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>Psycho Analyzes

>Bizarro is brought today before your face by Signage Improvement.

I’m not sure why I drew myself as the analyst in this cartoon. I didn’t really mean to, it just sort of came out that way in the pencil sketch and got even more so when I inked it.

Perhaps it is what they call a “Freudian slip.” Perhaps I have a closeted sheep within me that I am afraid to embrace. Buried deep in the cockles of my being could be mounds of squooshy wool and big floppy ears, yearning to bleat and graze and follow the herd from hill to dale.

Or, maybe I am the wolf, wishing I could break the societal constraints of our culture and run naked in the wild, ripping the throats out of weaker beings.

Perhaps I secretly see myself as the table, patiently waiting in silence to offer a sip of water or a tissue.

Or, I’m just an egomaniac who likes to draw himself. Kind of pathetic.

Until next time…if you want to distract the monkeys, you may have to throw some bananas.

>Bugged

>Bizarro is brought to you today by Creepy Crawlies.

Before the entomology police get onto me, I suspect that preying mantises don’t eat their young, only their mate. I don’t really know, but then cartoons don’t have to be all that accurate. I’ve always heard that black widow spiders devour their mates, hence the name, and I’ve heard that preying mantises do this, too. Whether it is true or not, I like the gag.

I’m sure any species that occasionally eats its own young has a good reason, my own father used to threaten it when we pushed him too far, but it does seem rather counterproductive to propagating the species. There was a religion in the United States at one time that forbade sex for any reason, even procreation. (Can’t remember the name. Blueballers? Shrivellers?)Their numbers depended entirely on conversions, and it isn’t easy to convert someone to a lifestyle that denies sex. The predictable result was that the sect died out completely. All with pained grimaces on their faces, no doubt.

So if there were a species that regularly ate its young, it, too, would have to rely solely on converts. Not a very good evolutionary design for any animal.

I’m off to Philly for my comedy thingy in a couple of hours and may not be able to post over the weekend, but I will be twaddling on Twitter, via cell phone.

Until next time… it is the table without legs that is sturdiest.

>Cave Democracy

>Bizarro is brought to you today by Blood Sucking Babies.

I’ve always loved bats, ever since I was a kid in Oklahoma and could see them careen past the streetlight on our corner just after dark. The more I learn about them, the more fascinated I am.

Here are some of my favorite bat facts:

1. A single little brown bat can eat up to 1000 mosquitoes per hour.

2. Bats may have descended from primates, making them more closely related to humans than to rodents.

3. A single Mexican free-tailed bat can drink up to 3 bottles of tequila per hour.

4. There are over 1000 species of bats, making up around one fourth of all mammal species.

5. Vampires can not turn into bats.

6. Adam West, who played Batman on TV in the 1960s, was neither bat, nor man.

For more bat facts, go here.

Until next time, may your life be filled with Bavarian cream

>Crazy Catless

>Bizarro is brought to you today by This.

I just got back from Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary last night and was dead tired. I took a two-hour nap when I got home, then slept another 9 hours last night. Lordy.

I rode my motorbike up there and back (1971 BMW R75/5) and took the back roads instead of the big highway. What is normally a 2 1/2 hour journey took me 4 1/2 hours each way. Fun, but very tiring. Still, what a great time we had.

I’m behind on everything now, so no time to make a whole jazztown-hootenanny-blogspree right now. Got to catch up on a deadline and tons of email.

I like this Crazy Cat Lady cartoon because I know a few of them. It occurred to me that they’d be just as crazy without the cats.

Peace, love, and rainbows my friends…(tune in tomorrow for UNICORNS!)

>Half Funny

>Today’s Bizarro is brought to you from Woodstock, NY.

I’m spending the weekend at Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary with some friends. Such a great time is being had by all. We didn’t plan it this way, but this weekend is a big celebration of some anniversary of the famous hippie-fest in the late 60s. Tons of ex-hippies, old hippies, young retro hippie wanna-bes, and average tourists are wandering the streets. We mostly just stay out at the farm, which is not close enough to the town to be affected by the festivities.

Last night they had a dandy fireworks show over the cemetery at the edge of town. For a small town, it was quite elaborate. Half the fun was watching the fireworks, the other half was watching how the fireworks affected everyone’s drugs.

Got to get back to farm chores. Chopping wood, sweating, moving said chopped wood to the wood pile, sweating, feeding and cleaning up after animals, sweating again. It is hot today.

>Kids Today

>Bizarro is brought to you today by the Talent Portion of our Competition.

Yes, it’s another one of those preachy, vegan editorial cartoons. Sorry, but it’s a fun angle with a silly picture and it was conceived by my eighteen-year-old protege, Victor, who has been donating the occasional cartoon idea to Bizarro since he was a mere 15.

I had to fix it a little, but basically the idea was his. Although he had an alligator, a worm, and a container of talcum powder instead of farm animals, and the line was not exactly the same. Victor’s original line was “What about Churchill?” And the chalkboard was a little different in his version, in that it was a deflated hot air balloon hanging over a clothesline, but basically it was the same gag. I just punched it up a bit.

So little Vic, or “Vickydoo” as I call him, was on vacation in NYC with his family recently and came by the house. We had cocktails on the veranda, then went to dinner and a nightclub, followed by dancing. All while wearing tuxedos and glittery gowns like those old Fred Astaire movies. It was mahvelous.

Enjoy now this photograph of Vickydoo and Yours Truly partaking of scotch and cigars on the couch at Bizarro Headquarters.

While you are at it, gaze upon this adorable depiction of the youngster wearing one of my hats. He was so excited most of the evening, his mouth gaped open like a catfish.

Finally, I offer this charming photo of little V wearing CHNW’s motorcycle helmet and mugging for the camera with me and a local homeless man.

If Victor and his family had half as much fun that evening as CHNW and I did, they had twice as much fun as someone who had no fun at all.

>Dangerous Jobs

>Bizarro is brought to you today by Not Dead.

When I was young, I found the stereotypical flute-playing snake charmers of India to be fascinating. I figured that regardless of how good you are at it or how tame the snake is, it has got to be a dangerous job. Unless the snake is defanged, you’re spending pretty much your entire day within striking distance of a cobra. It’s like being Donald Trump’s personal assistant.

Even creepier, though, are the religious hillbilly kooks who handle poisonous snakes because of a single line in the Bible that says something about safely handling serpents. The supposition is that if they have enough faith, God will protect them from the snake. What they don’t realize is that modern translations of the Bible are not in all instances accurate. In ancient Hebrew, the word for “serpent” was very similar to the word for “scissors.” We now know that the author was recommending safety with scissors, not playing with snakes.

I don’t know if these serpent-handling cults still exist, most of the photos of them that you can find are from the early and mid-20th century. There are, however, newer cults that show their faith in god by safely handling scissors at their services.

Whatever you’re handling today, be safe and don’t run. Unless a snake is after you.

>Hybrid Happy

>

(To view this cartoon LIFESIZE! click on the spittoon.)

Bizarro is today brought to you by YouKnowWhatTheySay…

I don’t have a car, but if I did, it would likely be a hybrid. I don’t have a horse, either, but I think a horsepig would be a fun ride. One would certainly get lots of stares and you couldn’t ask for a better conversation starter.

I’m one of those people who likes things that are different from the norm, so the horsepig would appeal to me, regardless of its relatively ungraceful appearance. But that would only be until they caught on and everyone had one, then I’d move on to something else. What I’d really dig would be a horsechicken. Think of the pecking power a beast like that would have.

>Eating Ourselves

>

(To make the cartoon big, click on the seagull’s left knee)

Bizarro is brought to you today by Geriatric Mouse Voice.

Judging by the emails I got last week, this cartoon was very popular with environmentally conscious readers. Destruction of ocean life is far worse than most people realize because it is hidden under the surface. It’s hard to get good photos of all that is missing from the sea. Most experts estimate that 90% of all large ocean life has been decimated in the past 100 years. Red Lobster All-You-Can-Eat night, anyone?

And judging by some emails I’ve gotten recently, there are a number of readers who think I hate fat people and think they are fair game for ridicule. My point is not that fat people are “funny” or “bad,” but that human selfishness is ruining the planet, with Americans firmly in the lead. I know it is hard to resist food, I’ve battled it myself, we all have. And we’re not the only species prone to this, we’ve all seen what happens to dogs when too much food is made available. For millions of years, humans couldn’t be certain when their next meal would be, so our genes evolved to tell us to eat all that is available, especially the fatty stuff. It could mean the difference between making it through the winter and winding up as a frozen skeleton. But for most of us in developed nations, those days are gone.

Food has only been cheap and plentiful for our species for a relatively short time, so our bodies haven’t had time to evolve messages that stop us from eating too much. My message isn’t “let’s all make fun of fat folks,” my message is “wake up and smell the devastation to our bodies, our earth, and our fellow non-human inhabitants.” I don’t kid myself into thinking that this will ever change, but I feel compelled to comment on it.

On a lighter note, here’s a silly cartoon about a clown.

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