Sorry for the lateness of the post. It’s been a hell of a day; I had to go in to work a couple hours early, leave a couple hours late, then went direct to a show. Long story short, it’s been about a 16 and a half hour day. Yet still, I go on. Why? I could say that it’s because I only live to serve you, Loyal Reader, but frankly, I don’t think I can pull that off in my fatigued state. So I’ll be completely honest with you. The reason is: Boobs!
Yep, we return today to country music with one of the genre’s grand dames, Dolly Pawton. And she’s drawn… well, not quite proportionally to her human counterpart, because that wouldn’t be possible within the confines of a daily comic strip, but at least with an awareness that, to borrow a phrase, her boozwams are tremendulous.
And I say that with a certain affection for the lady–I can’t claim any real fandom, but I’ve definitely felt positively toward her since seeing her perform “Travelin’ Through” at the Oscars a couple years ago and clearly having the time of her life, even though she clearly wasn’t going to win. Despite that, I still know her best and first for her ginormous womblies.
I, and I think most midwestern boys of my age, knew her for her ginormous womblies before we really understood that society generally considered ginormous womblies to be a good thing.
(I know, I know, appalling. Quick, without looking it up… what color are Dolly Parton’s eyes?)
Anyhow, I kind of have a bone to pick with Dolly Pawton’s (the cartoon character’s) boogly boogly shoops. Not the size; as I said before, those jigglypuffs are quite admirably rendered. No, my concern is this: Dolly Pawton is a cat. Therefore, rather than a pair of 16-pound bowling balls in her blouse, she should have an octet of oogly booglies.
I feel passionately about this issue. Enough that I hope to rectify it at some point in the fairly near future. Being an improvisor in Chicago, I’m in a near-constant state of “working on a sketch show.” (It really doesn’t make sense, but the two things do go hand-in-hand, even though they shouldn’t.) Anyhow, an eight-gazongaed country singer is definitely on my short (and bouncy) list of proposed characters.
There’s some jokey bits in the strip, but they’re tough to motorboat so I’m going to go to bed instead of talking about them.
Hot God. “Napoleon Bonaparte” becomes “linoleum blown apart?” This is wordplay that’s supposed to be CLEVER?
I take back what I wrote yesterday. Rip off “Get Fuzzy” all you like, sCancerella. It’s FAR less painful and horrifying.
Comment by Happenstance — May 30, 2008 @ 2:22 am