Welcome back to our monthly comic series, Doofus and Darling. If you had Highlights for Children magazine when you were young, you’ve seen Goofus and Gallant. If not, it probably doesn’t matter anyway.
On December 11th, 1922, a huge black bat dropped out of the sky and left a smoldering crater upon impact. Emerging from the smoke was none other than Vampira, fully formed and ready to present herself to the public as a mistress of the dark, put on this earth to provide ghoulish puns and introductions to bad televised horror films in the 1950s.
Her fame might have been fleeting, according to this Wikipedia entry, but her legacy is eternal. She was an inspirational figure to anyone who has ever loved dangerously arched fake eyebrow lines and a waist that is so small that it defies logic and reason. Her waist, supposedly seventeen inches around, belongs in a Lovecraft story that loves to not-describe the indescribable geometries of things which are cursed. Her waist could bring on madness, and that is what happened to me after I saw a random simple picture of her today, which I will draw for your amusement so that I am not infringing on a photographer’s copyright. I am not exaggerating her angles in any way.
Vampira! How! Did you not have organs? Could you eat? Inside, were you simply a few scoops of sawdust and faux-Satanic prayers? Whatever the cause and whatever the circumstances, hearing that she had a seventeen inch waist caused me (in a fit of insanity) to measure the Captain, who, with his twenty-one inch barrel, would split her precious black garments if he tried to wear them. The Captain is bigger around than at least one adult human woman who has existed, and I told him that to his face. I measured him, and told him that while drowning out his meows requesting kibble. And there is the story of how I wound up drawing the dumbest thing I have drawn all year.
We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers.
Let me clear something up, immediately. I am not a crazy survivalist type who stores up rations and first aid kits and jugs of water because I believe that there is an impending Dooms Day at hand. I am not afraid that there will be some huge world war, or nuclear holocaust, or what else is there — Armageddon? The Rapture? Whatever. None of that is anything that preoccupies my mind very much.
However, whenever I consider maybe going in for some treatment, as many of my friends and acquaintances do, as many friends actually recommend that I try out, I get a very real fear that if I do so, if I give in and just seek outside help, then the world as we know it will swirl down the drain and we will be living in a nightmarish post-apocalyptic situation where it’s every man for himself and all prescriptions will stop. So all of the medicated people will lose it, either physically or mentally or both. And I am not like “I want to keep my wits sharp!” I’m just like, if I got used to relying on mood stabilizers, I think it would be even more difficult to manage things in that situation. Sorry I can’t restructure society into something that is hopefully better, because my body is dealing with withdrawal and I can only sleep in this hollowed out log with a scrap of a blanket and cry. I mean, I probably will be doing exactly that, but I want it to not be because I am having medical withdrawal symptoms. Those somehow sound scarier and worse than what I’m used to.
I think this concern makes a lot of sense! But I guess in the back of my mind, it does seem slightly dramatic. And maybe like I’m making excuses. But I’d rather not cause end of the world just because I was too tired to go on like I am. Maybe you all should be thanking me!
Hold up, everyone. We’ve got a brand new celebrity on the scene! We are excited and very pleased to announce that finally, FINALLY, we can brag that we knew a superstar before they were known. Finally, someone we know has risen from rags to riches (eventually riches, we assume). From the streets, abandoned, from NOTHING, this lady has become the toast of New York City, probably. Laika has made it.
Mark Twain was born on November 30th in the year 1835. His name then was Samuel Clemens but he obviously changed it at some point. According to this documentary I watched about him once, he had an exciting life and a complicated personality. I encourage you to go on ahead and learn more about him for yourself. He was also a humorous man, and if anything happened in the world, the newspapers would ask him for his opinion, because he was pretty good about only speaking in quotable soundbites. Later, people would gather these quips into quote books, so that we could always learn from his eternal, universal wit and wisdom. Also, he wrote books and stories.
I was made to read a few of his books in school — I assume we all were. And I really hated Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I know it was “important” for a bunch of reasons, but I hate books written more or less phonetically. It was a pain. I don’t remember anything about it aside from how much I couldn’t stand how river people of the 1850s spoke. I can see how it was so amazing, or whatever, that he represented people from all classes and how they spoke, but I just couldn’t take it! Anyway, there have been a couple of short stories that I HAVE particularly enjoyed. One is “The Facts Concerning the Recent Carnival of Crime in Connecticut” and the other is The Mysterious Stranger.
Our cats are tricksters, escape artists, bold, too smart or too stupid. This is not to say that our cats are different than other cats. They are all pretty much the same. They are less like pets and more like shiftless roommates, forever late on the rent and refusing to clean up after themselves. We provide illustrated guides to them, once monthly.
Revered philosopher, martial artist, and film star Bruce Lee was born on November 27, 1940. Because he died in 1973, his spirit had to appear in front of us in his true form. We are honored to depict him here in the midst of an iconic pose, drawing power from all points in the universe and spreading his upper body’s hood so as to appear larger to his foes. After this display, Mr. Lee always became indestructible and was thus able to right wrongs, and achieve justice in a world which seemed to be stacked against him. In his short time on Earth, Bruce Lee left a pretty good legacy and we all still enjoy being amazed by random clips of his antics to this very day.
We are a-movin’ and a-groovin’ at the Sneer Campaign Official Headquarters. A-hustlin’ and a-bustlin’, too. As many of you know, Sneer HQ was obtained last year after an exhaustive search for the perfect place to establish ourselves, our empire, in order to create a better future — for us, for Covington, KY, and ultimately for the whole world. However, for various reasons, Dollissa had to stay in New Jersey for a while. Well, now she’s here! Sneer House is now a Sneer Home.
I recently had an article about the benefits of procrastination. Aside from being probably the best article I have ever crafted, it is filled with great notions. It’s seriously long, so I imagine lots of you couldn’t make it through the whole thing, with your post-Mtv buzzfeed listicle brains, so I will give you a little summary: I humorously described how to still be productive while feeling guilty that you weren’t producing what you meant to be at that exact moment.
I still agree with that fully, but today there is a difference. When I had written that, I was still filled with the spirit of not-quite-efficiency. I had “up and at whatever” “can do some things” “go get ’em, someone, maybe, you tiger-shaped stuffed toy” spirit. Today, however, I am just a blob. This is not a depression. It’s just pure laziness. And I think that’s okay. I have believed the horrible things people think about laziness, too. But now, here, in the middle of a good powerful laze, I realize that I may have been being too hasty in my judgment.
Time for another old real life on the internet conversation comic! This time it is starring that always-delightful Kevin friend of mine. Kevin “KayFlay” Flasch-in-the-Pan. He’s definitely the star here, as you see that I am caught swirling after him, helpless in the wake of his caprices — merely a supporting character. A target.
Kevin is a very good friend of mine, and maybe some day he will write for us. In the meantime he can occasionally generate content in the forum of conversations with me where he basically mentally and emotionally abuses me because that is apparently a hobby of his. He is the sassiest person. This is what friendship looks like to me and is it any wonder that I don’t form close bonds with people??
You probably won’t need to click to see things bigger for this comic, but you can if you want to. I believe in providing you with options.