I bought a pumpkin at a suburban Chicago market last year and allowed it to sit on my table for several weeks. When I finally got around to carving the thing, I realized that it had rotted and very nearly stained the wood through the tablecloth. Needless to say, the pumpkin went in the garbage and I was out ten bucks. If only I’d have been offered and extended warranty…
Archive for the ‘The Flying McCoys’ Category
Here’s a theological conundrum. If God is everywhere then it also follows that God cannot be in one place exclusively. If we take the kiosk in this strip literally, then we also have to infer that the white-haired man is only a manifestation of the almighty and not the almighty himself. That makes the punchline a lot less effective, but it does nothing to diminish the map of the heavens that somehow resembles a collection of rocks under glass.
Here’s a confession: I’ve never seen Frankenstein or Bride of Frankenstein in their entirety. In fact, my only exposure to the latter is the widely circulated still image of Frankenstein’s bride in close-up, complete with jagged highlights. But even though I’ve missed the movies, I have read the Mary Shelley novel, which is quite lovely and far, far removed from the character’s image in popular culture.
Few people remember that the feel-good TV show, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, was preceded by the almost-too-horrible-to-contemplate TV show, Extreme Makeover. That first program showed ordinary women undergoing plastic surgery to help them feel better about themselves. But today’s installment of The Flying McCoys goes against type by showing a cosmetically altered male fish. At least I think it’s a male fish. The comparatively thick eyebrow would seem to suggest it, and the abundance of scales have an uncanny resemblance to arm hair.
I guess this would be the biblical equivalent of your dad catching you and your date buck naked, although Adam and Eve never had any clothes to begin with. But what I like most about this strip are the visual touches, like the unusually long finger of God, the thick foliage that resembles a fluffy cloud, and the surprisingly nonchalant snake in the branches.
Here’s a strip that’s pretty funny on the surface, and really disturbing if you think about it for more than a few seconds. Is there such a thing as a pathology gene? Are some people simply born bad, and powerless to control themselves? The law says yes, but I’d like to think that most people are hard-wired to care for their fellow human beings, at least within the context of civil society. Fortunately for The Flying McCoys, these sobering questions are mitigated by the ridiculousness of the phrase “killing gland,” not to mention the earnest expression on the inmate’s face.