Looking for a one-of-a-kind tattoo, now that everyone has ’em?
I bet you didn’t think of hiccups as a possible solution, but anything’s worth a try at least once. So keep in mind these handy tips for inducing hiccups: have a large meal; do something really exciting (like buying a new comic, for instance); forget to breathe properly while laughing (which can also be achieved by buying a new comic, as long as it’s funny); swallow your food whole like an owl, or drink water like you’re a cow in hot weather (76 litres a day!) Is it working yet?
This Charles Rodrigues cartoon comes from a nifty little collection titled Spitting On the Sheriff and Other Diversions, first published in 1966. “Do you dig“, it asks the potential reader, « Crazy graveyards? Hilarious hangings that really swing? Sick medical humor? Screamingly funny torture-chamber gags? » What kind of stupid questions are those? Of course we dig!
If you’re hungry *hic* for more material from this collection without having to actually hunt it down, this blog has twenty or so other examples of Rodrigues’ sick, sick sense of humour.
B. Kliban may not be a name that’s familiar to many (unless you’re one of those people who pays attention to the signature beneath a painting), but his cats will certainly ring a few bells, so to speak. They can be found on stickers and greeting cards, mugs and t-shirts, and, above all, calendars. Kliban’s Cat, a collection of cat cartoons that was published in 1975, was an instant hit, and its popularity hasn’t waned since.
One of the felines inhabiting the original Kliban’s Cat. Catchy little ditty, isn’t it? The official B. Kliban website is http://www.eatmousies.com/ – which is a very cute move.
One would expect something that’s been around for so long to be terrible and generic and banal (just think of Garfield merchandise – yuck!), yet each year a new calendar comes out, and each year it’s still stunningly beautiful. Kliban lamentably and tragically died in 1990, at only 55. Either he left behind an impressive number of cat paintings, or his ghost still comes out from retirement from time to time to continue the tradition. I mean, look:
« People assume I’m gaga about cats. I like them, but I’m not silly about them. Cats look like cartoons. There’s something funny and vulnerable and innocent about them. » (from a 1978 interview.)
Okay, the late 2010s seem to have some sort of carrot theme…
Maybe these images are created by a dedicated team of artists hell-bent on imitating Kliban’s style as closely as possible, adroitly channeling his absurd sense of humour, dressing in the Kliban uniform (jeans and sandals) to increase their precision. After all, if talented art forgers can copy a Vermeer or Picasso so meticulously that it confuses the experts…
As lovely as his felines are, it’s too really too bad that Kliban’s other books (most of them published by Workman Publishing) have been swallowed by the hungry maw of obscurity. His peculiar sense of humour, his love of puns and his unorthodox approach to everything from relationships to kitchen implements wonderfully combine with stylish art to create a glorious mindfuck in cartoon form. His books – Never Eat Anything Bigger Than Your Head, and Other Drawings (1976), Whack Your Porcupine, and Other Drawings (1977), Tiny Footprints, and Other Drawings (1978), Playboy’s Kliban (1979), Two Guys Fooling Around With the Moon (1982) and Luminous Animals (published by Penguin Books in 1983) – will make you wonder if Kliban ever underwent psychoanalysis, whether his doctor managed to hold on to *his* sanity after their sessions, and whether you should get psychoanalysed, too, because why else would you be enjoying these cartoons so much? The NY Times did a tribute to Kliban when he died in 1990, and all the author of the piece could say, somewhat diplomatically, is that « the books that followed Cat consisted mostly of extremely bizarre cartoons that find their humour in their utter strangeness and extremely unlikely environments. »
« Please », the journalist seemed to be saying, « can I go back to talking about cats already and skip over the weird shit? »
So here’s an example of some pleasurable weirdness:
Edgar Asleep has been scanned from Luminous Animals and Other Drawings (1983).
Kliban’s other work has certainly been overshadowed by cats, but at least it gave him financial security… and a life full of cats, drawn and otherwise, which is not that bad a thing.
« I spend twenty seven years making monsters and what does it get me?… A room full of monsters! » (Playboy, June 1972)
« I hope I will not be accused of undue vanity if I publicly thank Mr. Addams for immortalizing me in the person of the witch’s butler, to say nothing of the rather hairy gentleman whose clothes are strangely cut and who appears to subsist on a diet of bananas. » — Boris Karloff, from his foreword to the Addams collection Drawn and Quartered (Random House, 1942)
At the risk of being obvious, the ghoulish wit of Charles Addams brings us Hallowe’en on any old day of the year… but it’s no reason to take him for granted when the proper season slinks into view. Here’s a small selection of favourites. I’ve noticed that many latter-day collections have been plagued by terrible reproduction (heads should roll for that particular crime against art!), so I’ve gone back to the original collections in my library. Enjoy, fiends!
A lovely piece originally featured on the cover of The New Yorker‘s November 2, 1963 issue. This logo-free version was reprinted in The Groaning Board (Simon and Schuster, 1964.)Addams at his understated best. A 1953 cartoon collected in Homebodies (1954, Simon and Schuster.)« Well, here’s where I say good night. » A Morticia prototype from an undated cartoon collected in the first Addams collection, Drawn and Quartered (Random House, 1942.)« While you’re here, there’s a squeaky trap-door I’d like you to look at. » That’s the Morticia we’ve come to know. Also reprinted in Drawn and Quartered (Random House, 1942.)
On a damp and chilly night, is there a finer way to keep warm than huddling with your beloved?
From The New Yorker 1955-1965 Album, published by Harper & Row.
Richard Decker, (b. Philadelphia, PA, May 6, 1907, d. November 1, 1988) fruitfully spent four decades as a contract cartoonist for the New Yorker. His association with the magazine began in 1929.
Along the same ordre d’idées, here’s a bonus piece about the evocative magic of old time radio, by long-time Gasoline Alley cartoonist (and bluegrass fiddler) Jim Scancarelli (b. 1941), from the April, 1979 issue of Child Life Magazine.
Care to fully capture and bask in this delicious melancholy? Go ahead, pour yourself a snifter of your favourite poison, hunker down in your coziest chair, and enjoy an episode or three of the classic The Shadow radio show, starring Orson Welles.
A quick post in salute of Hugh Hefner (1926-2017), who truly was a lot of things to a lot of people, but to me, he remains, chief among these, one rare and precious thing: a steadfast, lifelong friend and patron to great cartoonists, a man of taste, at least in that particular area.
Here are a few relevant pieces. Mere drops in the bottomless bucket. All in good time, we’ll return to this topic.
« I’ve been thrilled by the dazzling breakaway of your four-speed, close-ratio, synchromesh, manual transmission, and the lusty surge of your 315-horsepower, fuel-injection, high-lift cam engine… »
It’s astonishing how much toil an artist will put in, just to sell a simple gag. It doesn’t hurt if he’s recompensed decently, of course. Case in point: Ben Denison, for Playboy Magazine’s November, 1961 issue. Hugh Hefner has always known the value of his contributors, bless his great big heart.
Erich Sokol (b. Vienna, 1933 – d. Mödling, 2003), originally published in Playboy’s September, 1960 issue.« This is nothing, wait until you see thewomen. »
Dink Siegel (1910-2003), from Playboy’s May, 1968 issue.
