Dan Piraro's Blog, page 5

Huge Duct

Bizarro is brought to you today by Duct Tape.

I'll be honest with, I'm really fond of "Duct Tap Night." Not as an institution, but as a cartoon. I'm not fond of bars in general, the liquor is far more expensive than what I have at home, the music is typically too loud to have a conversation, and I'm not looking for a new sexual experience. It would be fun to meet a friend in a bar and catch up, but quiet bars are increasingly difficult to find and I have no desire to scream at my friends. So I tend to stay home where the drinks are cheap, the music and volume is of my own choosing, and the hot women (wife) will actually go to bed with me.

Although the idea of this comic is funny to me –– women enjoying a bar where the men can't hit on them –– it has been my experience that women usually don't go to bars except to look for mating possibilities, so the whole concept is probably erroneous. Note that I said "usually." As I typed that sentence, I had a premonition of torrents of comments from angry women saying they like to meet their girlfriends in bars and have no thoughts toward being "picked up." Okay, fine, my bad. If that's you, you'll love Duct Tape Night.

This next cartoon was drawn from personal experience. I am inordinately tall – 7' 5" – and have always had a terrible time finding clothes that fit in those Big and Tall men's shops. It could be that even at that height I am still too far out of the norm to be catered to by mass production. Or, it could be that I still have a touch of dyslexia from time to time, I am actually 5' 7", and I have no business in a Big and Tall shop in the first place. That would explain why the clothes in those shops are so baggy, come to think of it.

I'll be posting again tomorrow, but I want to be sure to remind you to check in next week when I'll be posting my holiday family newsletter; a complete rundown of all the precious and adorable moments of my family for the past 12 months. I don't send out cards or letters of any kind this time of year, so this is the only place to get it.

Snow Mysteries

Bizarro is brought to you today by Snow.

It's cold in NYC this week and we had a slight dusting of snow, so I thought I'd drag a few old Bizarros out of the cartoon freezer today. There is something irresistible about snowman gags to cartoonists, and these are some of my favorite gags of any kind.

We begin with this cartoon based on a true story that happened in Cheboygan, Michigan in 1983. It seems that a small group of 9-year-old boys built four snowmen on Thursday, December 15th. When they returned to the site the following day, exactly 27 years ago today, one of the snowmen had been murdered by the other three, their carrot-nose murder weapons still sticking out of the gaping wounds in his chest. By the time the police arrived, an unidentified rabbit had eaten all three of the carrots and left the scene. Authorities arrested the three suspects but they disappeared from lockup over night and have not been seen since. The rabbit, a suspected accomplice, remains at large. Snowman-on-snowman crime, however, is not uncommon and most cases go unsolved.

Our next cartoon features the growing trend among snowpeople toward cosmetic surgery. Though exact statistics are impossible to gather, experts estimate that nearly one quarter of all snowpeople in the U.S. are using elective surgery to make themselves more attractive. Snow cones are a cheap method of breast augmentation and sales of "baby carrots" are up 130% in the past ten years, presumably to achieve a more attractive nose than the traditional full size, adult carrot. Snowmen have been known to use parsnips for penis enlargement, though their proximity to the ground have led to some thefts.

Our last cartoon documents a mystery upon a mystery. Archeologists are still uncertain as to the origins of the large stone heads on Easter Island, and even more mystified by their replacement each winter with big whopping snowman heads. Government officials have declared the island off limits to tourism during these months fearing vandalism of the heads, which are notably more fragile than the stone ones. Samples of the snow are gathered by scientists each year and guarded carefully as they look for clues to its provenance. Theories of the origin of the frozen craniums range from intervention by extraterrestrials with a juvenile sense of humor to ghosts of the children of the indigenous inhabitants who erected the stone heads visible throughout the rest of the year.

If you have a strange winter mystery that you think would make an interesting cartoon, write it on a 3"x5" note card in 200 words or less and mail it to:
Santa Claus
1 North Pole
The Arctic 00001

Stay warm and thirsty, my friends.





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COMEDY SHOW

My good friend and unbelievable comic genius, Will Franken, is performing next week in San Francisco. Get your tickets fast, he always sells out there. If you don't know his work, it is irreverent, politically incorrect, and hilarious. Not traditional stand-up, more like a one-man performance of dozens of Monty Python sketches looped together, with very modern sensibilities. Don't die without seeing Will live.

Will Franken's "Texas Chainsaw Yuletide" December 21st, 22nd, and 23rd 9:30 pm each night The Eureka Theatre 215 Jackson Street, San Francisco $15 - $20 here's where they can buy tickets online: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/137346


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Prophetic Comedy

Bizarro is brought to you today by Xmas Celebrity Sightings.

Since we humans are so prone to superstition and mysticism, I could easily attribute the harrowing accident involving my wife and a taxi cab on December 10th to my cartoon that ran in newspapers on December 7th. It was undoubtedly an unwitting premonition, perhaps even a prophecy. I'll think twice before I use terms like "prescription for disaster" in Bizarro again. Whew!

Or, I could use the other 99.99999% of my brain and admit that not all coincidences have spiritual meaning. In fact, there's pretty much no evidence whatsoever that any of them do. Unless you choose to apply one, which I recommend you do at your own risk. History teaches us that superstition can lead to some pretty idiotic life choices. Like war.

T Rex has no superstitions, he just needs help in his cafe because he is short-handed. Get it? Short handed? What kind of damn fool dinosaur starts a cafe if he cannot even carry a tray without dropping it? And what does he do with the tables of patrons he knocks over with is mighty tail? Perhaps he just eats them. T Rexs can be like that.

My fanny pack riff got a few emails from readers with a better knowledge of anatomy than mine who informed me that the "liver pack" is on the wrong side of the man's body. What we actually have here is a "spleen pack." My bad, as surgeons up on malpractice charges frequently say.

Of course, if you want to get really picky, the "belly pack" is actually an "intestine pack." The stomach is much higher. Unless you want to be extremely liberal in your interpretation of "belly," but don't even get me started on that kind of irresponsible artistic license. Cartoons should be as factual as possible. If you can't trust the information in a cartoon, what can you trust?, I always say.

Don't forget all the life-changing Bizarro products that can be found somewhere around here. Perfect for holiday gift-giving!



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Catasrophe Update

For those of you who have not read the account of my beloved wife, CHNW, getting hit by an anonymous Taxi last Friday night in NYC, click here to catch up on the story.

Now that you're caught up, I just wanted to say thanks to all the quadrillions of you who have left nice comments, sent Facebook messages or emails, or used the pathetically old-fashioned telephone system to wish her well. She appreciates it and is doing great.

Here now are a few pics of the healing process. Photo number one is of us in the hospital. CHNW loves to take pictures of herself looking at all ridiculous, be it from bad hair, a funny wig or hat, silly sunglasses, or after she has bounced her head off the street. So this first picture is taken by her camera and her own hands, at the height of the festival of medical bills. I popped into the pic with my extra-big-deluxe-executive lip, which I pull out of storage any time there is a worthy "poor baby" situation, for which this certainly qualified.

Picture two was taken at home the following day as she lay in her luxurious four-poster bed, ringing a tiny bell every few minutes to summon me to help her because she was "dizzy" or "weak." What a big baby. Sometimes I had to get her a glass of water, sometimes a cup of soup, which entailed my peeling the paper lid off of a cardboard container and pouring hot water into it. You can't believe how hard it is to walk into the next room with one of those things without spilling it. Meanwhile, I had to make my own breakfast, lunch and dinner for two solid days! Now I know how Civil War nurses must have felt. No thank you, Clara Barton!*

She took this picture partly because she thought that the purple of the "boxer's eye" really set off the blue of the unmolested one. I couldn't agree more, that one side of her face has never looked lovlier.

Finally, here she is as she looks today, up and around and getting her own damn soup. It's great to have her back. The cool thing about CHNW's bruising is that because she has a mechanical heart valve (from a past medical problem, not the cab), she takes a blood thinner every day. This does weird things to her bruises and the resulting kaleidoscope of colors and shapes is breathtaking. It will change many times over the next few weeks, like an over-decorated house in the suburbs of Wichita, perfect for the holiday season.

What you may not be able to fully appreciate from this picture, though, is that her eye has a distinct oval of black and purple around it, the sort you might expect a first-year movie makeup student to do on their first attempt. If I were the instructor, I'd recommend a little less makeup and a little more blending. But what's really horrific is that just today she is beginning to develop a large circle of chartreuse around it, reaching all the way down to her jaw line. In the coming days it will get even more pronounced and promises to be positively Halloweeny. I'll keep you updated.

For those of you who have recommended litigation, rest assured that we have a close friend who is a very successful personal injury lawyer and he will be leading the charge against the ironically named, TLC. (Taxi and Limousine Commission) We don't want to retire to South America, just get the med bills paid and around $80,000 for my own pain and suffering while having to play nursemaid.

















*Note to those of you who do not know me personally: I'm not as big a jackass as I portray myself here. I've been taking good care of her and have not said a peep about being put out. I'm sure being a Civil War nurse was more difficult than what I've been dealing with. The amputations without anesthesia alone were probably a major buzzkill.


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Quintuple Tragedy

(click the pic to make it big)

Bizarro is brought to you today by A Leisurely Drive.

Hey, I went to a holiday party last night and they had a very fun live band. But it turned out that was not the most exciting part of the evening.

Nor was the most exciting part when we left the place at midnight, hailed a cab out front of our friends' building, and my formerly lovely wife, Ashley, stuck her head into the passenger-side door window and said to the driver, "Will you take us to Brooklyn?"

The most exciting part was when the cabbie suddenly stepped on the gas (fear of Brooklyn? involuntary leg spasm?), throwing my formerly lovely wife to the street, conking her head on the pavement and knocking her unconscious.

Not being a trained crime fighter, instead of drawing my gun and shooting at the cab or simply getting the car's number, I fell to my knees and began shouting to her, asking if she was okay. She was not okay, as her bloodied and sleeping face quickly told me.

I called 911, they came quickly, tossed us into an ambulance and brought us to an emergency room at the other end of the bumpiest street in the tri-state area. With what it costs to ride in an ambulance, you'd assume that included some sort of suspension system, but you'd be wrong.

Upon entering the ER, the first thing I learned was that all of the employees are superstitious. They forced me to put my camera phone away, presumably fearing I would steal their souls. I told them I had all I could handle with my own soul and had no interest in theirs, but that reassurance seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Now in the trauma room, at first there was a lot of clothes-cutting, shouting of inane questions to get a brief test of Ashley's I.Q. –– What's your name? What day is this? Do you realize we're ruining your fancy party clothes by cutting them off because it is so much more dramatic than removing them the normal way? –– and bandying-about of medical terms like "stat", "cc", "saline," and, "Sir, put that camera away, we're not going to ask again!"

One interesting thing I found out was that you don't really have to leave the trauma room if you don't want to. I learned this after they asked me several times, rather sternly, to step outside and I simply said, "no." Instead of calling security or producing a taser, they just sort of looked disappointed and went on about their business. In their defense, however, they were being forced to ask me and this caused them fear; "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside," they said over and over. "No," I blandly stated each time and this seemed to allay their fears for a few more minutes. I was, after all, standing calmly off to the side, not scrubbing up and offering to help.

After seven hours of poking, prodding, testing, and mostly waiting on gunshot and knifing victims to be treated, they gave her a couple of stitches in her eyebrow where previously there were none and sent us home, warning her to keep her head away from speeding taxis and the pavement until it healed.

They further admonished her not to get the wound wet for 24 hours, which is a real drag because she has quite a lot of dried blood in her hair. I'm sure it will be uncomfortable for her to sleep with dried blood in her hair and I'm not downplaying that at all, but what about me? I have to sleep with a woman with a face like Rocky Balboa and dried blood in her hair. That's not something I thought I'd ever say.

CHNW is a real trooper and was happy to allow me to publish these pics of her and make a humorous post out of this otherwise unfun event.

I would like to offer two bits of advice to you, dear reader:
1. If you are in NYC, do not ask a cab driver if he will take you somewhere. Get in the cab, close the door, and tell him where he is taking you. By law, they have to do it, but if your destination is not as profitable as they'd like, they will often get away before you can get in.
2. Avoid the holidays. You're safer at home where nothing moves quickly enough to knock you down.


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Piglet Pokey

Bizarro is brought to you today by The Magic of Ham.

Today's post features two old cartoons from the late 1900s, which I came across while searching for something else. I really like both of these cartoons because they take well-known topics and combine them in new, thought-provoking ways. Neither of them really mean anything, although they kind of seem like they might.

This is also the trick to great song lyrics. Take a song like "Losing My Religion" (or almost anything by REM) and try to figure out exactly what it means. It's relative nonsense, but you relate to it somehow and twist it into a personal meaning, almost subconsciously.

I'm not saying these cartoons take on a personal meaning for anybody, most people don't dwell on cartoons long enough, but it's fun to play with that edge. For me, that's what creativity is all about.

Even now, I'm not entirely sure what I mean by what I've just written, but it seems like it means something. I should also say that I don't eat animals anymore, I've been vegan since 2002, but at the time I wrote this Piglet cartoon the vegetarian message was not on my radar at all. It can have a hidden animal rights message if you want to apply one, but I was actually still a corpse eater when I drew it.

Regarding the Hokey Pokey Stew cartoon, I was not vegan when I wrote this cartoon, either, but was still not in the habit of eating human feet. So, no, this was not intended as an anti-cannibalism message, although you can turn it into one now if you wish. Whatever that means.

I hope you have enjoyed reading these rambling paragraphs eight times more than I have enjoyed typing them. Until tomorrow, my friend...

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Not My Leak

WTF? First, I am accused of throwing a cable guy off my roof (see yesterday's post) now the WikiLeaking thing. The spelling is different, though.

(click pic to enlarge)


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THIS WEEKEND

If you're in or around Los Angeles, you must go see Will Franken this weekend! If he doesn't presell a certain amount of tickets, they'll paper him with Sarah Palin campaign brochures and drop him off in Berkeley. So buy them online NOW!

Seriously, you will thank me. Unqualified genius.

Will Franken's "Texas Chainsaw Yuletide"
Friday, December 10th (8pm) and Saturday, December 11th (10pm)
Theatre Asylum
6320 Santa Monica Boulevard, Hollywood, CA
Tickets available here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/137563
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Law of Cable

Bizarro is brought to you today by New York Living.

The weather here in Brooklyn today is less than what one would hope for if one wanted to sunbathe nude on the roof of one's building. Which I do not, but it's still nice to know I have that option if the whim should hit me. But I do not have that option today, at least not unless I want to lose extremities I may want to use again later. The locals call it "winter," but I call it "way-too-ass-biting-cold-and-it-gets-dark-too-early-why-haven't-I-moved-to-the-tropics-yet?"

Speaking of the roof of my building, CHNW (wife) and I recently received a letter from a lawyer informing us that we are being sued because a cable TV worker tripped over some debris on our roof, fell into our backyard, crashed through our patio furniture and broke his back. This struck us as odd since we both work at home, our patio furniture is still in tact, and neither of us can recall any ambulance workers rushing through our house – which is the only way into our backyard. Was he airlifted out by a silent helicopter? we asked. Did he replace the patio furniture before taking off? If so, we certainly do owe him some money because that was just damned considerate.

As it turns out, he fell off of a different building which stands behind ours and over a fence. We rarely keep our patio furniture (or legal liability) in our neighbor's yard, which explained why we were unaware of the episode. The address of the offending building sports a different number and street name, so it is unclear why they addressed their complaint to us, but such are the mysteries of Time Warner. Perhaps our neighbor doesn't have cable and the cable guy got the wrong building in the first place.

We were relieved to hear it was not our building, but disappointed that we could not respond by telling them we would appear in court between the hours of 9am and 7pm on the date specified, but only if someone over 18 took the day off work to wait.

This story has nothing to do with these two cartoons, of course, but then neither does anything else. Hope you enjoyed them and it all the same.