patience to sort out the above quote will realize that Derrida is saying pretty much the same thing that Jeff is; only Jeff is more understandable. The odd thing is that adults in academia, including myself, make a good living writing such nonsense as Derrida did. (Yes, I’m afraid his ghost lives on.) What’s even stranger is that Derrida used to hold forth on such life and death issues as mutually assured self-destruction during the Cold War. I’d be interested to learn how Jeff’s ideas on that subject compare with Derrida’s.
It may be that Jeff doesn't get the fact that people see his book as fiction, but he seems to be on track to getting rich and popular with readers. I get the feeling that on some level he knows he's daydreaming, but if people lionize and enrich him I wouldn't be too sorry for him.
When composing fiction all writers become, are experiencing, the character they are creating. When we read the story we are drawn in to experience the adventure too. Jeff is a marketers dream. He is willing to share the book's reality with his readers outside its covers, adding credence to the Red Rascal adventure. Becca is savy to encourage this fantansy transference.
Ian Fleming, for all practical purposes, was James Bond. He was with the Special Operations Executive during World War II, Churchill's "dirty tricks" squad (along with Christopher "Count Duuku" Lee, BTW). Most of his wartime activities are still classified, but we know that, unlike Jeffrey, Fleming was a real, effective covert operator.
Jeff is a boy who is insists on operating as a video game avatar in the real world and on transmuting reality into a fantasy world. Even though George Bush didn't know video from voodoo, he was gaming in a similar way when he and his teenage pals in the White House took the most powerful military machine on earth out for a joyride in Iraq.
Ian Fleming was James Bond. He was a decorated commando for British Intelligence during WWII and based many of the stories on events drawn from his own experience, and many of the characters on his colleagues (and enemies). Even some of his book titles were drawn from plans he drew up for various missions during that time.
Jeff doesn't get the joke. He hasn't realized that Becca sees through him and that the book is being published and marketed as fiction. It's as if Ian Fleming thought he actually was James Bond.
The Jeff sequences, while crushingly funny, always make me wince a little bit. They always carry a scent of generational conflict: 'What's wrong with the kids these days?'
"You'd make it out to 'cash.' As many have." The line of our times.
I'm curious to see if Mark learns that Jeff is Joanie's son. It's always interesting to see how GBT intertwines characters' lives, with the reader being more aware than the characters how few degrees of separation there are.
Blowback is a wonderful feature. It makes me realise how many others have been watching Doonesbury as long and as religiously as I have. It's an incredible body of work; there can't be many others with the depth and breadth of understanding of their country and society that GBT has. Trudeau for president.
The revulsion with Jeff is because he's achieved an entirely different level of self-obsession. Look at what happened in Berzerkistan: He helps to airlift a dictator to safety. Jeff isn't just guilty of being young and foolish, he's guilty of knowing better and doing the wrong thing anyway. He is neither quaint nor excusable.
Tee hee hee! A special "laugh out loud" funny strip, as Sorkh Razil's natural coloring draws admiration from both his publicist and Marvellous Mark, and he discovers that life on the tour circuit isn't all about attention from female groupies. He can't handle other peoples' fantasies intruding on his. It's not surprising that he reacts with reflexive homophobia.
I sometimes wonder how much of the Jeff/Rick conflict is autobiographical. Trudeau drew and created his own fictional world, just like Jeff did. Perhaps at times he took his new world too seriously and his father didn't apporve of it. Is Trudeau entertaining here, or trying to get closure with his past?
Doonesbury points out the foibles and heroics that we see around us. I can't imagine that any reader sees Jeff as real, but the so-called "hatred and bile" is directed at those we know who expect to float effortlessly through life with every wish granted. I see some of them in my college classrooms. Happily, they sit alongside others who work hard and take responsibility for their own lives and decisions.
Today's strip: Wicked...sense...of...humor! Keep up the good work.
The fact that people are belittling and deriding Jeff for living in a fantasy or virtual world is deeply ironic, considering they're getting so upset with and wasting so much hatred and bile on an imaginary character in a comic strip.
I just want to say: sometimes a good joke -- perfect set-up to a zinger punchline -- is just a good joke. Today the timing alone made me laugh, and it was cool to go back and notice exactly what Alex was doing throughout the strip. Applause, man!
Today's strip reminds me of my daughter's complaint about inheriting my big feet.
Watching Jeff is like watching a busy street covered in black ice. I keep looking away in horror only to sneak a look back to see the wreckage.