CSotD: Juxtapositions of all kinds, including criminally stupid
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Please, let's start with the funny one:
(Zits)
Between Friends has had a wonderful arc going that might be called, "Fine, Make Your Own Damn Lunch!" except she couldn't quite say that. However, the first strip in the arc — complete with family friendly substitution — starts here. The arc is well worth the clicks.
The cynic would note that most kids rocket out the door at the last minute, or that a slacker like Susan wouldn't have those kinds of ingredients around the kitchen, but I've seen evidence of Emma-ism in young girls of a certain age and god bless'em. This could happen.
And, in the second half of the juxtaposition, there is no doubt that such a picnic would wow a girl, especially an Emma but also a Sara, nor is there much doubt that most guys wouldn't think of it on their own.
Of course, it's hardly the only way to wow a girl that a lot of guys wouldn't think of on their own, but as long as it's easier to spray on some Axe, or, in my era, splash on some English Leather or Jade East, taking a second shower towards the end of the day isn't gonna happen.
The picnic thing reminded me of one of the first dates of my second bachelorhood, in my mid-30s. The local Shakespeare in the Park was doing the Tempest and I invited a very attractive woman who also was a client (stupidstupidstupid). She had to work until just before the play started, however, so I said "Meet me there and don't worry about dinner."
When she arrived at the park, I was sitting in the grass with some nice cheese and crackers, fresh grapes and two splits of Chardonnay. She was wowed. She was also a lot cuter than she was interesting, and, when I didn't ask her out again, I stopped getting work from that publication. Plus I felt bad about not calling her.
Until I ran into her 30 years later and found out she had absolutely no memory of the event. Or of me. None.
Should have brought a bud vase and a single, perfect rose. Dammit, she'd have remembered that picnic, and then hated me for the rest of her life.
'Cause that was a great picnic. And I was a real prize.
Juxtaposition of Two Different Decades
(Mandrake the Magician, March 10, 1942)
(Big Ben Bolt, February 19, 1954)
Not even close to a Juxtaposition of the Day until now, when both these story arcs have popped up simultaneously on ComicsKingdom's vintage collection. Both Lothar and Ben are about to fight for the World Championship, albeit in boxing for Ben and pro-wrestling for Lothar, but that's not the juxtaposition.
The thugs in Mandrake kidnapped Lothar and he has escaped, but only after having his right arm disabled by a blow. But he still has time to make it to the bout.
Meanwhile, the over-demanding father of Ben's opponent struck him in anger during a training session, and Ben is now struggling with a moral dilemma brought about by the secret knowledge that his opponent can't use his right arm.
However — whether in boxing or wrestling or anywhere else — it's better to lose the use of your right arm rather than to lose your head entirely, which is the subject of our next juxtaposition:
Juxtaposition of the On-going Hubris
(Jordanian cartoonist, 2003?)
It probably should have been a clue when only our closest (read: most dependent) allies thought invading Iraq and toppling Hussein was even a good idea, much less necessary. But, then again, it should have been a clue that, if you have to make stuff up in order to justify an invasion, you probably need to rein in your hubris a little.
However, we ignored everyone else's misgivings and declared war on both Iraq and also on French fries.
Well, the phrase "he's a sonofabitch, but he's our sonofabitch" has been floating around for 150 years or so, and you could apply it to any number of tinhorn dictators we've backed, overtly or covertly.
But there are sonsofbitches like Tito and Saddam Hussein who aren't even our sonsofbitches but who do keep a lid on some toxic situations, which only becomes apparent after their death, when all hell breaks loose.
And — outright, soul-damning fabrications about WMDs and al Qaeda links aside — even if all the murder and rape we accused Saddam of turns out to have actually happened, he didn't run up the numbers that have emerged since and that continue as we speak.
So here we are. Yes, greeted as liberators, covered in flowers and candy by the grateful Iraqi people who were just waiting for the opportunity to put aside their own history and culture and electrical service and personal safety so they could adopt our values.
I doubt Ariail ever saw this cartoon, or, at least, had any memory of it when coming up with his current panel, because I have searched for it in vain and it doesn't seem to have gotten any play beyond the moment.
As I explained in my 10-year wrap up of Iraq war cartoons, I printed it out for use in a classroom presentation back when it was new and the printer truncated it. I didn't realize that until I was in front of the class and it didn't matter at the moment, so I don't know whom to credit.
But, whoever he was, he sure as hell told us so.
I didn't link that 10-year-wrap up on first reference because I'm sending you there now so you can be deeply depressed by what on earth we have wrought. And do not fail to click on the Ann Telnaes slideshow at the bottom.
And if you think only the peaceniks and lefties are calling for us to not kill anymore of our kids in this insane quagmire, here's a very direct message from a frontline Gulf veteran who would simply like to see the liars and chickenhawks put their own bodies on the line in Iraq this time before they ask anyone else to step up.
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