A behatted friend

The discovery of this image obliterated any commentary that I might have had in mind:



It's nice to see that somebody else finds Ziggy worthy of incomprehensible derivation.

Now get some more awkward swans together and make a bevy

Wait a minute - that swan has land palsy! Medic! I find this strip oddly compelling.

This post does not contain the word "Verminator"

This is actually a pretty absurd and adorable strip if you can get over the dated humor and odd syntax in Ziggy's pseudosentence. That little wind-up squeaker working its roundabout way to the resident housecat, where it does. . . what? I prefer to think it's just a wind-up mouse, making the whole situation just that much cuter. I don't always see impending Armageddon in this feature.

So what happens when animals learn to make convincing facsimiles of themselves with hidden powers? I leave you with that sobering thought.

He also controls the stove of hellfire

Really? I'd love to read that Bible. Judging by the looks on both the cat's and parrot's faces (the dog being incapable of holding malice), Ziggy is the kind of God that you carve up and throw into a volcano.

Still, this gets into the question of worship through utility. Culture throughout history have worshiped some non-omniscient, non-omnipotent beings merely because they believed them to have control over some singular aspect of their existence. For hunter-gatherers it was fertility and protection from death and disease, while primitive agriculturists followed beings with control over the rain and invading pests. Modern Christians train their children to pray for random favors such as bicycles and generic "blessings" for others. After all, if you can't do it for yourself, then isn't there something remarkable about the one with that particular talent or ability? All of this is just a roundabout way to say that, within a limit subsection of Animalia, a God of can openers may not be that farfetched a concept.

EDIT: Somehow I printed this one on the wrong day. I doubt it will destroy the Ziggy chronology.

Babytalk and Snuggles

(click to enlarge)

As cynical as I am, my mind still shuts down when I see a strip like this. The tantalizing monkey's paw-tinged specificity of Ziggy's horoscope, wonder of the multiple panels and inconsistency of the art all fall through for one singular thought: "Kitty!"

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.

Shelves With Things on Them

Ziggy is often unfairly criticized. Well, perhaps not unfairly, but disproportionately so. At its best its a surrealist, absurd-yet-optimistic little strip with pleasant little non sequiturs and occasional bouts of madness. You'll enjoy it in much the same way you enjoy Rose is Rose, though the world of Ziggy is usually scads bleaker.

This is the sort of strip which makes you smile a little inside and think: "I went to a bookstore yesterday. It wasn't very silly." Or not. (Hey, I can't pump out nihilism every day.)

Most Dangerous Game

The balance of nature is shifting. This one is great enough that it doesn't require any special commentary, but there's probably a good allegory in here somewhere. The unique, low perspective of this comic implies that Ziggy might be next. I've grown fond of the guy, but heavens me, I'd like to see Ziggy tasered.

Now they need to get one of these.

Which Circle of Hell Do Bad Cooks Go To?

A barbecue gone wrong - a smoldering, open-air infernal cavern of cinderns and soot. And, lo, a voice from the mire: a voice of mock'ry, a voice of discouragement and sharp scorn. For embedded in the mess of smoke appears a demonic force, one whose sole purpose at the moment appears to be either to provide a negative incentive toward future grilling on Ziggy's part, or to persuade him to eat that which may be unhealthy to his little frame. Even the awful parrot looks down upon this unwelcome intrusion from the world of hellfire into an innocent, albeit misguided, attempt at a simple backyard barbecue.

Ziggy: Officially in Hell

Gad, that's cruel.

Persons Unknown To You

I love these little mixups - remember the little coup with the Sailor Moon underpants? In this case Ziggy's obviously holding a bag that should never have made it through airport security in the first place. Barring the possibility that Delta Airlines has pegged Ziggy as some kind of flamboyant, homosexual dominatrix pirate (a most provocative image if ever there was one), you'd think that the Jolly Roger could still strike a bit of fear into the travel industry, despite its long fall from prominent use. I hope Ziggy manges to reclaim his proper bag - the one with the sequined daisies - soon.

On an unrelated note, even if the ol' skull and crossbones no longer represents modern piracy, we all know what it's come to mean and that it means nothing good:


I fancy meself a funnyman, apparently.

The Man in Black

Ziggy's toast is singing.

Ziggy (the strip, never the individual) often deals with topic of oppression, incompetence, and self-loathing, but I think I like it the most when it's just plain weird. And when your morning foodstuffs start crooning Johnny Cash your life is plenty weird. Ziggy seems a little put off by this development, but not necessarily afraid or confused. He's probably worried that his toast will continue its soulful tune through the twin trials of butter and jam, all the way to his linear mouth.

Fiscal Policy

This from the guy who uses abstract, confusing one-liners to justify budgetary procrastination and tries to pay his taxes with a song. This is hardly the worst decision that he has made. Even the bulbous man behind the leaning desk seems impressed.

Only the Artists Are Mad Here. . .

Lovely. Is Ziggy out of the hospital and back in his arbitrary, passive-aggressive world, or merely in a medication-fueled daze? Either way, this is one of the most entertaining strips we've seen since the giant squid attack.

So, who's the culprit? Painter smurf? The ghost of Bob Ross? Even, heaven forbid, this guy? And just what does he do to you when he catches you? Paint you to death? "You'll be looking like Slim Goodbody when I'm finished with you!!" Chilling.

Bottles Not Books

Holycrapholycrapholycrap - the door must have been opened for the Apocalypse, because today's Ziggy is everything that I could have ever wanted, and it's a multi-panel endeavor to boot! It makes me forget yesterday's self-plagiarism. Presented, unmodified as always, as originally printed. This wonder requires a panel-by-panel, stream-of-consciousness analysis:

Panel 1 (after the unmodified-as-always throwaway panel in all its hospital-green splendor): Look! Ziggy's buying a sizable stack of books! That book on stress avoidance should come in handy. "Plink! Plink!" the excitable keyboard says as if in agreement.

Panel 2: "Coping With Persecution"! No way! "Plink! Plink!" Don't forget stress!

Panel 3: Anxiety and embarrassment. Pshaw! "Plink!"

Panel 4: Oops! You forgot your bag, Ziggy! Beep. . . beep. . . beep. . . - like some kind of fiendish water torture, it rains upon you.

Panel 5: Ziggy wipes sweat, tears and shirt lint all over the exit doors as he frantically shakes his fanny in a horrific parody of surrender. The Man converges upon him, prepared and eager to do their civic duty by riddling him with lead and anger.

Whoever said that Ziggy wasn't the darkest comic in the papers?

The Weirdness

A fantastic, surreal strip like this is almost enough to convince me that Tom Wilson and "Tom II" must be in cahoots with Gahan Wilson. Throw in a couple of comically-grotesque figures and this could nearly pass for one of the more sentimental Wilson panels. Though I can't imply that the two Wilson clans bear any close relation, the prospect of a fish being forced to fight a giant squid seems to have come straight from one of Gahan's sketches.

Fight valiantly, little fish.

EDIT: The ferocity of the unfolding scene almost kept me from noticing Ziggy's pimpin' coat. Almost, but not quite.

Friend in Need

Best strip since "DENTAL FLOSS MALFUNCTION!"

Clutch that beanie, Ziggy. Clutch it in desperation. Now how are you gonna pay off that bookie?"

Animal House - Double Play

My schedule has beaten the heck out of me as of late, so today you're seeing double. Both of these are pretty funny if you stop to look at them:


Remind you of something?


Both pictures depict that moment of pure bestial malice and confident rage wherein the soul abandons the body, the pupils of the eyes vanish, and the sight of soft, supple prey supplants all rational thought. Where man has seen these eyes there can be only pain, death, and finally a large, off-color spot on the floor peppered with scraps of fabric and the signs of struggle.

What a change in demeanor from the parrot's last appearance. Reckon he's caught the yellow fever.



What an odd request for this jumpsuited pest control teen-turned bounty hunter - a rescue mission for personal belongings. The objectives of this mission are a great deal more subtle than the usual "Let none survive!" instructions given to fumigators.

Good luck with that, Ziggy. Jumpsuit Gas Man's constant on-the-job exposure to the potent fumes of his trade has shot his comprehension to hell. You'd have better luck giving instructions to the duffel bag at your feet.

And what of the mice? For a species whose goal is to lay low and forage quietly out of sight, these mice sure go to a lot of trouble to draw attention to themselves. Why, they'll be making off with the insulin next! I'm sure Ziggy would kill for some of Garfield's mice - they mostly just want to make friends. On the rare occasion that they, for example, make off with the entire refrigerator, they at least do so in a comical manner. Ziggy's mice mainly stay out of sight, tormenting him from the safety of their lairs. In fact, Ziggy's got such an inferiority complex that he's the one who feels excluded:

Divirtimento in Gee

Let it not be said that this strip is anything but wonderful. I'd love to imagine this strip in motion, if only to watch those notes shoot across the room, propelled from Kiltbeard's turkey-like bagpipe. The look in our patient's eyes shows that he appreciates the special attention; not every dentist's office has its own resident Scotsman. Even as Ziggy struggles to keep the saliva from dribbling down the right corner of his benumbed and paralyzed mouth, his arms gripping the armrests in silent desperation, he must appreciate the special effort undertaken by Dr. Drill 'n Gouge to incorporate all of Ziggy's phobias into each and every appointment. We're only a couple of manically-grinning clowns away from a complete Fear Encyclopedia.

Drill 'n Gouge must be in cahoots with Ziggy's shrink. I'm aware that the bagpipes are basically Britain's saxophone, with all the soul implied by such a comparison, but was this the only alternative to generic elevator-style muzak? "So, he doesn't like snakes!? Well, how about a sea of spiders!?!"

Grin (so to speak) and bear it, Ziggy: it could be much worse.

Proctor & Gamble's Got Me Wherever I Turn!

Yes! Best "Ziggy" of all time!

I confess that the sight of Ziggy's unfortunate entombment in oral hygiene products fills me with undiluted joy. But it's not just the image - there's something indescribably, maddeningly wonderful about the enormous When Animals Attack-style letters hovering over Ziggy's head: "DENTAL FLOSS MALFUNCTION"! Needless to say, this phrase ("DENTAL FLOSS MALFUNCTION") will be working itself into my daily vocabulary.

It's the little touches that make this one. The single strand of dental floss threading itself under his foot, through his mouth and around his back, then making the trans-Ziggy journey a good dozen more times before final running out of juice just after looping over his nose. The way his arms hang limply and ineffectively at his side, trapped by his self-woven web of floss. The way Ziggy can't quite manage his usual look of resigned, confused desperation because of the way the floss twists his mouth around.

But it's the caption that really sells the image. Imagine this comic without the caption. We see a sad, dysfunctional man whose morning routine involves regular brushes with death, standing alone in the washroom corner. But add "DENTAL FLOSS MALFUNCTION" to the mess and it's a reminder that, hey, life is funny. Funny for everybody except the guy whose morning near-maiming with simple consumer goods is even now being published worldwide.

But Ziggy's a nice guy, and we wouldn't want to see him suffer too much. You have to admit, he's taking it like a trooper. I'm tempted to think that the "caption" isn't a caption at all, but black paint that Ziggy has prepared for just this possibility. He's juuuust blocking the "STAND HERE" with his head. What other contingency areas has Ziggy prepared throughout the house?