Page 40 of 42« First...102030...3839404142


>Bizarro is brought to you today by Great Band Names.

If I was a shape-shifter, like “Sam” on HBO’s Trueblood, I would choose to be a bird every time. Imagine being able to fly under your own power. Holy cow(bird). Of course, I’d want to be a bird with my mind, not a bird’s mind. Not because birds don’t have good minds (they have perfect minds for life as a bird) but I would want to protect myself from cats, hunters, traffic, the pet trade, all the sort of things birds fall prey to.

But shape-shifters have that ability, at least on Trueblood. They maintain their own consciousness, but take on the shape of a different animal for however long they want, then switch back. So cool.

The only downside to shape-shifting is the nudity. You lose your clothes when you change into another species – you could hardly imagine a pigeon flying around New York City wearing jeans and a hoodie – so when you change back, you’re still naked. And you have to be careful where you leave your stuff when you first “shift” because your wallet will still be in your pants or whatever. It would be a drag to come back from your flight to find all of your stuff missing. How do you get back into your house without your keys? Naked people trying to jimmy windows are often frowned upon by neighbors.

Back to the things birds fall prey to, few things break my heart the way the sight of a bird in a cage does. I admire people who rescue parrots from “pet owners” and try to give them the best life possible given that their natural life has been ruined by captivity already, but I am dead set against people who buy birds to keep as pets. If I were a bird, I’d rather be set free than live the rest of my life in someone’s kitchen window, regardless of how long I could survive in that environment. I’m always tempted to release birds I see in hotel lobbies and pet stores. Big parrots wouldn’t have much of a chance, their wings are typically clipped anyway, but little finches and songbirds would probably be fine just flitting around the city eating what they can. When winter comes, they might not make it, but I can’t help but believe that’s a better life than prison. Some cities do, in fact, have large populations of escaped birds. Good for them.

Before my animal rights friends come down on me for encouraging behavior that might endanger innocent birds, let me say I’m just thinking out loud. I don’t really know what is best for a given species in a given climate. I just know what I’d want. I’d be the Patrick Henry of birds: Give me liberty or give me death. But not in a creepy, backwoods middle America way with stockpiles of guns and a fear of socialized medicine.

I’ll post a cartoon contest tomorrow at 6pm NYC time. Watch for it, play it, enjoy it. First person to post the correct answers in the comment section wins!

>Double Stubble

>Bizarro is brought to you today by Two for One.

Generally speaking, I try to post these cartoons a week after they appear in papers, and since I’m a bit behind that schedule, I’m posting two today. What good fortune for us all!

In one we have a cat who was mutilated for the purposes of his “owner’s” convenience, musing sarcastically about said owner’s karmic comeuppance. In the other, we have a moving man transporting all of the worldly possessions of an ascetic monk in a bicycle basket.

Can you tell which cartoon is which?

NOTE: This is not a contest, per se. No winner will be announced, no prizes awarded. Play at your own risk. Injuries or financial loss incurred while reading this blog are not the responsibility of the characters in the cartoons, nor their creator. If you are still reading this far, why not purchase some fine Bizarro products from this website? I don’t get paid for writing this blog or posting these cartoons and newspapers are closing right and left. A guy has to make a living or he’ll have to quit this line of work and go back to washing cars and selling phony religious artifacts on the side. (Can I interest anyone in a genuine button off of Jimi Hendrix’s shirt?)

>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.


>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.

Page 40 of 42« First...102030...3839404142