Smelly Sexy

Bizarro is brought to you today by King Tut.

This cartoon is simple wordplay, yes, but it makes me smile. It was dreamed up by my cartoonist, stand-up comic, long-time friend, Mike Capozzola.

What struck me as odd when I was drawing this cartoon is the way "pharaoh" is spelled, which I had never really noticed before I had to letter it by hand. How did the second "a" get thrown in there ahead of the "o?" I'm a fan of etymology (and also entomology, but that's a topic for a different post) but I don't know why this strange spelling exists. Usually, a foreign word that comes from a language with a different alphabet, like a Chinese word, for instance, is likely to be spelled phonetically in English. But that would mean that the word was originally pronounced "fay-ray-oh." Maybe that's the case, I don't know, or maybe it didn't come from the original Egyptian word. I could look it up, but it would cut into my leisure time.

Apparently, chemical compatibility is a huge indicator for sexual attraction. In other words, whether you're aware of it or not, you like the way your lover smells. I have experienced this myself on a few occasions (in my bachelor days) when a woman I was attracted to became instantly less attractive when I kissed her. It wasn't that she wasn't a good kisser, but something about the visceral experience of being that close was unappealing.

I knew a redneck guy from Oklahoma years ago who believed so ardently in the idea that women react sexually to a man's pheromones, that he would not bath regularly, confident that his B.O. would help him score. No, I'm not kidding. He even recommended this technique to his teenage sons.

But who am I to judge? Perhaps in his remote corner of Oklahoma, it worked.

For those of you keeping scorecards at home, I'm feeling much better today. The soupy, black miasma of depression left me midway through last evening and I'm normal again. Then I had a very good session with my therapist this morning which helped me to get a better grip on my issues and their effect on my will to live. I'm also extremely appreciative of all the comments readers have left on this blog, and supportive emails I've gotten since yesterday. This blog is sometimes as good a therapy as my visits to my shrink, and considerably cheaper.

You've made me feel like a pretty girl at the prom, and I thank you.

Injuns and Igloos

Bizarro is made possible by the Dick Cheney Institute for Early Childhood Development.

I am back at Bizarro International Headquarters again after a roaring weekend of insanity in Hollywood with my cartoonist colleagues. To those of you who expressed support and disappointment in my seventh consecutive loss of The Reuben Award, thanks a ton. Meanwhile, back in the real world, here are two cartoons since I'm a little behind on posting.

While writing cartoons one day it occurred to me that except for their size, pyramids and igloos look like they are two different models in the same line. Like the sample drawings you'd get in a container of Lincoln Logs. And voila, here's the cartoon. Now I need to do a companion piece about pyramids at the North Pole.

The Indian cartoon below is completely surreal, but I combined Godzilla and the Old West once before and liked the effect, so I tried it again. I confess I did not research the Indians, though, and it was pointed out that I got a few things wrong. The ground looks like the Southwest but Cherokees inhabited the middle-Southeast, and I'm told something about their costumes is wrong. I usually try to avoid mistakes like this but I was likely in a hurry when designing it and maybe even tripping on mushrooms. (CHNW and I are not very diligent housekeepers and have mushrooms and other things growing in our carpets. I sometimes trip over them, causing me to draw the wrong costume within a given context.)

But still, Godzilla and Indians! Hahahahahahahah!!!











(Click these cartoons to make them bigger and funnier)

Emergency

PLEASE HELP US!!!

Sorry to alarm you with this picture of your favorite cartoonist (let me have my fantasies) and his CHNW being mauled by a polar bear, but I felt the need to make a dramatic point. Read on, but relax, I assure you we were in no danger in the picture above.

I rarely ask anything of you but I'd like to ask you to help out CHNW and me today. As some of you know, we are founding board members of the Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary. It's expensive to rescue animals, what with all the night drops over enemy territory, ninja outfits, Navy Seal sharpshooters, etc., and charity dollars are way down in this currently creepy economy.

But here is the good news: a rich dude has promised he would match all the funds we could raise throughout May! We're as happy as a circus tiger with a trainer's arm in his mouth and are pushing hard to get some bucks to come in THIS MONTH. Please toss us a little (or a lot) something, every little bit helps and every dollar will be doubled! I can personally vouch that we're not rich, we work hard, and every penny goes to helping animals and the environment. For reals.

(NOTE: Some words in the text above have been italicized for your ease in picking out the important bits.)

Le Chick Cam

Please enjoy this live cam from Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary responsibly.

As happens frequently this time of year we received a call from a school teacher looking for a home for 5 just-hatched chicks -- the living, breathing result of a classroom project. As cute as these fuzzballs are, they will grow into larger hens and roosters who have a lot of space and care requirements, and can live for over a decade.

If you're a parent or student who hears of an upcoming hatching project, please encourage that teacher to consider more humane alternatives to hatching.

In the meantime, they're ridiculously cute, so during daytime hours EST you can see them live:


Financial times are tough for us all and even worse for charities. But for only a few bucks a month you can help these homeys get by. Anyone who donates to their care automatically becomes my BFF. For reals. Awesome. Dude.

BTW: that's a child's teddy bear in the cage, not roadkill.

Ash Wednesday

Since today is Ash Wednesday, I thought I'd post a short, special tribute to my ex-girlfriend and wife, Ashley, a.k.a. CHNW, whom I commonly call, "Ash."

Here she is wearing a coat that has bunny ears on the hood. She has related to non-human animals in a special way since early childhood and cannot seem to break the habit. (Anyone who makes a bestiality comment gets voted off the island.)

Here she is with a rescued fawn at Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary. The momma doe was killed by a car so we took in the fawn for a few days until we could find a wildlife rehabilitator. The fawn was fond of sucking on Ash's earlobe for comfort, which Ashley enjoyed, too. What a nice lady.

Here, she is very excited about a rescued calf at Woodstock, whom we named Dylan. He was found tied up inside a dark barn and was destined to be veal. That was a few years ago, now he is all grown up and the size of a Cadillac Escalade. He still comes to the fence when Ash calls him, and clearly has affection for her. She can no longer get inside the pasture with him, however, for he could accidentally crush her skull with a twitch of his upper lip. Did I mention he is large?

Here is the obligatory Ashley with chicken and donkey shot. This kind of thing tends to happen to her a lot, this time it was at Leilani Farm Sanctuary in Maui. Keen observers will notice there are two donkeys in this picture, one is pushing his nose into Ashley's butt. Who can blame him?

Here she is sharing a guava with said butt-muncher.

Speaking of butts, in this photo, Ash cleverly displays the world's largest nut, which comes from a palm tree of some sort. Since it is somewhat difficult to discern the nut from Ashley's own booty, I have included a picture of myself with said nut for proportion.















To conclude this special Ash Wednesday edition I offer this picture of Ash in a medieval helmet. This took place a couple of years ago in an Italian museum which does not employ enough guards to prevent this sort of thing.






(Special thanks to my buddy, Richard Cabeza, who's also married to an "Ash" and who reminded me of this special day.)

Still Not Dead

Many of you who read this blog have wished me well regarding the personal struggles I have mentioned lately. (shown, at left, singing the blues)

I really appreciate it, it means a lot to know you're thinking of me. Some have suggested chemical solutions – from anti-depressants to pot – thanks for those, too. I am on anti-depressants, have been since '96, and repeated efforts to live without them have failed. I'm not a big believer in pharmaceuticals and hate the industry, but it looks as if I'm a customer for life. Could be worse.

The problems I am experiencing are of a nature that I won't share in detail here, although I'd love to because I'm a real blabbermouth when it comes to my emotions (I have a strong feminine side in that way, and I'm Italian, known for our sentimentality.) But for all involved, it would be best if I leave it vague.

But whatever the cause, suffice to say that things are looking up and I'm feeling better. Life is a series of peaks and valleys and I'm happy to have this particular valley mostly behind me.
If the automobile of my heart runs out of gas on the way up the next peak and begins to roll back toward that valley, I'll hurl myself from the car and crawl.
If the pants leg of my insecurity gets caught on the side mirror, I'll rip my pants off and crawl bare-assed.
If an avalanche of childhood memories comes my way, I'll hop up and down like a Mario Brothers' character and dodge the boulders.
If the grizzly bear of self doubt grabs me and starts dragging me back toward the valley, I'll shove my anti-depressants into his mouth until he chills.

I'm not going back to that damned valley, do you understand?!

Thanks for reading.