Sunday, August 24, 2008
Well, the breadth and depth of my behind-ness has finally earned the descriptive predicate "woeful". That's right - I'm now woefully behind. I apologize - I've had some medical gookiness to work through lately (still working through it actually), and up until now it's killed my funny.
These two flamer cops have apparently ignored Ziggy's monk-like appearance. That type of bagginess and that color scheme may be well and fine for a monk, but if Ziggy can't attract the righteous indignation of the self-proclaimed fashion police with his getup, I have to wonder what sort of fashion disaster prompts them to actually make an arrest. They should have an entire dossier on Ziggy by now.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Ziggy's nose appears to be avoiding this exhortation toward assertiveness, gradually migrating its way toward the back of his head. I mocked it up in PhotoShop and eventually decided to protect you all from the image.
Though it's a great deal more interesting if we posit a sort of a riddle: if this were a "pull" door, then it would be truly fiendish for the door to suggest that sheer stubborn willpower would be enough to bend its firm hinges in the correct direction and allow entry. In this way the door is a sort of "guard" as well as an obstacle - a sentry to certify that only the truly intelligent will be granted the volatile gift of assertiveness. The world will not soon fall before the inscrutable powers of a newly-confident Ziggy.
What a sad, sad little display. I'm wont to suspect all of this as some form of madness brought on by advanced food poisoning - certainly the smackridden eyes belie some sign of feverish delusion - though it's certainly feasible that there's a grain of truth to Ziggy's twitchy proposition. The look in this dignified maitre d's eyes suggests that he's not necessarily a stranger to this sort of scrounging.
Noting the towel draped around this glum drunkard's arm - the Health Code Office won't look kindly on this establishment's doubling up of maire d' and bathroom attendant duties.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Gad, those windows opening out of nothingness . . . the people who come out of them are unfailingly either depressing or angry (though incompetence appears to be another theme at work here). Nevertheless, when confronted by an inexplicable small window opening out of a big yellow void, a fairly safe response is to hand its occupant an unplugged toaster. By the time he can find a socket and start warming the thing up for some good old-fashioned hand burning, you can run far, far away to an entirely different section of the yellow void.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't a "ring tone" the same as a song? Isn't a ring tone just a shortened fragment of a song - the more inane, the better? Maybe this was one of the "old Tom" strips. I really don't understand this at all.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
This may be a resurgence of the same silly, wacky disease that Ziggy got last month. So what silly, unpronouncable disease does Ziggy have? One of the great joys with this strip is the little games and riddles it throws at you, before giving you the obvious-in-retrospect answers. For example the question of the guru's rapidly-changing behavior saw an answer some time ago, after myriad clues.
The cruel humor gets you reading, then the imaginary games keep you going.
As Ziggy undergoes his yearly version of the Hajj to places of deep-seated paranoia and distrust, he runs into an escapee of sorts. The appearance of this otherworldly traveler seems inappropriate considering the timeline of the events in question; could this critter have been crawling for 61 years?
Actually, this little space evader (haw!) has just as much right to call the Earth home as we do; as the child or grandchild of a real tootin' extraterrestrial, he was probably raised here, and is accustomed to all of the trappings of Earth life that survived through that Godforsaken laboratory. At any rate, though it's tough to tell which will be eating the other alive, the fact that this strip is called Ziggy and not Exhausted Nude Green Spaceman affords us a guess.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
This "ATM" boasts a difficult interface, to be sure: no less than twenty plain, gridded white buttons and what appears to be an oversized coin slot. The sheer difficulty of the machine, plus the fact that it's plainly not a real ATM, leads me to believe that perhaps Ziggy's facing down an Automatic Taunting Machine.
Suddenly, a searing shriek fills the heavens and the scene before us shifts: