Ominous. . .

When you put your four bits into the machine, robotic hands pull you into the device through the tiny opening near the base, sparing no thought for the shape of your physical frame or the sounds of crunching bones and splitting flesh. You thus receive a free sample of hell, much like that which I have freely given with this description.

Ziggy's Wild Years

Reading back on some of Ziggy's earlier medical strips, it occurs to me that this story might be told in reverse order, Memento-style. A couple months ago Ziggy was lying nearly dead in bed as medical practitioners hesitated to approach him, then we were subjected to some dark updates on Ziggy's condition. Today we follow the chain a step back to the previous doctor called upon to diagnose Ziggy's condition. How long until we trade chain of causality back to the cheap Taiwanese hooker?

Nirvana? Nevermind.

It's some kind of ritual leaping seppuku for prospective intelligentsia. I wonder how the local gubmint spun this sign's establishment.

For the Mob it Was a Horse's Head

You've been dead all day?

Those mice are gonna kill that cat one of these days, and the placement of his trussed up, unconscious body suggests that this act is a warning to the miserable beast's master. Were this situation to be mirrored in real life, I'd expect Ziggy to arrive home one fine afternoon to find his furry friend drowned in the toilet. Then again, this is the madcap world of Ziggy, where people suffer but never die.

Neither Living Nor Dead

Ziggy's posed some pretty tough verbal riddles in the past, which naturally leads us to expect some sort of eventual comeuppence. Here he's caught in some mellow limbo, deciphering this silent oracle growing out of what appears to be the sole remaining functioning hair follicle on his own head.

But no matter how you parse it, it doesn't make any sense.

"Left it all away, right?"
"Left: It all. Right: Away."
"Left it all right away."
"Forward it all. Back away."

Those honestly aren't even attempts at humor. What does this mean? If I didn't know for a fact that Wilson was about to do a golfing strip the next day, I'd swear he's lost his mind, in a nice, Salvador Dali sort of way.

Morose Encounters

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.

Adventures in the Blue World of Quotes

. . . However, the other things that come with age - fickle bowels, cataracts, senility and a stubborn commitment to one's viewpoint, however misguided - are mandatory.

Another Gentle Reminder

Gad, I love it when Ziggy incorporates context into its daily despair-crawl. Most of what I said there applies here. Our friend has a look upon his face that says: ah, yes, the collapse of the solar system. I'd forgotten about that.

Apologies and Mindfreaks

Well, it seems that I'm once again behind schedule.

I do, however, have a bit of a consolation prize until I get that rear in gear and catch up with the current Ziggy. Do you remember when you found out that Eric Clapton had been the guitarist for a metal band, or that Bob Saget was a filthy, filthy comedian before starring in Full House? Finding out that somebody behind something mainstream has a subversive undercurrent can be exciting. This one is absolutely priceless.

Sally Forth writer Francesco Marciuliano has been doing a webcomic for quite some time, one that I've been aware of but whose origin I've never known. (Yes, I'm talking about this Sally Forth.) It's called Medium Large and it's a webcomic in every sense of the word, with smurf murder and profanity and everything. Check out his neat June 20 riff on Ziggy:



Like most great parody, it's barely an exaggeration:


(An actual Ziggy.)

Read Medium Large. More tomorrow.

Ziggy: Officially in Hell

Gad, that's cruel.

Pet Ciao

Ziggy's snuffed out his dog's little candle with off-brand Kibbles.

AARIP

Remember when Big Bird learned what happened to old Mr. Hooper? I think that it's about time for this scowling menagerie to learn what it means for a pet to "retire". The dog doesn't seem particularly upbeat - perhaps he already knows.

Ziggy has a duck?