RIP, Donald Ault

Posted on August 12, 2019 by admin

The other day I learned that Donald Ault died in April at 76. Sad to hear it. Among my college professors, he was one of the more interesting.

Besides being a William Blake scholar of renowned, Ault also had an early academic interest in comics, especially the work of the talented Carl Barks. Most of the rest of the VU English Department didn’t think much of that — comics (and balloons) is for kiddie-winkies, after all — and a few years after I took his class, Donald Ault was off to the University of Florida. That was a better fit for him than Vanderbilt, where he had come to from Berkeley.

Ault said so himself in a short memoir republished by the International Journal of Comic Art blog. An appreciation for Ault by another former VU student is here, better than anything I can write about him.

Ault taught the last English class I took at Vanderbilt, in the spring of 1983, whose formal title I don’t remember. But I do remember an assignment for that class that had me write an interpretation of a Carl Barks’ Donald Duck story. Out of a number of ideologies to choose from in doing the paper, I picked a Marxist interpretation. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I do remember having fun with it.

We also watched some videos — items in those pre-Internet days that were hard to find. One in particular was J-Men Forever, an insane romp of a thing put together by a couple of members of Firesign Theatre. As it happened, I’d heard of Firesign because a couple of their records were floating around my freshman dorm hall, but I’d never heard of J-Men Forever.

RIP, Dr. Ault.

Woodstock Walkabout

Posted on July 22, 2019 by admin

At noon on Saturday, the sun was high and mighty and toasting northern Illinois well into the 90s F. Later in the afternoon, an unexpected storm blew through. Unexpected because I hadn’t looked at any weather reports. By late afternoon, the storm was over and temps were in the pleasant 70s.

A good time to take a short walk in Woodstock, Illinois, which might be one of the state’s most pleasant towns. A good place to start was Woodstock Square. At the very center of the square is a GAR memorial to Union soldiers and sailors from Woodstock, which was founded in 1852.
What’s a town square without a gazebo?
Strolling south from Woodstock Square, I passed by the Blue Lotus Buddhist Temple. I noticed it on a previous visit to Woodstock.

I don’t believe these statues were there the last time. It’s been seven or so years, after all. Plenty of time to add a few depictions of Buddha.
The temple isn’t the only religious site in the vicinity. Cater-cornered across the street is Woodstock’s First Church of Christ, Scientist. Not far away are the First United Methodist Church and the Unity Spiritual Center of Woodstock.

I’d come to Woodstock to see Greg Brown at the handsome Woodstock Opera House. He’s a vastly underappreciated singer-songwriter-story teller from Iowa.

It was dark after the show, but I didn’t want to hurry away from Woodstock. Besides, I’d read that there was a new(ish) mural just north of Woodstock Square. So it is, in an alley — which the town calls a “pedway” — off Main Street next to Classic Cinemas Woodstock Theatre.

The mural honors the likes of Groundhog Day, filmed locally and remembered elsewhere in town.

Orson Welles, who spent part of his youth in Woodstock.

The town also remembers Chester Gould, though the Dick Tracy Museum in Woodstock closed a number of years ago.
The alley features two statues as well. One is a wood carving of Woodstock Willie, presumably the town’s answer to Punxsutawney Phil, created by carver Michael Bihlmaier.
Oddly enough, also near the mural is a small bronze of Welles by a local artist, Bobby Joe Scribner.
According to the information sign near the work, it’s the only statue of Welles on public display in the United States. Interesting that it depicts an older Welles. His Paul Masson period, you might say.

Valentain Day Special

Posted on February 14, 2019 by admin

Time for a late winter break. Back to posting around February 24, much closer to the winter-springish domain of March-April, which is always worth looking forward to.

Saw this today on a package of sushi.
I won’t mock the grocery store for its spelling. I wasn’t a particularly good speller in my younger days. I have vague memories of teachers getting on my case about it. Later I got better, but never flawless, down to the present. Even now there are words I can never quite remember.

I have a hunch that my spelling deficiencies helped me become a more competent writer. I’d want to write a certain word, but couldn’t remember how it was spelled. So I’d think of another way to say what I wanted to say. If that isn’t an important writing skill, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.

Does anyone say that anymore? I queried Ann about the phrase. She’d never heard it. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard anyone use it. I think my 8th grade math teacher used to say it occasionally, but that was 45 years ago.

This is in the public domain and I want to use it.

How often do we hear about James M. Cox anymore? Seldom to never. All it takes is 99 years. If anything, he’s noted as the running mate of FDR, even though Cox was top man on the ticket.

Let’s hear it for the public domain. Expanding again as it should.

Here’s a remarkable bit of animation, by a young Iranian named Majid Adin.

I’ll never hear “Rocket Man” quite the same again. But I also associate it with a fellow I knew in high school who attached a small rocket launcher on top of his station wagon and rigged it so he could shoot off small rockets while the car was moving.

The launcher was horizontal, so the rockets went backward from his car. I didn’t just hear about that, either. I saw him do it once on a highway, from another car not far away.

Glad to see that Merle Hazard is still recording. Still amusing, too.

Channeling Tom Lehrer some, I’d say, though Lehrer didn’t do much country and western, unless you count “The Wild West is Where I Want to Be.” I want to hear Hazard’s song about Weimar Republic hyperinflation too.

I’m sorry I missed this Joan Jett video when it was new 30 years ago. But definitely better late than never.

It’s a cover, of course, but who cares. I only learned about a year ago that AC/DC borrowed the title from Beany and Cecil, a cartoon from before my time and which never showed up in reruns that I knew of.

Finally, a comic in which a character makes up something on the spot: about bread mines in this case. I like that.

Hulk Smash Nixon? No.

Posted on June 11, 2017 by admin

As a lad, I didn’t read The Incredible Hulk. I didn’t watch the TV show with Bill Bixby more than a time or two. I had no interest in movies featuring the character. I’m also pretty sure my older brothers didn’t care much about the comic, though it’s possible Jim bought The Incredible Hulk No. 147 (January 1972) on a whim. Or maybe one of my friends brought the comic into the house and left it. Tom T., whom I hung out with a lot at that time, probably read Hulk.

Whatever the reason, I spotted the comic at my mother’s house during our most recent visit. It’s missing its cover, which looks like this (oddly, the text describes the second story in the issue, rather than the first). I might not have paid it any further attention, but then I noticed a couple of characters on the opening page not usually associated with comic books of the time.

No fictional president for this comic. Though not named, Nixon’s clearly making a cameo, along with Agnew, who is called “Spiro” a few times.

So I read the thing, just to see how Nixon and Agnew fared at the hands of the Hulk. The disappointing truth is that the comic had very little use for them. As the action unfolds, they’re at the periphery, though the boss bad guy vaguely mentions kidnapping them, or something. They appear in a few more panels, mostly it seems so the writer, Gerry Conway — apparently when he was very young — could have some fun with Nixon catch phases and Agnew alliterations.

Got in a mention of Kissinger, too.

All this made me look at the long Wiki article on the Hulk, and I read some of it, but not even an appearance by Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew could spark enough interest in the Hulk for me to read all of it. I did learn that at first he was gray-skinned rather than green, which I guess is a factoid worth knowing.

Captain Canuck & President Polk for Christmas

Posted on January 9, 2017 by admin

My last Christmas present came via UPS today. Lilly ordered it not long ago, some time after I assured her that a little while after Christmas is close enough. It’s an attitude that makes the holidays less stressful; more people should consider it.

I’d suggested the item almost off-handedly. In our time, such whims are easily gratified online. It’s alarmingly easy. Here’s a closeup.

It’s a Captain Canuck t-shirt, 100 percent cotton, made in Nicaragua. Accept no less.

Also for Christmas this year, but some time earlier, Jay got me a t-shirt with another larger-than-life figure, though from the annals of U.S. history.

None other than James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump. Also all cotton, but made in Haiti. On the back it says POLK 11.

Wednesday Leftovers

Posted on May 25, 2016 by admin

Fine warm day today, the latest in a string of them. Rain ahead. Back again on May 31, after Memorial Day and Decoration Day, one in the same this year. It’s possible I’ll see a few things between now and then.

Some evenings, lights illuminate the baseball field behind our back yard.

If the lights suddenly looked like that to our eyes, we’d be alarmed. One of these days, maybe I’ll read the instruction manual for the camera on the subject of nighttime picture-taking. Or maybe not.

This one-panel Bliss from May 2009 was hanging on my office wall until recently. Now it’s in a file. I’ve taken a few things down.

I like a comic that assumes you know “The Rime of Ancient Mariner.” Bliss is still in the Tribune, and still amusing. Not long ago a panel showed a woman opening up blinds to reveal the sun, while a tired-looking man in bed under a blanket says, “Must you press the issue?”

I’m reminded of “When Potato Salad Goes Bad.” Has it been over 20 years since Larson discontinued The Far Side? Apparently it has.

Speaking of a writer that assumes his readers have a certain amount of knowledge, what follows is a passage from Ninety-Two Days (1934) by Evelyn Waugh, which I recently finished. The book’s a highly readable account of his journey through the British Guianan bush and across the border into Brazil, where he comes to the town of Boa Vista.

“Already, in the few hours of my sojourn there, the Boa Vista of my imagination had come to grief. Gone; engulfed in an earthquake, uprooted by a tornado and tossed sky-high like chaff in the wind, scorched up with brimstone like Gomorrah, toppled over with trumpets like Jericho, ploughed like Carthage, brought, demolished and transported brick by brick to another continent as though it had taken the fancy of Mr. Hearst; tall Troy was down.”

Bird update: the young robins seem to have left the nest. That was fast. I’m pretty sure I saw one of them flapping its wings yesterday, getting ready to go. Haven’t seen it since.
Both the duck and the drake were on the garage roof yesterday afternoon, when it was quite warm — mid-80s, which must be warm enough for the duck to leave the eggs a while.

Lately Mars has been in the southern sky, and the nights have been warm enough to spend a few moments looking at the red-orange planet. A small delight. I take them where I can get them.

This Wasn’t in the Job Description

Posted on December 10, 2015 by admin

What did we do deserve such a sunset yesterday? I couldn’t say. Maybe there was an extra ration of air pollution in the western sky. The photo doesn’t depict all the subtleties of the hues, but here it is anyway.
One more book from my shelf: This Wasn’t in the Job Description, a collection of Duffy comic strips by Bruce Hammond, published in 1983. I acquired it in Nashville ca. 1985, around the same time I was introduced to Life in Hell, a different sort of comic whose creator went on to other things.

Duffy is a pre-Dilbert office comic, beginning syndication in 1981 and petering out in the mid-1990s. “The strip lasted almost a decade and a half, at its most popular was claimed to be running in 90+ newspapers, even got the reprint book treatment once,” writes comic strip historian Allan Holtz (so it seems I have a copy of the only collection). “On the other hand, it is a strip that certainly did seem to fly under the radar for much of its existence…

“With most of the gags about office politics, technology, and upper management, you could think of this as a precursor to Dilbert, but I think that would be off-base. Duffy owed a little more, I think, to the style and gags of Jeff MacNelly’s Shoe. Take off the bird wings, and move the Treetops Tattler gang into a generic office setting, and you get close to the feel of Duffy.”

Mildly satiric, Duffy wasn’t groundbreaking or outrageously funny — I’m hard-pressed to think of many late 20th-century newspaper comics that are either — just consistently amusing, and not all comics are even that. The eponymous main character, the middle-aged and disheveled middle-manager Arthur Duffy, muddles through his days in the office of a company whose exact business is never specified, vexed by the heard but never seen company president G.W. and a dim-witted and sleazy colleague Miles. The other two main characters are women: Jessie, another middle manager, and Naomi, Duffy’s secretary, and Hammond’s a good deal more sympathetic to them than Scott Adams to his female characters.

Jessie: There’s a line on the budget sheet I don’t understand, Duffy.
Duffy: What’s that, Jessie?
Jessie: What does “ancillary administrative expense” mean?
Duffy: Slush fund.
—
Naomi: How can you moan about owing money, Duffy? You must make four times what I do.
Duffy: It’s a basic law of economics, Naomi. Debt is always greater than income.
—
Jessie: This is National Secretaries’ Week, Miles. Planning anything special for your secretary?
Miles: You must be kidding.
Jessie: Come on! Why not?
Miles: I don’t observe holidays invented by florists.

It’s interesting how dated some of it is after only 30 years. Desktop computers are new and threatening — at least to Duffy — there’s a series of strips about learning from Japanese management techniques, and there’s no talk of casual Friday, open-plan offices or cell phones. Jokes about incompetence in the C-suite are pretty much timeless, though.

The Blue Beetle

Posted on March 25, 2015 by admin

After Saturday’s small comic con event (see yesterday), and completely by coincidence, I was listening to WDCB’s old-time show radio, Those Were the Days, and learned about the The Blue Beetle. The name made me laugh.

The theme of this particular Those Were the Days edition was successful radio and programs and their imitators. The Blue Beetle was paired with the The Green Hornet, which it clearly imitated.

Later, I looked up this oddball imitator. Apparently the character, especially as a comic book hero, was more successful than it had any right to be, and he’s still kicking around. One of these days, maybe he’ll get the big-screen CGI treatment. Not that I would pay money to see it, or even watch it for free. But I like the idea. Lesser-known characters (e.g., Captain Canuck) should get their 15 minutes.

Along the same comic-book hero lines, this is a good use of YouTube: The Complete 14 Batman Window Cameos.

Comic Book Characters at the Library

Posted on March 24, 2015 by admin

On Saturday, Ann asked to go to our local library’s Comic Con, an event held in its main lobby and various rooms, so I took her. I’d never thought of it before, but it seems that “comic con” is generic. I’m a little surprised that it isn’t anyone’s trademark, such as the organizers of big event in San Diego, but I guess it’s too late for that.

I took a look at some of the displays. One fellow had a nice collection of 1950s and ’60s comics, professionally graded according to a number system, which speaks to the fetish for mint-condition collectibles. I also took a few pictures. Such as this display.

And of costumed characters wandering around, posing for pictures. I didn’t recognize some of them, but the storm troopers were easy to pick out.

The right line for that fellow would have been, “Aren’t you a little short to be a storm trooper?”

Ann and her friend, with a storm trooper. I don’t know who the ones in red and orange are supposed to be. The girls enjoyed the event, spending about two hours there. After about 10 minutes, I couldn’t muster any further interest in the goings-on, but we were in a library, so I found much else to do, looking at various books and reading.

The Going Away Party

Posted on January 18, 2015 by admin

In January 1987, I moved from Nashville to Chicago to change jobs and my surroundings. It was also the only time anyone’s ever held a going away party for me. (I went to a pre-deportation party in Osaka for a gaigin once, but I wasn’t that gaigin.)

Anyway, on January 16, 1987, Stephanie — she’s the one in the middle, flanked by Dave and me — hosted my going away party. There was actually a theme: sleepwear. Some people came dressed that way, some didn’t.

Paul, with his eyes closed; Steve, whom I don’t remember much about; Jon up in the corner; and way in the back, Raggedy Ann. Some of the attendees were coworkers of mine, others were part of a poetry reading group that I attended from time to time in Nashville. It was an informal group that met in members’ apartments. After all this time, the only verse I remember from those events was ahead of Christmas one year, when one of us (not me) recited some of Walt Kelly’s “Boston Charlie.” First verse below. It’s not as easy as you think.

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an’ Kalamazoo!
Nora’s freezin’ on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!

One the bed, Suzie, and on the floor, Libby. Others in attendance were Wendy, Mike, Barbara, Donna and Tanya, and maybe more I’ve forgotten. Note that someone brought doughnuts, and not just any doughnuts. Krispy Kreme, back when that treat wasn’t available at every gas station from here to Timbuktou.

Also, on the right side of the picture, a blue strip. That was part of the design of the movie guide that Sarratt Cinema at Vanderbilt published once a semester. Remarkably, because of my pack-rat nature, I still have some of them, including Spring 1987, which was hanging on the wall. The movie we weren’t seeing that night was Aliens.

Even more remarkably (but not really), I used to record the movies I saw at Sarratt in the Day Minders I used to use. The last one noted before I left for Chicago: My Beautiful Laundrette, January 8. That’s probably the last movie of many I ever saw there — all of which formed part of my informal collegiate and post-collegiate education.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Tag Archives: comics