Monday, June 19, 2017




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A Few More Tributes to Adam West
by Alan Archer and...


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...Stev-o



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 -Strange City- 






















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All my life, I’ve often seen pieces of the daily newspaper lying about on the floor. Often it’s simply because it fell off the coffee table, but there are folks who like to sprawl out on the floor to read (I prefer sprawling out on the couch). The moral of today’s ‘toon is "Be careful what you wish for."! Okay, yes, that’s pretty cliché, but aren’t most comic strip jokes? 


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I’m pretty sure they’ve never made the perfect movie. From the blind man wearing a wristwatch on The Ten Commandments to the visible safety glass between Indiana Jones and a cobra on Raiders of the Lost Ark (since corrected), every movie seems to have at least a few lapses in continuity. I have often wondered how the laws of physics can possibly allow for what goes on in the Star Wars universe. Candace’s willingness to voice these questions gets her banned!



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Bad dreams are a funny thing. They’re all really a matter of perspective. To me, dreaming of falling out of a plane with a malfunctioning parachute would easily qualify as a nightmare, but for Candace it was more of a wardrobe error. For a time, my childhood was somewhat plagued by nightmares that, looking back on, are quite silly. But people tend to be much more skeptical when they grow up, and the irrational phobias that once filled me with a primal terror just make me chuckle now. Oddly enough, however, my arachnophobia, which isn’t disabling, is worse now than it was when I was a boy! Go figure.


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Personally, I think Candace might need to get her eyes checked. Wearing goggles can help you see crystal clear underwater (in a swimming pool), and I have no explanation as to how she mistook the legs of a child for those of her adult roomie! Swimming really seems to bring out the worst in Candace, and it looks like she’s about to answer to a less-than-happy mom! Illustrating someone jumping up out of the water is tricky for me, but I think I did all right in the third panel. Coloring the first half of this cartoon was a breeze!


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While Candace can attack housework and yardwork with great zeal, she seems to have trouble getting motivated to do things that actually bring in money. Thanks to her setting the bar so low, she now has quite a bit of leverage when asking the boss for a favor, which really doesn’t seem right. 


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Just like Candace, I get a lot of laughs from watching Laurel & Hardy, although I do not wear a bowler hat. I’d like to further explore this theme of Candace’s love of black-and-white comedy shorts. If I knew anything about animation, I might even create a short spoof on silent film comedy starring the two roomies (and Fido)!


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Introducing Mister Googly Eyes! Candace’s sock puppet first appeared in a cartoon I drew years ago, in which she unsuccessfully tried to entertain her cynical boss. The puppet has made a few returns since, and I have decided to turn him into a recurring character, such as he is. In Mister G.’s first Sunday comic appearance, he comes across as somewhat of a flirty pest who ends up with a T.V. remote crammed in his mouth!

















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Stev-o On Funny Pages


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                      Poet On His Throne of Stones                

The Poet on his throne of stones,
the Poet in his mind of bones,
contemplating his cigarette.

When you look into the ocean,
 what on Earth do you see?
Go ahead, play the role of genius,
                                             we’ll wait.



When you look into each wave,
do you see the history of each man?
Go ahead, smoke your cigarette in silence.

When you peer into your mind of bones,
that graveyard in your skull-like bowling ball,
do you see a thousand years like a match?

When you strike that match against your muse,
do you see paradise or wasteland?
Go ahead, smoke your cigarette in silence.


                                                                  We’ll wait.


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The Sounds In The
Faraway Room

The sounds in the faraway room, are like artillery
from half way ‘round the world.  They are the roars
of hollow lions.  The silence of the dead is no better. 
I hear all the conversations of the dead, by default. 
Words have always piled up like leaves in a yard.

The mind sees faces where there are none, hears
words coming from the house of the spectral tongue.
 
                     This is a world of ghosts.


Today is forever wrapped like a fish in yesterdays’
newspaper.  There is a yellow tinge to all life, my love. 
Soon we shall rendezvous. We shall meet in a mouth. 
Dance in its cavities. Loosen its words, cast them upon
the wind, to be heard like the sounds in the faraway room.








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