Drawn by Charles Rodrigues, whose “Charlie” character’s appearance was based on the cartoonist himself. Rodrigues (1926–2004) drew regularly for Cracked, Playboy and National Lampoon. There is more at Wikipedia, including this assessment:
He works at night, which is fitting, since some of his best cartoons deal with the dark side of the psyche. A classic black humorist, he rummages around in violence, insanity, perversion, bigotry and scatology, looking for what he needs to create the typical Rodrigues effect: wild laughter with a cringe of repulsion.
Another fruit of the desk and file cabinet clean-out mentioned previously.
I love snarky local blogs. Unfortunately, the one for my little mountain county seems mostly devoted these days to attacking one county commissioner candidate, so I will spare you that.
But thanks to a Facebook friend, I was introduced to Normal for Glastonbury, which contains such nuggets as these about the most esoteric town in England, contributed by its readers:
Lisa: ‘Get off my fucking leyline!’ a hedge monkey once shouted at the custodian of the White Spring.
Sophie: “Yesterday, whilst on the top floor of the bus returning to Glastonbury from Bristol I overheard two young men, talking excitedly about visiting Glastonbury for the first time. One French guy explained that he had a calling to go to Glastonbury because people there believe in dragons, as he did himself and in fact he always travels with his dragon. When the other man asked where his dragon was the French man explained that his dragon was riding on the roof of the bus.”
Vijay ” I have a boyfriend in the seventh dimension”
Sam: “I was stood outside St Dunstan’s house on the pavement. Woman walks up and, looking concerned asks “Can you tell me where something normal is?”. I paused and asked whatever did she mean ‘normal’? She said “Something like .. well – an Italian restaurant”. I pointed across the street to point out we had (at that time) two – there and there. She looked relieved, thanked me and walk away. It left me wondering .. why is an Italian restaurant in Glastonbury ‘normal’ and what had led to her concern?”
That comment about getting off the ley line1)Is ley line one word or two? reminded me of another blog, one devoted to conversations overheard in the too-hip university city of Boulder, Colorado, once famous for its population of Buddhist converts.2)Sedona, Arizona might be a better parallel for Glastonbury, however. (They’re still there, but Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche is long gone.) Mirroring a more hipster/New Agey-vibe, it’s called Stay Out of My Namaste Space.
“I do yoga at the Y. They do a poor people’s scholarship which is great ‘cause I look poor on paper.”
“I was thinking about it today and I haven’t been in Europe in 2 whole years.”
“The Universe has blessed me with the opportunity to be unconnected from my smartphone.”
“I swear to God, I was the only person on this earth who thought Iceland was cool before everyone else did. I’ve literally been obsessing over Iceland for twenty years.”
“We ended up naming him Jeffrey. I wanted to name him Stannis but my psychic didn’t think that was a good idea.”
Who’s delivering the snark in your town?
Notes [ + ]
|1.||↑||Is ley line one word or two?|
|2.||↑||Sedona, Arizona might be a better parallel for Glastonbury, however.|
There are people who say that they communicate with plant spirits. There are people who make videos and upload them to YouTube. There are people who love a good joke. At least two of the three are represented here.
(I do see a little kid who is having an interesting childhood.)
If anyone had made a bobblehead of John Calvin in 16th-century Geneva, JC would have had the maker burned, most likely. Martin Luther might have laughed, depending how much beer he had drunk.
And bobbleheads do not exist in Middle Earth.
Guidelines for the politically correct police constable who finds him- or herself in the Wicker Man.
A Police Federation spokesman said: “During stressful situations there is a tendency to use hurtful or insensitive language, especially if you’re trapped in a massive, highly flammable corn dolly while an entire village gambols around it with lit branches singing folk songs about ‘ye [sic] offerings’.
“Naturally this situation is a long way from best practise in terms of health and safety, but the officer should refrain from using ideologically inappropriate language while begging for egress.”
This went around a couple of weeks ago, but I never blogged it. Now I have.
Here’s a short list of things we could do if we brought back the Greek gods:
• Go to oracles.
• Go on quests.
• Fight monsters.
• Challenge gods to contests.
• Go to Hades and try to rescue dead loved ones.
• Dip babies in magic rivers, making them invulnerable.
Now, not all of those are good ideas — most of them are insanely dangerous — but man, they’re still a hell of a lot more exciting than sitting in church for an hour every Sunday.