This is a special time for the people of the San Francisco Bay Area. It is a time when we are called to exercise the rights that our forefathers laid out for us, to awake from our stupor of ineffectualness , to look beyond the smear campaigns and petty politics, and to decide for ourselves which comics have the moral fiber, the consistent delivery of chuckle worthy gags, and the humanity to grace what we here like to call "the page."
That's right readers, the Chronic is giving us a chance to ax up to five sucktastic comics and replace them with potentially awesome new ones. I know you're thinking what I'm thinking: we might be able to get the fuck rid of Lio. Each day this week a slew of new 'mix will grace the Datebook, and we get to vote for up to five of them. Even more importantly (because we here and RD & C w/ T are all about negativity) we get to vote against five current comics! You want endorsements you say? After I've assessed the worthiness of the candidates, you can expect the definitive CG69 guide to casting your vote. How does this voting happen you ask? Well, you can fill out the ballot that comes with your daily dose of 'mix and send it in, or you can go here. I would like to note that one half of the blog team in currently on tour, but that I certainly hope that recognize their duty as citizens of the comicsphere to cast an absentee ballot. The other quarter of the production team currently resides in the land of "the Sidekick," that much debated vehicle for Boston area 'mix. But in my book, all lovers of the 'mix -near and far- must take responsibility for the pages of the Chronic. By which I mean, all lovers of the 'mix who agree with me and will vote for the comics that I like and against the ones that I don't like.
Egad, it's already Thursday! Go read the comics already!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
A little thing called ANTHONY PROPOSING TO LIZ
yeah, it happened all right. Look it up. Or look below:
instead of "Yeeaa-aaahh!", Fuckin finally, is all I have to say. If I remember correctly Liz Johnston is busy spinning her wheels, I mean revisiting the golden days of her brilliant comic strip before she retires, as her divorce from her husband takes effect. No disrespect--that is just what I hear is going down these days in the wide Canadian world to our north, and the lady has been doing it to it for pretty much my entire life so who am i to judge. And if FBORFW has taught me anything, it's that life goes on. And to not judge.
An official Congratulations from me to ye: Elizabeth Patterson and Anthony Galoises [i know it is some non-cigarette-affiliated French-Canadian name but i don't feel like* looking it up now]
*am too drunk to
instead of "Yeeaa-aaahh!", Fuckin finally, is all I have to say. If I remember correctly Liz Johnston is busy spinning her wheels, I mean revisiting the golden days of her brilliant comic strip before she retires, as her divorce from her husband takes effect. No disrespect--that is just what I hear is going down these days in the wide Canadian world to our north, and the lady has been doing it to it for pretty much my entire life so who am i to judge. And if FBORFW has taught me anything, it's that life goes on. And to not judge.
An official Congratulations from me to ye: Elizabeth Patterson and Anthony Galoises [i know it is some non-cigarette-affiliated French-Canadian name but i don't feel like* looking it up now]
*am too drunk to
Monday, February 25, 2008
A Secret Shame II: Feeling Old
While I was 'Mixing it up today, after a long day at the "office," I realized from whence cometh (sorry, I've been reading a lot of Stan Lee/Jack Kirby era Thor lately) the secret shame of which I have already blogg'd. While the Elderberries is, clearly, inherently funny (and before we proceed, let us all take a moment to absorb today's wonderfully hilarious offering:
), it seems that perhaps my appreciation of it is part of a larger pattern, and it is not the only sign of senility in my 'mixtual proclivities. In fact, it was while reading Zits today that I realized just what was going on: I'm getting old. Here's today's strip:
And what was my one and only reaction to it? Did I laugh? No. My sole reaction was to ask, "Jeremy, why can't you be nicer to your parents?" Yes, though it pains me to admit it, I identified more with the parent than with the child. Look at mom's face in panel 2, filled with emotion, hope, the desire to bond with her child over matters of serious import. And in panel 3 all of her hopes are callously dashed against the rocks of adolescence.
Recently there has been a real vein of bittersweet emotion for me in the comics, ranging from the tenderness of Blondie's love for Dagwood (today was a wonderful example) to, of course, Peanuts ever-present melancholy streak. On this topic, though, I would like to introduce everyone (thanks go to the inimitable Jacob Sattinger for tunring me on to this) to the saddest, most touching thing going in comics today, maybe ever (certainly since the final strip of Bloom County all those years ago): Garfield without Garfield. I actually have very little to say about this, as I think it speaks wonderfully for itself, but my mind is certainly reeling, having seen the light of a whole new world. Garfield, and by extension our man Arbuckle, have been part of my life literally as long as I can remember, and now everything is different. Maybe this is just part of the same phenomenon. Maybe I'm just getting old and weak. But lord do I find it moving. Perhaps I identify too closely with Jon. I certainly feel like my appreciation of Elderberries and Jeremy's parents is a challenge from G-d. The big guy upstairs is laughing in my face, throwing my own waning years in my face. And I find myself both insulted and intrigued.
), it seems that perhaps my appreciation of it is part of a larger pattern, and it is not the only sign of senility in my 'mixtual proclivities. In fact, it was while reading Zits today that I realized just what was going on: I'm getting old. Here's today's strip:
And what was my one and only reaction to it? Did I laugh? No. My sole reaction was to ask, "Jeremy, why can't you be nicer to your parents?" Yes, though it pains me to admit it, I identified more with the parent than with the child. Look at mom's face in panel 2, filled with emotion, hope, the desire to bond with her child over matters of serious import. And in panel 3 all of her hopes are callously dashed against the rocks of adolescence.
Recently there has been a real vein of bittersweet emotion for me in the comics, ranging from the tenderness of Blondie's love for Dagwood (today was a wonderful example) to, of course, Peanuts ever-present melancholy streak. On this topic, though, I would like to introduce everyone (thanks go to the inimitable Jacob Sattinger for tunring me on to this) to the saddest, most touching thing going in comics today, maybe ever (certainly since the final strip of Bloom County all those years ago): Garfield without Garfield. I actually have very little to say about this, as I think it speaks wonderfully for itself, but my mind is certainly reeling, having seen the light of a whole new world. Garfield, and by extension our man Arbuckle, have been part of my life literally as long as I can remember, and now everything is different. Maybe this is just part of the same phenomenon. Maybe I'm just getting old and weak. But lord do I find it moving. Perhaps I identify too closely with Jon. I certainly feel like my appreciation of Elderberries and Jeremy's parents is a challenge from G-d. The big guy upstairs is laughing in my face, throwing my own waning years in my face. And I find myself both insulted and intrigued.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Are you effing joking?
Has Luann actually begun a serial story about Dad CHANGING A LIGHTBULB? Jeez Louise people, I'll take an ongoing-yet-going-nowhere story about Brad trying to make out with Toni any day.
See with your own eyes, yesterday:
And today:
I was discussing with my colleagues over breakfast yesterday that there are a few different kinds of multi-panel, character driven strips. You have something like, say, FBorFW, which is truly plot driven, shows the passage of time, has actual things happen to its characters, etc. Then you have something like, say, Mutts, which has recurring characters, but no real plot to speak of, just twee interactions between animals. Garfield, for a long time, dwelled in the no-plot-just-gag category. Sure, the cat had birthdays, but did it make a lick of difference? No. That is one reason why it was so alarming to many aficionados when Liz and Jon actually got together. Because nothing was really supposed to change. The thing about Luann is it sort of acts like it might really have a plot, but then it NEVER DOES. It is boring ALL THE TIME. Maybe I will be proved wrong and "The Lightbulb," will actually culminate in some sort of stupendous/hilarious/scandalous finale, but I'm pretty sure that this strip, like, officially blows.
See with your own eyes, yesterday:
And today:
I was discussing with my colleagues over breakfast yesterday that there are a few different kinds of multi-panel, character driven strips. You have something like, say, FBorFW, which is truly plot driven, shows the passage of time, has actual things happen to its characters, etc. Then you have something like, say, Mutts, which has recurring characters, but no real plot to speak of, just twee interactions between animals. Garfield, for a long time, dwelled in the no-plot-just-gag category. Sure, the cat had birthdays, but did it make a lick of difference? No. That is one reason why it was so alarming to many aficionados when Liz and Jon actually got together. Because nothing was really supposed to change. The thing about Luann is it sort of acts like it might really have a plot, but then it NEVER DOES. It is boring ALL THE TIME. Maybe I will be proved wrong and "The Lightbulb," will actually culminate in some sort of stupendous/hilarious/scandalous finale, but I'm pretty sure that this strip, like, officially blows.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
A Secret Shame...
My friends, I am sure that some, nay all, of you have wondered why this blogger has been so lax in his contributions of late. "Is it his demanding work schedule," some of you have no doubt asked yourselves. "Or perhaps his many brilliant artistic forays require his undivided attention," you wonder dreamily. Well let those questions linger no longer. It is time, my friends, for the truth: I have shamed myself. I live in a state of pitiable 'mixtual turpitude and trepidation, gnawed by the fear that the public should learn certain facts about my proclivities. But it is time for the light of day to shine down, and for me to expose myself warts and all. Yes, my friends, it is true. I enjoy Elderberries.
Not just enjoy! Of late, it is my most consistent laugh on the page, indeed, I laugh OUT LOUD almost daily upon reading it. Dusty's charming foibles, Evelyn and Tom the cat, Boone and his disdain for rival shipping companies. Even the Professor, consumate straight man. All of them have wormed their way into my squalid, unworthy heart. And ah, Ludmilla, grande dame of the kitchen and keeper of the Soviet flame. And my morning merriment is no mere chuckle, friends, no, but a belly laugh to surpass even that which Blondie brings to me each day. And the crowning jewel on the head of the Royal Elderberries: the fact that all this mirth is rendered by a man now sadly passed away! For whatever reason his name remains in the byline, and his soul remains at the heart of the strip. You might assume the strips to be merely stockpiled from before his death, but I ask you, would Dusty and Boone's current Wii-related storyline have been written over a year ago? Not likely. But in any event, let's take a look at today's glorious panellations:
The Geriatric Six Million Dollar Man! I'm in stitches. And Dusty's charming dialect (confoundingly shared by Boone in panel two)! Old men, up past midnight! Some of you may, by this point, think that I am being sarcastic in my appreciation of Elderberries, but I assure you it is not the case. I am as bewildered by this as any of you, believe me. How has this happened? Have I become prematurely aged? Have I lost my taste for the finer things in 'mix? All I can offer you is the truth of my situation friends, my secret shame, and leave the rest to you to decide.
Not just enjoy! Of late, it is my most consistent laugh on the page, indeed, I laugh OUT LOUD almost daily upon reading it. Dusty's charming foibles, Evelyn and Tom the cat, Boone and his disdain for rival shipping companies. Even the Professor, consumate straight man. All of them have wormed their way into my squalid, unworthy heart. And ah, Ludmilla, grande dame of the kitchen and keeper of the Soviet flame. And my morning merriment is no mere chuckle, friends, no, but a belly laugh to surpass even that which Blondie brings to me each day. And the crowning jewel on the head of the Royal Elderberries: the fact that all this mirth is rendered by a man now sadly passed away! For whatever reason his name remains in the byline, and his soul remains at the heart of the strip. You might assume the strips to be merely stockpiled from before his death, but I ask you, would Dusty and Boone's current Wii-related storyline have been written over a year ago? Not likely. But in any event, let's take a look at today's glorious panellations:
The Geriatric Six Million Dollar Man! I'm in stitches. And Dusty's charming dialect (confoundingly shared by Boone in panel two)! Old men, up past midnight! Some of you may, by this point, think that I am being sarcastic in my appreciation of Elderberries, but I assure you it is not the case. I am as bewildered by this as any of you, believe me. How has this happened? Have I become prematurely aged? Have I lost my taste for the finer things in 'mix? All I can offer you is the truth of my situation friends, my secret shame, and leave the rest to you to decide.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Chutney and Curtis, sitting in a tree?
I can't remember whether Curtis appears in the Chron, so you west coasters might be out of the loop for this one-- fasten those seat belts, because it seems another Jon*-dates-Liz mind blower might be a brewin'.
At first I thought old Ray B. was yanking our collective crank, but look at the expression on the C-man's face in the third panel. It is one of yearning, of hope! Those exclamation lines or whatever you would call them, that then in panel 4 are the same color as Chutney's exclamation lines. Perhaps we are to interpret that as them being on the same page? Only time can tell but come on, Curtis, Michelle is a total cooze. Chutney is as spicily sweet as her namesake. My fingers are officially crossed.*(Q. A.)
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