Ramblings Post #294
The thing I miss about being a kid is not paying bills. Currently, bills are the focus of my existence, and even at what I hope, expect, and am working towards for my future, bills will be at best a minor but constant reminder of my ordinary qualities. You know, eating, sleeping, the occasional milkshake. But that aside, I like most people miss things that I think ended too soon. Like Napster. Or shows like Profit. Or that milkshake.
I have a copy of Billy and the Boingers - Bootleg.
Or had. I'm not sure where it is now, but I'm fairly certain I did not throw it out. I threw out books once and it felt awful. So I've still got it around here somewhere. But I know that I can put my hands on copies of Classics of Western Literature and Bloom County Babylon in like two minutes.
That's right kiddies, Bloom County is back. The highly political and completely silly daily strip that was last seen being sold to a Donald Trump inhabiting the body of a dead former rockstar/televangelist cat has returned. I'm not counting Outland, which I kinda liked but didn't feel grounded, or Opus which seemed more like a TV spin-off of a former great that had lost a little something. I needed the real thing, and now its back. Well, it's back on Facebook, but it's back.
For the uninitiated, this is South Park before there was a South Park, and it's comeback is on par with a return of Calvin and Hobbes. Well, maybe not quite on par. Real, real close though. Bloom County is subversive reading. It's entertaining, sometimes scarily satirical, but really funny. From it's odd ball take on politics, religion, plastic surgery, feminism and anything else that popped into it's creator's head, reading it made you feel like you had the inside track or just a plain better understanding of the world around you.
My fear for this situation is that this will tarnish the memory, that the author won't be able to adapt the characters to the NOW, or worse, that I won't get it anymore. That I've outgrown what was. Because nothing hurts quite like realizing you can't go back, not even in your mind. Because you can't go back. I know, I did the math. Right now, it's only on Facebook, and if we only get a hundred or so strips I'll be happy.
Barkeep. A round of tequila. It's what Bill would have done. Ack!
The thing I miss about being a kid is not paying bills. Currently, bills are the focus of my existence, and even at what I hope, expect, and am working towards for my future, bills will be at best a minor but constant reminder of my ordinary qualities. You know, eating, sleeping, the occasional milkshake. But that aside, I like most people miss things that I think ended too soon. Like Napster. Or shows like Profit. Or that milkshake.
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| Image from Salon.com |
Or had. I'm not sure where it is now, but I'm fairly certain I did not throw it out. I threw out books once and it felt awful. So I've still got it around here somewhere. But I know that I can put my hands on copies of Classics of Western Literature and Bloom County Babylon in like two minutes.
That's right kiddies, Bloom County is back. The highly political and completely silly daily strip that was last seen being sold to a Donald Trump inhabiting the body of a dead former rockstar/televangelist cat has returned. I'm not counting Outland, which I kinda liked but didn't feel grounded, or Opus which seemed more like a TV spin-off of a former great that had lost a little something. I needed the real thing, and now its back. Well, it's back on Facebook, but it's back.
For the uninitiated, this is South Park before there was a South Park, and it's comeback is on par with a return of Calvin and Hobbes. Well, maybe not quite on par. Real, real close though. Bloom County is subversive reading. It's entertaining, sometimes scarily satirical, but really funny. From it's odd ball take on politics, religion, plastic surgery, feminism and anything else that popped into it's creator's head, reading it made you feel like you had the inside track or just a plain better understanding of the world around you.
My fear for this situation is that this will tarnish the memory, that the author won't be able to adapt the characters to the NOW, or worse, that I won't get it anymore. That I've outgrown what was. Because nothing hurts quite like realizing you can't go back, not even in your mind. Because you can't go back. I know, I did the math. Right now, it's only on Facebook, and if we only get a hundred or so strips I'll be happy.
Barkeep. A round of tequila. It's what Bill would have done. Ack!
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