During my teen years, one of the delights of reading the newspaper was the cartoons of Richard “Dick” Guindon. Born in Minnesota, he had returned to the Twin Cities in the 1970s to draw his satirical cartoons.
Mind you, it was pretty mild satire, but folks liked his pokes at the foibles and culture of the Upper Midwest. This particular volume was published in 1980, just before Guindon moved to Detroit to work for the Detroit Free Press.
Many of the cartoons here are observational humor, which has aged pretty well. Others are very much rooted in the fashions and fads of the 1970s and might be indecipherable to younger readers. And there are some pieces that are just absurd.
Some favorites: A woman talking to a child: “We don’t talk about Star Wars at the dinner table, Dear, because Mommy and Daddy hate Star Wars.” A bank robber with a gun backing away from the hostages: “OK, I’m leaving now, and the first person who says ‘Have a nice day’ stops one.” A man in a plaid suit at what appears to be a very dull party: “How many people do you know who have actually READ their entire insurance policy and are prepared to discuss it intelligently?”
It’s also interesting seeing the hints that gay people were inching towards general acceptance, at least in the cities.
Mostly of interest to Midwesterners who have memories of the 1970s, and those curious about what people of the time found funny.
The cartoons in this book lampoon humans and their many foibles, with a concentration on foolishness, self-deception and petty failures. One of my favorites has a man dressed in clothing of the late sixties or early seventies, pants with horizontal stripes and jacket with horizontal and vertical stripes, saying, “How many people do you know who have actually READ their entire insurance policy and are prepared to discuss it intelligently?” One that most people will relate to is the one with a woman in curlers and some kind of housecoat holding a coffee cup and a piece of cake or pie and walking over to the table. Seated at that table is a significantly overweight version of herself that tells her, “Hello. I’m your appetite.” Another one that is petty, yet relevant to us all has two women in an office and one says to the other, “It was ten years ago today that I canceled my subscription to Vogue.” To many, that would be a sign of youth gone by. There are no side-splitters here, just snapshots of life, how we deal with it, but never really try to make sense of it all.