CSotD: Answers to questions you didn’t ask me
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My Three Sons.
No, the cartoon is Barney and Clyde.
To the best of my knowledge, the term "the hairy eyeball" originated with Chip Douglas.
You're welcome.
You're also welcome for alerting you to the story arc beginning in Candorville. I don't know where it's headed, but the voices-from-beyond arcs in this strip are always worth following.
This arc in Adam@Home is not likely to plumb the same depths as whatever Darrin Bell has in mind, but it's likely to provide some laffs and we like laffs.
And, as it unfolds, you can ask artist Rob Harrell all about it, if you happen to be in Kenosha this week, because he'll be there. Darrin was there last year.
And Todd Clark, who does Lola, was in Kenosha the year before that. Today's strip is funny enough as your basic Cubs gag, but more remarkable for the courage it took to challenge lead time, given how fate can shift for Chicago's baseball teams this time of year.
I actually have no idea what the lead time for Lola is, so I don't know how bold Todd was being. What I should have said is that it's remarkable that, as of this morning, the Cubs have a 16-game margin in their division, making lead time for the cartoon somewhat immaterial.
Quick: Before this moment of zen becomes outdated:
In other rumors and myths
Clay Jones goes after the truly deplorable way in which tinfoil has replaced thought in the electoral process this time around.
As he notes, a scratchy throat developing into pneumonia is pretty inconsequential, unless you are looking to prove a conspiracy, which it doesn't. (It should be noted that the Trump campaign is being restrained, though that basket of half his followers is not.)
Here's how things have changed: At the end of August, 1960, Nixon had to suspend his campaign to deal with an injury to his knee. Both the coverage and the response seemed to have a little more dignity and class than we've seen this time around:
As it turns out, it was likely more serious than anyone let on at the time. Or it may have been the starting point of something serious.
Later on in his career, Nixon was plagued with phlebitis stemming from his left knee, resented having to deal with it and, eventually, was killed by a blood clot that went to his brain.
It should be noted that, had he not resigned earlier, his 1974 hospitalization would have come in his second term.
But we're not talking second terms for anyone yet, and his health problems on the campaign trail were for what would have been, had he won, a much earlier administration.
And then there was this, in March, 2001:
My memory is of the joke going around the newsroom when the operation was announced, "If something happens to Cheney, who becomes president?"
Some historical perspective: Woodrow Wilson's stroke was not kept from the public, nor was the fact the FDR used a wheelchair. However, the degree to which Wilson was disabled was kept quiet, and FDR's difficulty in getting around was kept from the public eye.
Cheney's role in the so-called Bush Administration was similarly masked. If you wanted to know who was calling the shots, you knew. If you didn't want to know, nobody would spoil it for you.
And a few months later, we weren't allowed to make jokes about the president anymore anyway, because, after September 11, it wasn't patriotic to question his judgment or his decisions.
Or Cheney's.
Whatever. One more little fact nobody asked me about.
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