Fleas and Thank You

Bizarro is brought to you today by Seeing Eye Dogs.

Here's an alternate take on the "my wife doesn't understand me" cartoon cliche. I like using standard cartoon setups in new ways, not sure why, just do.

I don't like to blow my own horn but someone sent me a link to the nicest thing anyone has ever written about me and I cannot resist passing it along. (If that link doesn't work, try this url: http://blog.cagle.com/greenberg/2010/06/08/bizarrely-acknowledged/ )Plus, if it gets a lot of hits, maybe they'll write more nice things about me and eventually people will begin to believe them. I hope you don't lose respect for me.



I may not post for a few days, have to run out to L.A. to host a movie premiere Thursday night – not the new Jake Gyllenhaal Hollywood blockbuster, but a documentary about the fur trade. Come by and say hi if you're around. CHNW and I are interviewed in the film, maybe we come off like dweebs, I have no idea as I haven't seen it yet.

Then Saturday I may be motorbiking up to Woodstock Sanctuary to attend our annual June Jamboree. Come by there for sure, it's way fun and a great way to knock down a couple hours on a summer afternoon. Be sure to find me and say hello if you do. I like people who say hello.

Naughty Priests

Bizarro is brought to you today by Unconventional Clerics.

I probably should have predicted that this cartoon would receive some complaints but I didn't. I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic Schools, was even an altar boy, and even though I am atheist now, one thing I've always liked about Catholics – over some other Christian denominations I've been acquainted with – is that they tend to have a pretty good sense of humor about their beliefs. That doesn't include every Catholic, obviously, so objections and outrage were expressed.

My suspicion is that the outrage wasn't as much about this cartoon as about public scrutiny of Catholics in general. Because some Catholic priests have been under attack in recent years for their improprieties with children, some Catholics are more sensitive than they might otherwise be.

Here's my amateur "expert" opinion on the pedophilia situation, and remember, it's worth what you're paying for it:

Nobody determines their sexual appetite, it just happens to us. Gay, straight, fat, thin, young, old, blonde, brunette, we like what we like and we can't change that. Many people with unpopular or even illegal sexual proclivities – homosexuals, pedophiles – are raised to feel guilty about their desires and some attempt to take refuge in the celibacy of the priesthood. I seriously doubt any of these priests joined the priesthood with the intention of molesting anyone. My guess is that they thought that their faith and lifestyle within the church would protect them from their desires. But sexual desire is among the strongest forces known in nature and most people cannot keep theirs at bay forever. So they give in and then go to great lengths to try to hide it.

I think it bears noting that there has never been a shortage of priests who break their vows of celibacy in legal ways, but they don't make headlines because they have not broken the law and the sex was consensual. Celibacy is a bitch, no matter who you are or what your reasons. (You may quote me.)

This is in no way meant to imply that homosexuals are pedophiles or that homosexuality is even in the same class of socially dangerous behavior. I only grouped them together here in the category of "sexual orientations likely to cause guilt." While sex with children is a devastating act that can never be condoned and guilt is therefore appropriate, we have only ourselves to blame for making homosexuals feel guilty about relations between consenting adults. The notion that homosexuality between consenting adults is "wrong" is archaic and, quite frankly, idiotic. Even more idiotic are people who think that anyone "chooses" their sexual orientation. If you are one of these people, ask yourself if you chose yours. Now ask yourself if you could completely change those desires if you put your mind to it – become gay if you're straight, or vice versa. Of course not.

Regarding this cartoon, just as the vast majority of priests have not molested children, I suspect that virtually none share what they hear in confession. The preposterous nature of the scenario is what makes it funny. If it's funny at all, of course.

That's my take on the predatory priest situation. For what it's worth, in all the years I was a kid in the church, no one ever said or did anything to me that was in the least inappropriate. Which, to be honest, made me feel ugly and undesirable.*

*Kidding. No more complaints, please.

Super Babies

Bizarro is brought to you today by Labor Pains.

I like this cartoon because I don't like people who take their kids too seriously. It is natural to think your baby is special: smarter, cuter, cleverer, stronger, faster, quicker, more intelligent, more talented. It's fine, it feels good, it's as it should be, but it is important to realize that it isn't true. It is a simple trick of evolution. If we weren't irrationally in love with our own babies, we'd kill them the first time they woke us up at 4am or puked into our hair. The simple truth that your ancient parental programming is hiding from you is this: your kid is average.

I raised two daughters to be happy, productive adults, so I have some experience in this matter, and, I am a self-proclaimed, unlicensed expert on human psychology and childhood development. As hard as your brain fights to battle my assertion, do yourself a favor and try to consider that I might be right.

Mathematically speaking, your kid has as much chance of being anything but average as you do of winning the lottery, and, as they say, the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math. Overwhelming odds say your kid is average. Almost all of us are. That's the definition of the word.

And it means your precious little angel will be happy and healthy having an average childhood in which it plays with a ball, scribbles with crayons, and chews on a rag doll. It doesn't need Mozart in the crib or a French-speaking au pair or mommy/baby yoga class or chess lessons or tennis camp. And it most certainly does not need your constant interference and direction. Don't force yuppie activities on your kid seven days a week in hopes of developing the next superstar at something or other. What you'll develop is the next Lindsay Lohan. Your kid will hate you in the long run and everyone else will hate you now.

What your kid does need is affection and common sense discipline. If you don't have that to give then god help you both.

(This post is only meant for other people, of course, not you. Your kid actually is amazing and all the other parents are jealous. But let's keep it just between us. :)

Stinging Whiskers












(To view this cartoon as large and clear as a plexiglass barn, click on a bee.)

Bizarro is brought to you today by Hirsute Alphabet.

I've always been fascinated by any attempt to build a beard out of something other than facial hair. Who isn't, am I right? Waffle beards, wax beards, carpet goatees, sideburns of mango skins, they're all amazing in their own right. But the top of the heap, as far as replacement facial hair substances go, is live, stinging insects.

This cartoon idea came from my friend, colleague, and occasional collaborator, He Who is Known as Wayno. Wayno has a beard of earthworms, as he is allergic to bee stings and could be killed quite easily by a stunt such as the one shown here. I admire his efforts but have to say that it is not as riveting as one made of bees. In fact, it's pretty disgusting and he must lie flat on the ground at all times to keep them from just sliding off his face. Sometimes he wonders if it is even worth it.

I've read that there is a man in Australia who plans to attempt to outdo the beard of bees early next year with a mustache made of sharks. Let's all wish him well.

To see more art by Wayno, a genuinely nice man whom you can feel good about supporting, go to these places:
Nice Butts
Hot Chicks
Total Hunks

God's Lice

Bizarro is brought to you today by The Heavens.

I was musing one day about people's various ideas of "heaven." The idea of an afterlife of any kind is not one that I embrace at all, I think it is no more likely than a pre-life, of which there was most certainly none to my knowledge. Sorry if I offended any reincarnation believers, it just isn't something I can accept. If it works for you, go for it.

I've done a lot of cartoons about the cliche heaven with angels and clouds and while writing gags a few weeks ago, I suddenly thought; what if they aren't clouds? What if we were lice in God's beard? To my mind, it makes as much sense as any of the other ideas I was brought up with and it gives me a chuckle. In fact, there has likely been a culture that believed something similar; just about anything you can imagine about the origin of the anything, the meaning of life, the consequences and conditions of birth and death have been thought of before and had an alter built about them. Why not bugs in God's beard?

So there's the genesis of this cartoon. If there is a god, I hope he/she/it isn't mad at me for making so many jokes about religion. I'm just trying to make people smile. Honest. (fingers crossed)

Stress Musings

Bizarro is brought to you today by Auto Obesity.

My life is a big gooey slithering wombat of stress right now. I'm working on a couple of big projects outside of Bizarro (details later, maybe), CHNW and I are preparing to sell our place in Brooklyn and move away from NYC (a feat of idiotic proportions considering the clutter of our house is rivaled only by the seething demonic chaos of all the crap we have stored in the basement), and my finances and psyche are in disarray. Those last two things are more or less a constant, but it certainly doesn't help at times like this.

Why am I telling you this? Because I can't afford a therapist and since I live in NYC, I can't afford a bartender, either. A single beer in NY costs as much as a six pack of fine foreign ale, a cocktail is as much as a bottle. Just one of the many reasons we're ready to leave the Big App.

But then there are my friends, whom I love even though I am not terrifically social and only see them a few times a year. I will miss them. And we'll miss the cool concerts up at Woodstock Sanctuary. So is this the right thing to do? The climate here puts me in such a dark funk so many months out of the year that I see my decision to move to warmer environs as a matter of self defense, so on that level it seems very right. Maybe even necessary.

I haven't completely decided what to do yet, but thanks for listening. Meanwhile, it's back to my life: a joke-a-day or starve in the streets.

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