This is a “meh” cartoon. It moves the story, but not much else. Cute, but not in a redeemable way. Looks nice. Not T’s fault. Just, “meh.”
Having a blog means sometimes having to say you’re sorry.
Full disclosure: I stole today’s title from bootsattheboar, a Hedge commentator over at comic.com.
Today’s comic is a rerun from 2008. T and I get two contracted vacation weeks per year. This does not mean we take vacations. Since we run so close to deadline, we use the vacation weeks to get slightly ahead — only to fall behind by the next vacation week. We should call them catch up weeks.
Or as Hammy calls them: Ketchup Weeks.
I love football — specifically college football. But with bigger and faster players the game has become ridiculously violent and dangerous — to heads.
I saw a report recently that linked ALS or Lou Gerhig’s Disease to repeated concussions. This is is on top of the well established connection between head trauma and Parkinson’s Disease.
I predict organized football at all levels will decline in popularity over the next ten to 20 years as efforts to make the game safer result in making the game duller. In the race between conditioning (natural and artificial) and padding, conditioning is going to win. I don’t think anyone wants to see players running around in Michelin Man suits.
Forgive me if I’m a little down on football this year. My first favorite team, Texas, has had an abysmal season (please fire the O.C. Greg Davis). My second favorite team, TCU, is probably going to get locked out of the National Championship despite an unbeaten season and the BCS’s absurd opposition to a playoff.
Still, I live in Texas and if football went away the entire state would sink into such a depression that it might suck the entire country down with it. Of course, a lot of people already think Texas is a sink hole. But it’s our sink hole and until football goes away it’ll be filled with Friday night lights and Saturday afternoon glory.
And beer. We can always fill it with beer.
3D movies are a gimmick to raise ticket prices (with the exception of Avatar). 3D TV is a conspiracy to get me to buy another HD flat screen to replace the one I haven’t paid for yet. I also look stupid wearing 3D glasses over my regular glasses. Or, I should say, stupider.
I’m going to wait for Holographic TV. It’s a lot closer than you think:
Hammy will be having Lucky Charms dust today instead of turkey, but that won’t stop him for being thankful for everyone who enjoys Over the Hedge. In comic strip, book, movie, commemorative sporks or whatever form you choose to imbibe.
Here comes a great big Hammy air hug to each and every one of you.
You missed it? Here it comes again. You missed it again? Pay attention. Again? You have to open your arms, dummy. One…two… three…. HUGGGGGGGG! Careful, he’s a squirrel, not your Aunt Dora. That’s enough. You can let go now. STOPPPPP!
Now that was just creepy.
Here’s another short film I did for Babelgum in which I recount my student cartooning days at Baylor University and the time when Playboy came to shoot Girls of the Southwest Conference.
Playboy coming to Baylor was big news for the student newspaper The Lariat where my friends and I all worked. We became embroiled in a test of wills over whether a student newspaper at a private college had the right to editorialize that adult women should be able to do adult things. It doesn’t.
Scholarships were yanked and we were told we would be happier elsewhere. Those of us not graduating packed up and headed to Austin and the University of Texas where we were hailed as conquering heroes.
For about a day and a half.
It was a important lesson in real politics at a young age. Baylor never cared about Playboy or bare breasted Baptists. By shutting down The Lariat and encouraging publicity from Newsweek to The Washington Post, they were sending a loud and clear message to Baptist fundamentalists who were threatening to take over the Board of Regents. The message was, “See, we have a handle on this place. We can get medieval on these sorry heathen student journalist asses. So, no need to worry about this place becoming Sodom and Gomorrah on the Brazos.”
For me, the whole thing was a clear sign from God that I become a cartoonist. And I always listen to God. Especially when he speaks to me through Lisa Welch, Miss September 1980. Her turn-ons include: sexy men, fireplaces, sunny days at the beach and cartoonist.*
*Lisa didn’t actually write that. But I could see it her eyes — eyes that looked directly and only at me.
Thanksgiving is sort of forced holiday. It celebrates a tiny group of ancient white people who fled their homeland seeking the religious freedom to wear strange hats and practice intolerance and bigotry. Sort of like someone 300 years from now celebrating the arrival L. Ron Hubbard to Southern California.
These uninvited guests only survived due to the good graces of this continent’s previous inhabitants. After which, the heavily buckled squatters repaid their saviors with gift-wrapped doses of small pox thus insuring their destiny always be manifest.
But I’m no Thanksgiving Scrooge. I like turkey, football and even congealed globs of cranberry sauce with the can-rings still visible. I just don’t let Thanksgiving facts get in the way of the Thanksgiving truth.
The truth is that Thanksgiving is about family. Not some Norman Rockwell magazine cover Thanksgiving family, but a real family with whining and moaning and barely repressed rage over the way Aunt Dora “stole” all your mother-in-law’s jewelry when she went into the nursing home. Oh, and guilt. Can’t forget the congealed gobs of guilt (with the can-rings still visible).
Thanksgiving without family is like Christmas without batteries. You can pretend the wireless remote meat thermometer works, but it’s not the same thing.
So, be thankful for everything you have because one day you won’t have it anymore and you’ll miss it.
Even Aunt Dora.