The first draft of this cartoon was actually written a month ago, inspired by this ACLU report and this New York Times article. I was saving it as a backup for some upcoming travel, but timing is everything, and as the events in Ferguson began to unfold, this went from evergreen to needing to be posted as soon as possible.
The anniversary of Nixon’s resignation seems like a good moment to repost this old campaign song I uploaded a few years ago. I bought this at a tag sale in the Haight Ashbury in the mid-eighties — the attic of the building (which I believe was literally at the corner of Haight and Ashbury) was clearly an old hippie crash pad that had never been cleaned out. It was a weird remnant, an unintentional time capsule from the late sixties. Old mattresses all around, a couple of old televisions, and this gem.
VALDOSTA — On the first day of the new Georgia Safe Carry Protection Act, a misunderstanding between two armed men in a convenience store Tuesday led to a drawn firearm and a man’s arrest…
A man carrying a holstered firearm entered the store to make a purchase. Another customer, also with a holstered firearm, approached him and demanded to see his identification and firearms license, according to the Valdosta Police Department report.
Ran across this post, while searching for something entirely unrelated. I used to put a lot more time into blogging, until I eventually decided that time was better spent making short snarky remarks on Twitter. And (more seriously) on cartooning.
I wonder if Brian D. held true to his total and perpetual boycott of me, for whatever it was that he was so mad about.
A couple of pictures of the old Iowa Theatre, scanned from old slides. I worked there for several years as a teenager. Long gone now — it was turned into a Burger King, and now I believe it’s some kind of club.
I’ve been going through some old boxes of clips recently, and found this article from the May 17, 1984 edition of the Iowa City Press Citizen. In the early eighties, Berke Breathed and I overlapped in Iowa City for a year or two. It was my hometown — I was in my early twenties, in a transitional moment, trying to figure out what I was doing with my life. He was at the peak of his initial success, and had landed in Iowa because his partner was going to school there. I was working in a copy center, and he used to come in with a stack of Bloom County originals, which was always a big thrill for the budding young cartoonist behind the counter. I still have a signed promotional bookstore poster with a small drawing of Opus that he gave me, as well as a couple signed books. Within a few months of this article’s publication, I was out of Iowa City and on my way to San Francisco.