December 5th, 2013
by Wayno & Piraro
Bizarro is brought to you today by Where’s the Baby?
I’ve been remiss lately in keeping my blog completely current so I’m going to do some catching up today.
This gag about a hair salon reminds me of the hair salon my mother went to in the 70s, when I was a teenager. She loved her hairdresser, Phillip, and thought he was just the funniest, coolest guy; so easy to talk to. She couldn’t believe that a good-looking man with such a great personality had never been married, even though he was in his early forties.
I know you see the punchline coming, but this was the early 70s and homosexuality was not yet discussed publicly. There weren’t any TV shows with gay characters, very few mainstream movies made any reference to it (and the few that did were considered “adult”) so my mother understandably had no “gay-dar” whatsoever. As far as she knew, she’d never even met a homosexual, which she had been raised to believe was an unholy, deviant lifestyle chosen by perverts. Anyway, she convinced me to let Phillip cut my hair so I went. She was right; he was good looking, witty, charming, cool, mid-forties, had a male roommate, and went by “Phillip” instead of “Phil.” My own rudimentary, inexperienced gaydar was off the charts.
When I got home I mentioned to my mom that Phillip wasn’t married because he was gay. She totally cooked her wig over this horrible accusation and so I dropped it. But here’s the real moral to the story: I was wrong. He was actually Moses, which is why my mother’s bright, red hair was always parted boldly down the middle. And that’s a totally true story. Except for the Moses part and the color of my mom’s hair.
Which brings us to this cartoon about a typical big game hunter who is full of the trademark arrogance of our species. Most of you Jazz Pickles know how I feel about the premise that everything in the universe exists for us, the spoiled brats of a magic, invisible super hero in the sky, to use and abuse at our slightest whim. The point of this cartoon, for me, is that if you’re killing things and cutting their heads off for your wall, what difference does it really make where you find them?
None of the animals in this gag were injured (or even inconvenienced) in the making of this cartoon, which was the idea of my friend and colleague, Dan McConnell.
This caveman cartoon is about my unnatural love (sarcasm) for contest shows where average Americans jump around, squeal, and gyrate onstage in hopes of impressing a panel of celebrity judges. If there were a planet where TV had none of this kind of thing, I would go there, even if I had to walk.
Here now are a couple of cartoons I’ve neglected to post on the blog recently, mostly because I’ve been in a foreign prison and only just escaped. (By “foreign prison” I mean that I’ve been too busy or lazy to keep up my usual, unrelenting work pace lately.)
The first one features a pit bull, which I believe to be a completely safe breed unless taught to be vicious by humans, a completely unsafe breed.
And then there are these clowns.
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