Ziggy's secret vices

"This has been a reminder of government omniscience. We can and will find you. Have a nice day."

Ziggy seems to know all-too-well just exactly what this sign is talking about, and has no intention to give up his occasional dabblings in it.

What is the "blue corn moon" anyway?

Apparently, this bird never learned to paint with all the colors of the wind. He's getting too hung up about ownership, man, avian or hominid. He needs to keep in mind that Ziggy's house is less an ownable estate and more an all-species commune, where everybody just pretty much hangs out and lives, man, lives! No pot, though.

Procrastinimrod

Ziggy doesn't look "poised" here. He looks doomed and afraid, like he's penning his will. He should have kept his procrastination generic and comfortable, like last time. Thinking about the things you have to get done defeats the whole purpose of procrastination, which is have a brief, wonderful worry-free day. Now he's just going to suffer twice as much. And it seems he's just seen the error of this little loophole he's concocted, attempting to unload all of his work onto his past self.

How will he find the time to "CALL @u3v/wsk" or "segz wromic" now?

The Green Team

I noticed this Superteam has attempted a matching color scheme. I don't think the bird is pissed for want of a higher position than sidekick - after all, he was a cult leader last week - but because superhero teams are actually supposed to do things.

I've been lacking in philosophy for some time, now, and seeing as it's the stated goal of this blog to find philosophy in unlikely places, I'm going to have to answer my inner voices of responsibility and get cracking.

Patent absurdity of the talking pet situation aside, our protagonist's situation seems to mirror the plight of the modern everyman who, having filled his life with devices of convenience, comfort and mobility, suddenly reaches a point where an uncomfortable paradox sets in: an oversaturation of free time and leisure with no real avenue of escape. In other words, our modern man, suddenly able to go everywhere and do everything, is suddenly left with nothing at all to do.

Amidst the blaring electronic equipment in the house, blistering speeds reachable by the internal combustion engine, and instant communication all over the world, we hit the Saturation Event Horizon and are left with nothing to watch, nowhere to go, and noone to talk to. I've read stories that modern man is getting dumber. And that's the only world that's scarier than a return to the Dark Ages of production and technology, and you can already start to see it now: a world full of comfortable, unmotivated people who sit alone in their nice houses getting upstaged by their pets.

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?

Avian Presence

Easy joke: Crummy people chair!? Ziggy's being awfully hard on himself. He'd better get another chair in case some non-crummy people show up.

These self-assured little birds don't seem to regard their benefactor with any particular affection, particularly the spiteful little pecker in the birdbath.

Picky Little Peckers

The last time Ziggy carried bags and bags of meat into the park, he was in the news. He knows better now.

Flux on the Menu

All of this personalized service apparently hasn't bought Ziggy any flexibility. But that's just the way he likes it, innit?

Wash Your Hands First, Please

Cartoon characters with an oedipal abandonment complex are somewhat rare, but by no means nonexistent. Nevertheless, it's a matter of record that Ziggy has found a place where he is forced to take his medicine, and where the course order is determined by the server and not the customer. Exactly the way he likes it, it turns out.

This Macy's balloon of a matriarch is being a little too nice to Ziggy not to doubt her motives. And Ziggy's the only diner there - is he renting the place by the hour? And where does he get the money if he doesn't have a job? Gad, I love a strip that makes me think.

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?

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.

In the Wine of Love. . .

How sad - Ziggy is unable to hear the music of love. Consider the following: he was actually turned away from a dating service. Although it's possible that part of Ziggy's problem is an inability to tell how to visit websites. No, you don't always have to visit the company's HQ in Pittsburgh. No, the receptionist is not your only option. I'm sure that they have kiosks set up for just that purpose.

No, you'll have to brave it online, Ziggy. Let's see how the whole thing plays out. You'll have to click the following image to read it clearly:


Back to the parrot and the television set, my friend. It's for your own good. On a lighter note, look at his right foot in the image at the top.
Q: Doesn't he make suction cup sounds when he walks? A: He does.

Cheeky, With an Invigorating Sense of Audacity

I've gotta get up at 6 for work - stay tuned later today for the commentary on this one. You won't see tomorrow's newspaper columnists trying that.

All right - let's go. We'll begin with a topical poem:


Amusing Wine?
By Madeleine Begun Kane

When experts say wine is amusing,
It’s a compliment. Ain’t that confusing?
Why laugh at a wine
If you think that it’s fine?
Methinks they do far too much boozing.

It's the last line that deserves special mention. It's my understanding that alcohol merely reduces inhibitions, so unless you have some wonderful hilarious anecdote on the tip of your tongue amusement is hardly a necessary consequence of chugging down a bottle of '68.

On the other hand, if your life is a vale of tears and sadness that you'd rather not dwell upon, inhibitions are the only thing keeping yourself from a complete emotional breakdown. I think that we all agree that, in Ziggy's case, it may be better to just have a cookie.

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:

Facsimile

In direct rebuttal to yesterday's comment that Ziggy appears to be lacking hobbies, today Ziggy puts the finishing touches on his own stone Golem, a personal simulacrum which will either aid in global domination or rise from the earth prepared to form larger, grander works of narcissistic art.

Either way, this is the happiest we've seen Ziggy for quite a long time. We're never quite as fulfilled as when we're molding the world into our own image. It's safe to say that there is no trespassing or vandalism involved in this piece of public art. Carving oneself in sixty-foot-high granite is a heckuva way to garner publicity.

Tomorrow: Ziggy's collection of mini-Ziggys carved out of soap, each wearing a tiny beret.


"Sometimes I wake up and think I should start wearing a beret, but I don't do it." - Mitch Hedberg

Ultimate Test of Cerebral Fitness

Years ago, Ziggy found himself in a similar situation. Lost in a dark netherworld (or maybe just sitting with the lights off), he once sought guidance from another machine, whose criticism was comparatively patronizing:


Even computers who aren't blessed with the gift of speech repeatedly trounce humans at everything that they both do, often leading to crushing loss of self-esteem, and, in extreme cases, the entirety of the human race being thrown into little stasis pods and used as batteries for Machinedom. That's in extreme examples.

But not here. It's obvious that Ziggy's winning, and the little monitor is engaging in a last-ditch effort to save his scuzzy skin (get it?). Something about the emphasis on "athletic!" and little beads of computer-sweat flying from the screen smacks of desperation.

Every time a computer loses a chess game the robot war is prolonged by fifteen minutes, and Ziggy's so accustomed to criticism that he'll probably fall for it.

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?

Future Hazy - Please Try Again Later

The worst part is that this is what she saw.

I like this strip - something about the way the words all run together at the end gives it an impromptu air. And if the arcane soothsayer's words are to be trusted, it's implied that Ziggy may remain single for his entire life. If that's the closest that she can get to a future love experience, I'd like to suggest that Ziggy go all the way and try out the celibate lifestyle. Something about his appearance in this strip suggests that he'd make a good monk.

Of course, if Ziggy's going to become a monk, now would be a good time for him to start following Biblical counsel: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." - Exodus 22:18. Inspiring words if I've ever heard them. There may never be a better chance to blame the messenger while tasting sweet, sweet okey-dokey-in-the-eyes-of-the-Almighty revenge.