ICYMI, President Blutarsky gave a speech last night that has been compared to the memorable call to action that he delivered in college.
Proving that, while we walk away from politics each Friday, well, sometimes politics just won’t be walked away from.
Anyway, let’s see what the people who were actually trying to look ridiculous have been up to:
An easy segue, as Monty did a little historic fact-checking of its own.
To which I would add that, not only did Dear Leader have “Fort McHendry” under siege in the wrong war, but there were no rockets’ red glares at all in the Revolution, since Congreve didn’t develop military rockets until 1804.
You can’t be too careful about this stuff. When the 225th anniversary of the Battle of Saratoga rolled around, our newspaper being within musket range of the battlefield, I did some educational and promotional work that included re-fitting our doggie mascot in period costume.
I wish I had rinacat‘s first piece, because it showed Nellie in a mob cap with a drawstring and a couple of large buttons down the front of her blouse.
But in checking with F&I and RevWar re-enactors, we were told that mob caps and buttons were strictly 1812, that RevWar women pinned their clothing and wore bonnets that simply sat on their heads.
Re-enactors take this stuff seriously and perhaps Dear Leader’s speech writers should have checked with some.
Or perhaps a reasonably well-educated 10-year-old.
Change is no longer inevitable
I got a kick out of the story arc in Betty that began here, because I don’t carry cash anymore and so the panhandlers at traffic lights pose a problem.
Though not all that much of one. I was generous when I first got to Boulder in 1970 until I learned that the guy who needed to buy food for his dog used his takings to order a pair of custom calfskin trousers from a leather worker.
By the end of the summer, even the freaks would be spat on by the STP family for declining to share spare change, but decline we did.
The bulk of panhandlers around here, and I think most places, are not emotionally stable enough to hold jobs, but I really don’t carry cash and I don’t even want to know if they take swipe cards.
Meanwhile, Mark Anderson seems to have a grip on the subject of pans and handling them.
While, on the topic of aggressive begging, Pajama Diaries hit on one of my peeves and then deflated a major part of it.
I know there are people who come here and simply skim through for the comics, skipping all the wit and wisdom, so I shouldn’t be snide about on-line cooks who want to share their emotional associations with oven-baked brown rice when you just wanted to know the necessary time and temp.
And, as Rob suggests, I have some expensive cookbooks from which I have taken exactly one recipe.
What bugs me are the “Please let us spam you” pop-up requests. I recently installed the new “Brave” browser but found its pop-up blocker not only made much of the Internet incoherent but subjected me to messages asking that I disable it, since sites can’t function without ad revenue.
So I disabled it and now I pull up a recipe, start gathering the ingredients and, when I come back for more info, find it blocked with a “Please love us forever” message.
At least you can brace a cookbook so it doesn’t flop closed.
Or you can buy food ready-prepared, the way Arlo feeds Ludwig.
As he notes, this stuff is marketed to humans, not to cats.
Cats are notoriously finicky eaters, but, then again, desperation is tasty sauce and I haven’t heard of a cat starving because its owner refused to replace a bowl of Friskies with a “medley of bistro-inspired flavors.”
Granted, my only cat was an alley cat rescued by a young son, and he was not only grateful for whatever we offered, but was also one hell of a mouser and not the kind who brought you his catch.
If you wanted a mouse, you’d have to go find your own.
Cats all have attitude, but I particularly liked his.
And a pampered pet can have a shortened life. Several fancy-shmancy brands of dog food may fail to protect from heart disease, while making your own cat food is even more potentially dangerous for your pet.
At least nobody is suggesting that rabies vaccinations make your pet autistic.
Though it would sure explain a lot.
Perils of cartooning in real time
I remember when Newman the Golden Retriever first entered Kim’s life at Between Friends. It mirrored a conversation going on in cartoonist Sandra Bell Lundy’s own home, and both fictional and real-life woman gave in reluctantly.
But then had a change of heart, as seen in this 2010 strip.
I can’t add much to her Facebook explanation, except that I’ve been there and my current pal is only a few years younger than Newman, and is beginning to slow down.
And that, because Between Friends alternates among three women rather than centering on one household, Newman has never had the kind of foreground presence that Farley had in “For Better or For Worse.”
This spares Bell Lundy from needing to frame the kind dramatic send off Farley had, and allows her, rather, to focus on Kim’s reaction to something all pet owners have to deal with.
Here’s what the Master Teacher said about that other experience:
Here’s an interesting development in the Non Sequitur saga, whereupon an editor in the state of Washington shows a willingness to listen to readers and is not simply re-instating the strip but hosting Wiley to provide a presentation to readers.