The New Revolution Will Be Advertised in Four Colors

Since its proto-era, cartoons and comics books have embraced social and political agendas (often of the left-leaning variety). Exploding WWII propaganda across its pages in the 40s; cowering in the corners of the Red Scare and hogtied by religious and right wing political fervor in the 50s [The CODE! The dreaded CODE!]; earnestly addressing social issues in the 60s (mostly thanks to Stan and the "King"); embracing subculture and sneakily promoting elements of universalism in the 70s (partly thanks to one of my favs, Tony Isabella); flipping the bird at the establishment in the 80s; sucking its thumb in the 90s [Worst. Decade. Ever.]; commercializing the idea of the “Other” in the Aughts; and, I suppose, galvanizing itself in the teens: Something is now brewing in mainstream comic books... something akin to a REVOLUTION. A more overt sense of resistance is expressing itself in many Marvel, some DC, and quite a few Image books. My daughter (and her dad with a horrifying “case of arrested development” (-- Hemingway)) still reads some of the best of these books and the new _X-Men: Red_ is the ideal representation of what “conventional” comics can inspire in readers. The most recent issue, #5, by Tom Taylor and Mahmud A. Asar reminds my genes (the part that is European and Russian Jew), my ideology (ummm… far left), and my (lack of) belief structure (pluralistically plural with a heaping dose of Pope Francis) that the fight is on! I’m beyond thrilled that my 16+ year old daughter can find an ideological similitude in the comic books she’s reading. The New Revolution is in four colors. As Jean Grey(-Summers) (a.k.a., Phoenix) says in the last panel of the most recent issue, "We're going to crush the lies. We're going to weaponize the truth." Check it out:

"Dr." Steve(n) [sic] "Strange" Ditko

Steve Ditko died. The co-creator of Spider-Man and Dr. Strange was an enigmatic figure and, without a doubt, my favorite illustrator. Period. I’ll spend more time discussing his importance to me later… but for now, I’ll share my only actual encounter with "Ditko the Dictator":

In the winter of 1988-89, I was an intern for Terry Kavanagh and Bobbie Chase at Marvel Comics. I was absolutely in love with the place and people and nearly considered leaving college to work my way towards being an assistant editor and, maybe even, an editor (or, imagine, a writer). At the time, Steve Ditko was working on a comic he co-created with Tom DeFalco, Speedball. [I wondered even then if the character’s name was some response to the drug epidemic and knowing what I now know about Ditko, it was probably implied in some Randian complexity.] He made, what I understood to be, a rare appearance at Marvel headquarters to drop off work for Terry. I was asked to Xerox his art boards. At the time, it was not lost on me that I held, in my stupid hands, Ditko’s original drawings. When I returned with copies, Steve was sitting alone in Terry's office. He was rather in tatters and maybe even ill-kept, but when I handed back his illustrations, he smiled at me. There he was… the person who helped to birth Spider-Man and Dr. Strange (the latter, likely a sole creation)… and what did I ask him about? What fer cryin’ out loud did I ask him!? Rom! I asked him about his run on Rom, Spaceknight! It was a silly question, something like, “How did you like working on that comic?” He responded kindly but in a few words. Still, he responded. He had a reputation for being reclusive, maybe even cantankerous, but he smiled at me and responded to my inane question. Steve Ditko! My favorite artist ever!

And just a little while ago I found out that he had passed away alone at 90, discovered several days after dying. Turns out, politically speaking, we probably would’ve hated each other’s guts; but artistically, the expansive claustrophobia (oxymoron implied) he built into his panels and his stories seems more important to me than just about anything else I’ve ever absorbed in the medium. For tonight, politics be damned. Ditko rules!

A Return to Chili Days

From our garden, the first tested chilies of 2018 (from left to right): Criolla Sella (hottest and tastiest of the bunch, but still only middlin’ heat; citrus fragrance with a hint of pineapple sweetness); Takanotsume (a.k.a., “Hawk Claw,” should be hotter than it is; dry and peppery); Chintexle (a pequin plant of burning tears that, for some reason, birds love; ripened pods have a soft flesh and make a nice paste); and Ram’s Horn (a cayenne on steroids; mild but smoky — great grilled).

Morgan Roberts, R.i.P.

It would go something like this:

I’d say, “W.A.S.P.”

He’d say, “Helloween!”

I’d say, “Oh, uh,… Ratt.”

He’d say, “Goatwhore.”

I’d say, “Quiet Leppard.” [Shudder.] Then, "I suck."

He’d say, “Slinger – a cross between Slayer and Winger.”

I’d almost ask, “Umm, Europe?”

He’d say, “Anal Vomit.”

Clearly, we know WHO'S THE BOSS at the verbal game, "Identifying the Most God Awful Metal Band Names"... as well as just about every other game. 

Damn, Morgan! You ARE the God of all things brilliantly, horribly, artistically, terribly, wonderfully ridiculous and not.

As Waverly said after the death of Dr. Witcombe in The Abominable Dr. Phibes, "A brass unicorn has been catapulted across a London street and impaled an eminent surgeon. Words fail me, gentlemen."

They fail me too.

Peace now.

[Me, "The Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza. Check it!"]

Der weinenden Kinder Nacht!

“The night of crying children!

It is entirely impossible for me to use this digital space to share anything remotely representing the happy family life I have while America rips children from their parents’ arms. This country, still heavy, very heavy, with its original sins, seems hell-bent upon creating new ones. How will future generations look upon this time? 

Der weinenden Kinder Nacht!

When Hate Doesn’t Fully Explain It

As the Orange Clown leads his traveling Circus of the Absurd from a leveled G-7 summit in Manoir Richelieu to what’s bound to be a complete catastrophe in Singapore, I’m breaking my silence:

I’ve hated people. The bully who tormented me in 2nd grade; Luis who threatened to kick my ass every day after school in 6th grade (but never did); that asshole who nearly made life impossible throughout high school (you know who you are); that sinister, smirking, side-mousing pile of bleached hair who almost sent me to the looney bin in college; that priest; Sister Catherine; the punk who blindsided me in a fight... I’ve hated them all! 

Yet, the vitriolic levels of abhorrent loathing I feel for that bloated carrot-puke of a disaster zone who bully-tweets his outrage while expelling his feces all over the planet agitates every atom in me that despises every atom in him.

My mother would say, “Hate is a strong word.” To that I would reply, “Not strong enough!”

From the Metal God's Mouth to Your Ears

The last sentence of this morning's Trump Twitter fecal discharge: "Money from the campaign, or campaign contributions, played no roll in this transaction." How are we to interpret this "roll" in regards to his affair with Stormy Daniels? "Roll" in the hay? "Roll" of fat? "Roll" of the dice? Bank "roll"? "Roll" out the welcome mat? "Roll" over and play dead? Sex, drugs, and rock and "roll"? "Roll" off the tongue? "Roll" your eyes? Ain't fittin' to "roll" with a pig? "Roll" back the years? "Roll"...? Nah, as the Metal God, Rob Halford (of Judas Priest!) sang, "If the man with the power/ Can't keep it under control/ Some heads are gonna roll..."

America Is Not a Christian Country

“Let the one who is thirsty come” (Revelation 22:17).

I realize that this is often repeated; but with all that is ripping this country apart (not even at its seams), with a “Christian” president and other "religious" elected officials bent on preserving guns, closing borders, ostracizing others, and smoking and exhaling only themselves and their egos, I would like to point out, once again, that America IS NOT a Christian country. Many of its values are no longer represented in any of the world’s great religious or belief structures and practices… Not even Satanism (which, as I understand, has a powerfully selfless component). America’s leaders are building their own religion (of self-aggrandizement, of greed, of malnourished righteousness, of humorlessness, of controlling expression, and exhibiting fundamental meanness). America is a disparate collection of polls representing some of the worst of and in us. “The time is out of joint,” and our dislocated priorities will leave another mother’s son destroyed, another father’s daughter violated, another friend erased, another horrible headline and another horrible headline and another.

Politicians proclaiming their belief in Christ are deceivers to the core.

Gun rights advocates, NOT CHRISTLIKE!

Anti-immigration supporters, NOT CHRISTLIKE!

Violators of women and children, NOT CHRISTLIKE!

Self-centered, egomaniacal Tweeters, clearly NOT CHRISTLIKE!

So, what are they? Imposters, swindlers, charlatans… And what do they truly worship? Themselves. So what do we call them? Evil (and not even in the Satanic sense).

These are evil people enabling evil people to perform atrocities for evil agendas be they Christians (in America), Jews, Muslims, or Buddhists (in Myanmar). Evil is as evil does.

And if you don’t like that I proclaimed your belief structure and its adherents as “evil,” prove otherwise. I know you can.

Mixing Disparate Blogs

This is likely to be a very rare mixing of my two blogs, "Daily Reamer" (https://dailyreamerkeller.blogspot.com/) and this space devoted to the personal, the political, and the pepper.

Of the thousands of original cartoons I have of Reamer Keller's, this one touches upon the political -- a pronounced statement of conservative (read: simpleminded) narrow-mindedness (redundancies implied).

Valentine from Trump

Just issued holiday press release from Prez Trump: "On this 'terrific' Valentine's Day, I would like to send a big heart-shaped box of Russel Stover Private Reserve chocolates to all my 'winning,' 'amazing,' 'tremendous,' and 'huuuge' supporters. To the 'stupid,' 'weak,' 'loser,' 'zero,' and 'out of control' Demoncrats, fake media, and just about everyone else, these 'bad' neon goo-stuffed chocolates." [Written using 12 of Trump's most often used adjectives.] Happy February 14th!

Fear U.S.A.

The original from the 70s and my update:

It's a mad, crazy, cracked world... and here's proof:

Our daughter has been poring over old issues of Cracked magazine (preferring it to Mad... or Crazy) and discovered this parody 'toon of Doonesbury. In November '91, nine years before the Simpsons' prediction, Cracked foresaw a Trump White House.

Chain Rattling

I’m trying my damnedest, but I just don’t have the "Christmas spirit." The tree is decorated, our plans are taking shape, family and friends are on the way, menus are set, gifts are magically appearing in stockings… but I can’t muster that "joyeux Noël." Sure, Christmas is America’s Viagra-induced orgy of consumerism, but charity often prevailed. This year, however, is bringing us a plague of Scroogery and Capital Vices (pun intended) that snuff the flames of understanding, generosity, kindness, and selflessness: Unbridled greed in the tax bill (enriching the rich, hogtying the middle class, and pillaging the poor); Saturnalian gluttony in the Senate and Congress (and Hollywood and academia and seemingly everywhere...); a president’s hubris that rivals the Fallen Angel’s; a lustfulness in men that gets more sinister with every daily revelation of abuses; an idleness that resigns us to this ugly, newly old America (while occasionally, lamely, lazily shouting out injustices on Facebook or blogs [read: this]); an envy that reimagines the “stars upon thars” mentality and will result in an epidemic of intolerance; and a senseless wrath that arms mass murderers and upends liberties. These behaviors undo reason (on both sides of the political spectrum) and eradicate centralism, compromise, appreciation, and promise. I’m trying my hardest to find humanity in this Inferno of heartlessness; but the men in power, in all their forms of power, are making it seemingly impossible for me to celebrate. To them ALL -- every Mitch, Paul, Mike, Orin, Harvey, Kevin, Roy, Charlie, Matt, James, Mario... -- I have a gift this year: A visit from the hooded, boney Ghost of Christmas Future. Yet, despite their humbug, their narrow-mindedness, vices, and lies, and for the sake of the season, I’ll emulate Tiny Tim and wish them all Merry Christmas and “God bless Us, Every One!" Yes, even the self-obsessed Antic Executive with the Fake Bake instant spray-on tan. [Ahhhh, now the Ghost of Christmas Past returns!]

This giant, mucus-covered, tangerine slug...

I’ve been doing everything I can to avoid responding to this insanity; but, this morning, El Supremo Orange Slimo denied allegations that he behaved inappropriately. He then tweeted about Senator Gillibrand, “[she] would come to my office ‘begging’ for campaign contributions not so long ago (and would do anything for them),” knowing full well how people would interpret “do anything for them.” I too would join the chorus of “Lock HIM up!” if one could keep a spineless tangerine slug behind bars. Instead, we should be pouring salt on this giant, mucus-covered gastropod. [For the sake of my sanity, I return to closing “the valves of [my] attention.”]

A Silver Lining?

A silver lining? After reading Billy Bush's editorial this morning, Maria texted me: "Without Trump, none of these allegations about sexual harassment would be brought to the table. He is doing a great service to the women’s movement." Every day more slimeballs slither into the swamp of insignificance... and we may have our groper-in-chief to thank. Whodathunkit?

The Rhetoric of Fathers

I keep hearing and reading a preface from fathers who share a default response to all the abuses being brought to light: "As a father of a daughter..." It's almost as if their eyes are finally opened to the great hardships their daughters have endured and/or will face. Really? Enough! I mean, as a "father of a daughter" how could you just be realizing this now? Stop using fatherhood as some excuse that separates you (as fathers) from this ancient behavior towards women and children because you have daughters. The fact that you're saying, "As a father of a daughter...," is not that far removed from looking at your daughters in a manner that somewhat objectifies them. Instead, raise your children in a way that doesn't modify their genders or identities as being the obstacles. You should be saying, "As my daughter's father, I take responsibility for how I behave. I model through example and she knows what's not acceptable."