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.