The next time you cut the strings of your corporate overlords, use Wescott Brand scissors!

Ziggy's life is programmed lock in step, lock shock and sterile by the news media until his bold, embittered Brave New World sees only consumption and his e'er-arched ad-watching neck has developed a permanent crick which he now intends to solve with an over-the-counter medication. So the medicine cabinet has TV static. One good thing about our new corporate subsistence existence: it always comes back full circle.

TV Binge (and Purge)

Since 2003, when it got really crapalicious, "Sesame Street" has been required by federal law to include this warning.

Don't you see? The Beast is inside all of us, inside our wallets!

Too controversial and too awesome for actual children

The usual tendency is to make some sort of "Why, I never expected to see this warning before [some sanitized show like Lawrence Welk]." Then it occurred to me that some of my friends actually enjoy Lawrence Welk in an ironic way, and that edgy shows often use these types of warnings as a way of complying with network standards while intriguing people into subversive programming. So this isn't really parody.

Passivity - the Ziggy Way!

Scintillating and intelligent or compatible, Ziggy? Hey, at least it gets you watching PBS, albeit passively.

Stay Tuned For Some Ads From Law Firms and Community Colleges

Heh. He's so passive and vegetative; you can see the fear in his face but he just keeps taking it. He's closer to chair algae than a couch potato. And don't you think he's watching FOX?

Songs To Let Our Of Your Head

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.

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.

No Place For Questions of the Soul

Man, the Nighty News has gone philosophical on us all of a sudden. This is either some sort of misguided religious tract or merely a confusing self-evaluation question; heck, it may even be a veiled threat. Regardless, this little query seems destined to confuse the dickens out of everybody, especially our favorite pale little cave goblin, sitting alone in the dark in his terrifically-luminescent armchair.

I'll assume that the question stems from intents philosophical for the following response: we're all on our way out, buddy. Thanks for bloody well reminding me.

Idiot Box, Next on FOX

Look at that face - empty, expressionless eyes, fixated squarely on the only moving object in the room: that series of swirling pixels and cathode rays that serves as the home's centerpiece. Veg the body, veg the mind. Fat, dumb and happy? Well, I suppose two out of three isn't bad.

The worst part about turning yourself into a vacant, television-respirating houseplant is having to get up to refill your drink. Here I speak from experience. Might want to check out one of those armchair toilets, but have it wired to the house's plumbing with a bidet so you don't have to clean it or your swollen, chafed and immobile butt.

Vicarious

This is barely even satire. The worst news stations, particularly local news, try to shield you from bad news, but the national news stations have no such options. That's why most national news stories are about events happening far, far away, or to imaginary people in the future ("is [substance] in your water? Find out at nine!"). If the parents of the major news networks, most of whom manufacture weapons, wanted you to hear the news that applied to you and that would affect your future, they would report it. It's good this is my last post for the day because now my ire is up.

A Three-Legged Dog Walks Into a Bar

Ten Reasons Why We Do Not Have
Dog-Focused Reality Television:

10. The canine kingdom, as a whole, do not represent a particularly-influential consumer group.

9. Dogs are generally incapable of changing channels, or, indeed, of comprehending anything at all.

8. Dogs are generally subject to the whims of their masters, most of whom do not share the same interests.

7. An early ratings dropoff is inevitable as various moving and fragrant objects distract the target viewing audience.

6. Dogs' genitals wag all over the place when they walk. It would never get past the censors. I'm just sayin'.

5. Actually, 6 more than deserves two spots.

4. The closed-captioning work would be repetitive.

3. Dogs have higher priorities than TV-watching, such as sniffing their own excrement.

2. Even dogs aren't stupid enough to watch reality television.

1. Nobody wants to see an hour of this:

(Is it just me, or is Ziggy's dog taking a huge poop on the floor in disapproval?)

The Idiot Box Has Opened My Eyes

A confession: One recurring problem with this blog is the need to continuously reference the title character. Occasionally I'm able to stem the flow of Ziggy ennui by reaching into my descriptive grab bag, but referring to Ziggy as "our luckless chum" or "our pessimistic protagonist" does little to address the underlying issue of Ziggy's pervasiveness in this feature. I can only hope that you find, as I do, a certain camp value to the adventures of the hapless pink blob that serves as the subject of this blog. That name which shows up in the URL, posts and artwork of this blog, and the character who answers to it, are the heart and soul of this blog. It seems fitting that Ziggy, the world's most recognizable pink blob, be granted the dubious honor of this, the ultimate Blob's Blog.

On to the feature. Ziggy's television set, always honest-bordering-on-the-surreal, attempts a final disclaimer urging insomniacs citywide to bed. Ziggy's not hearing a single word of it, except possibly for the first: "ANOTHER." Another program?, He thinks with all of the vim and gusto of a late-nite television viewer: Don't mind if I do.

If this feature really wants to simulate the mind-numbing drudgery of television overdose (hey, it's a slippery slope!), I can think of nothing better than to run the following strip for a week. Trust me, it's the only way to make a statement. It's an actual, undoctored photo of the moment your soul solidifies into concrete: