Ziggy Liberated: The End

Well, here we are - one year of Ziggy analyzed, sometimes heckled and only occasionally criticized. Ziggy Liberated is on the home stretch, and other things have taken my interest of late, but dangit if I didn't promise I'd tread the dusty trail to Ziggy's April 8th strip! And traverse the final week we will, in a little post I like to call "Too Much, Too Late."

I may eventually turn this site into something else entirely (we'll keep the archives, of course). Check back in a couple of months! It's been fun!

(Note: for an explanation of what this site is and why on God's green Earth I decided to do something like it, please see this post.)



Ah, yes - the old sign which has no function other than to comment upon and warn against its own existence. It's an old comedy standby, and for good reason - we're not comfortable with the idea of inanimate self-reference, particularly when the item in question exists purely for the purpose of this cautionary self-reference.

Of course, Ziggy's confusion may stem more from the fact that this sign wasn't in his living room yesterday and all of the doors and windows are still sealed.


I've been known to remark that there are two kinds of nations: those with ubiquitous bicycle racks and those whose citizens use the skin of tarantulas to make drums. I'd like to think that the irony in the statement protects me from any allegations of racism, yet it's undeniable that such a statement is shortsighted, impolite and uninformed. So it is without any fear of further ruining my reputation that I state that the best exchange rate in the world wouldn't cover up the fact that I'd be killed by enormous pitcher plants minutes after getting off of the plane.


"A coup!" the people shouted as the gen'ral came upon,
The television screen as he began to prattle on.
"Beware the FDA!" he said. "And shun the FCC!
In fact, the only one that you have cause to trust is me!"

He made his case quite plainly: "As protector of the peace
I've found myself quite able in my job, to say the least.
My warnings on tobacco, alcohol and magazines,
Have surely helped us all in steering clear of nasty things!"

"I've stood firm in my duties and I patiently await,
The transfer to my hands of standing armies and the State."


"Oh, wait. He went to that kinky medical school."


Geez, Ziggy really needs to catch on. These animals don't care if the movie doesn't have animals - they watch what they want!

"Hey, why are you eating that apple cereal if it doesn't taste like apple?"
"Shut your noisehole, Dad!" ™

Geez, climb up a mountain with nothing but your bare hands and look what happens at the top! I'm willing to bet here that this is the last time Ziggy every does anything again.


"Hyuk! Just thought that I'd poke my creepy head into your living space and make you fear for your own security! Don't mind me - I'll just be wandering around outside, critiquing the decor and just generally making a scat-coated mess of things."

We don't like the idea of nature intruding into our homes, though walls and ceilings are an arbitrary division and they occupy the same space. Frankly we're not too keen on nature in its own habitat, either: I vividly recall my youthful horror as a couple of ne'er-do-will fellow Boy Scouts on a camping trip spent much of their days catching crawdads and crushing their arms off with pliers. Were we to find a crawdad in our house I doubt we'd stop at the arms (and, though Good Samaritan I am, a piece of paper fitted under a cup hardly seems up to the task of letting them loose again outside).

Our fungicides, shoe soles and screens do an admiral job of reinforcing the illusion that there are two distinct and separate types of locations in this world: Inside and Outside. Good luck with that, human race.


Seems a fitting end to a year-long philosophical analysis of Ziggy. Thanks, everybody!

"I wuv you!"

. . . and I Must Scream

Though I have but a month or so left of doing this blog (I will be ending this feature with the analysis of April 8's strip), I can't help but feel that this feature is also winding down, much like the apocalyptic end of Bloom County or, for that matter, the way a friend will often go terribly mad before going on a vacation (whether the one follows the other is hard to tell). Ziggy's world for this past week seems more sordid, more terrible and arbitrary than ever before. I hope April 8 isn't some boring, mundane strip and I have to eat my words.

By the way, is this creepy?:

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.

Due Explanation: Why Ziggy?

This site came about in response to a mental turnaround of sorts that I've recently experienced. I never used to like Ziggy. I think that I used to lump it into the same category as exploitative schlock like The Born Loser or Cathy. Boy, was I wrong.

After reading the feature regularly I've grown to appreciate the little pantsless wonder. Once a week or so I'll see a fantastic, surreal strip - one that tops nearly everything else in the comics. Ziggy first caught my eye when I saw a strip featuring Ziggy's doctor, a manic gleam in his eye, saying "First we'll build up your strength for the x-rays!" as our protagonist sat terrified on an exam chair. The little hospital outfit he was wearing didn't vary much from his usual motif - just a different shade.

This one pushed me over the edge:



Ziggy lives in such an arbitrary universe, so strange and sad, that I can't help but to love the feature. In the only way I know how, I aim to expose the machinations of Ziggy, the great philosopher, the man-child who can say so much with nothing but a look of sad resignation and a favorite shirt.

So, stay tuned - it's going to be a fun ride.

EDIT: One more announcement - this is going to be a year-long project, after which I'll move onto something else. Whatever this turns into over the course of the next three hundred sixty-five some-odd days, I'll stick with it.


(adapted from previous remarks)