Comic Con

Don't come by my house this weekend looking for me, I'll be in San Diego at the world's biggest comics convention. If you've never been, you should go. And no need to take recreational drugs ahead of time, the tens of thousands of attendees are beyond the strangest mushroom trip anyone's ever experienced.

If you're going, come by the NCS (National Cartoonists Society) booth and say hello. I'll be selling and signing books, trading cards, prints, and some of my old T-shirts, the ones that are too stained to wear or don't fit me anymore since I've been taking steroids. Since I'm not a spoiled professional athlete with way more money than couth, autographs and pictures with me are completely free. I will be charging for sketches, however, but they're well worth it since I draw not with ink, but with my own blood from a self-inflicted bullet wound in my leg. You don't get that kind of dedication from your average cartoonist.

Don't come to my house this weekend looking to rob it, either. CHNW will be there and she's currently fostering two rescued pit bulls. They love her and they won't like you.

Free Valium

This Bizarro is brought to you by the struggling executives of America's oil companies. "We don't want your pity, just your firstborn, an arm, a leg, your soul, and another Republican in the White House."

Since I live in NYC, the only city in America where you can not own a car and still get anywhere, anytime, any day of the year, the price of gas isn't on my mind all that much.

I drive a Vespa scooter, which used to cost me about $4 to fill up, now nearly $8. If I drive it a lot every day, which I rarely do unless I'm smuggling illegals in from Canada, I fill up once a week. More typically, I fill up once a month.

I do feel the crunch when I fly, however, airline prices are out of sight, and the cost of cabs and car services in NYC keep going up.

What is the best thing we can do to alleviate the gas crisis? Elect a president who isn't butt buddies with the Saudis. (The ones who blew up the towers. Remember?)

Am I a genius, or could a box turtle to figure this out?

Bubble Court

Bizarro is brought to you today by Where The Hell? Industries. "Answering the question, 'Where the Hell did THAT come from?' since 1985."

In all modesty, let me say that I love this gag. I have no idea where it came from or why, it just fell out of my head when I leaned over my drawing table to write gags one morning , and I giggled.

It features one of my favorite cartoon tricks, to draw a picture that at first glance looks like something familiar, and at closer inspection is something entirely different. I didn't invent this trick, of course, I've just always loved it.

Below is perhaps my favorite example of it of my entire career. Tonto points at smoke signals in the distance. Or does he?












Click on the image to biggerize it and get the full effect.

I included this cartoon in the retrospective-of-my-career-so-far book, Bizarro and Other Strange Manifestations of the Art of Dan Piraro. If you like me or my work, it's a must-have book. I'm not saying that just because I want to sell the books (without decent sales numbers, you can't keep publshing), but because it honestly is a great book for people who like my work. Lots of unpublished paintings, sketches, photos, as well as my favorite cartoons from over the years, a humorous autobiography (that I wrote myself!), stories from my comedy show tours, controversial opinions about everything from tofu to our ravaged nation, you name it.

Order a case or two here. You and your descendants will thank me.

Fruity Fun For Free

Bizarro is brought to you today by the Teresa Heinz Foundation for Condiment Awareness.

How often do you think to put fruit on your hamburger or hot dog? Or have pasta with fruit sauce? What about dipping your french fries in a fruit salsa?

Well even if you think you would never do such a thing, I am here to tell you that you would too! You do it all the time! For the plain scientific truth is, the tomato is a fruit, not a vegetable!!!

For eight more little-known facts, one of which has to do with handcuffs, go here.

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.

Non Bizarro Parade

Today's cartoon is not a Bizarro at all, and is brought to you by Parade Magazine. "Don't rain on us. Newsprint melts."

After decades of featuring Howard Huge and The Lockhorns in their comics section, Parade Magazine has recently taken on a small stable of different cartoonists to fill their page. I'm lucky enough to be one of them, and here are a few samples of ones they've run.

For the uninitiated, Parade is a semi-slick pull-out magazine that is included in Sunday newspapers all across the country. Many hundreds of markets, more markets than Bizarro's daily list, for sure. So this is nice exposure for me and a little extra money here and there. My drug habit being what it is, I can always use extra money.

They even have a caption contest now and then, which is fun. A couple of the future caption contests will feature my cartoons, so keep an eye out for them.

The first cartoon above is one of my favorites that Parade has bought. I like technology and always get a kick out of learning something new on my computer or phone, but I didn't grow up with it so it is more intimidating to me that it is for those of you under thirty.

I'm not a complete klutz, I've never taken a picture of my ear while trying to make a call, but I have spent 11 minutes sending a text message that would have taken me 11 seconds to speak, only to be texted back four paragraphs of copy less than a minute later. Who are these people with such fast and nimble fingers and why aren't they heart surgeons?

I've always loved lava lamps and am fortunate to have an original one from the 60s (exactly like this one, sans coffee mug) which came with CHNW when we married. Some would say that's not much of a dowry, but I'm happy with it. I also like volcanoes, but I don't have one.














I like this penguin joke, too. Tiny Speedos on just about anything other than a hot babe, are just inherently funny. Or disgusting. I actually have two swim suits: a baggy surfer-style one that I use for American beaches, and a small Euro-style Speedo (like this size) that I wear to foreign beaches. It's actually more comfortable and I don't feel as if I'm swimming in a dress, as I do with the big baggy American one. But wearing the small suit on an American beach just makes me feel conspicuous. People tend to assume I'm gay (partly because of the suit and partly because I am so good-looking and have such a great body) or an exhibitionist. I'm sure you ladies know what I mean when I say that being hit on by men is not conducive to a relaxing day at the beach.

Whispers and Shouts

Today's Bizarro cartoon is brought to you by Subvocalized Punch Lines. "Act them out in your head, they're funnier!"

It has been my experience that people read in very different ways. Really good readers, with large, bulging, veiny brains, can glance at words, understand their meaning in a microsecond, and move on at tremendous speed.

Average readers, like me, tend to hear a voice in their head saying the words. (Don't get me wrong, I am an avid reader and can achieve the glancing technique when I just want the info and don't care about style, but when reading for fun I slow way down.)

Then there is the third type, who move their lips and whisper as they read, usually more slowly than they would speak, often with their eyes half shut and a little drool on their chin. (This third type is not to be ridiculed, many such readers have attained great personal success.)

The punchline above is one that begs to be subvocalized, as the emphasis on the words is essential to the gag.

One of my pet peeves is when a cartoonist emphasizes the wrong words in a caption. I see this all the time. For instance, if during a heated debate one character says, "What are you talking about?!" the proper word to emphasize is "talking." But often, the word "about" or "you" will be emphasized instead. Say these aloud and hear which makes the most sense: What are you talking ABOUT?! What are YOU talking about?! (this version could make sense, but in the context of an argument, it isn't the emphasis you're looking for.) What are you TALKING about?!

That's a hypothetical example and sounds dumb, but believe me, I see this all the time. If I went on the Internets right now, I'm sure I could find an example somewhere and post it. But then I'd be deriding a colleague, which is not cool in my book. Unless it is Jim Davis, who no longer writes Garfield anyway and who could afford to buy the entire block across the street from my apartment in Brooklyn, turn it into an ice cream truck parking lot and leave the music on all night.