Are you reading enough comic strips?

Tyrades! by Danny Tyree

I’m heartbroken that cartoonist Scott Adams recently self-destructed -- but hold the presses! This big, beautiful world still has plenty of comic strips to tickle our funny bones.

Don’t believe me? I crunched the numbers and realized that on a good day, I read some 138 comic strips and panels!

(On a GREAT day, I place some 138 comic strips and panels in a folder marked “Tomorrow,” put on my wife’s favorite mood music, go pantsless like Ziggy and…well, this being a family newspaper, never mind. Mary Worth’s ticker couldn’t handle the details.)

My obsession has grown with time and technology, but my interest in the funnies goes way back. I have a photograph of myself at less than two years old, “reading” the Sunday comics. I couldn’t get enough of Donald Duck, Henry, Li’l Abner, Maggie and Jiggs and the rest.

Back then, I never dreamed I would someday have the comics-reading opportunities I enjoy now. (No, I probably dreamed about Henry, Abner, Maggie and Jiggs going duck hunting. Hey, my father could have canceled the subscription if my nightmares messed with his sleep that much.)

Of course, it requires some furious speed reading to achieve my daily goal of slapstick and wry observation; but I don’t think I sacrifice anything in comprehension. Andy Capp did get ordained as a minister, didn’t he? And Prince Valiant is rocking that shaved head, right?

Comic strips have given me a different take on social rejection. I now say, “I don’t have to stay where I’m not wanted…unless it’s at Mr. Wilson’s house.” I’m such a menace.

“The Family Circus” has rewired my brain to the extent that I’m terrified of traffic stops. If asked if I knew that I ran a stop sign, I would probably burst out with “Ida Know” and “Not Me.” I’m glad I don’t drink, because a field sobriety test would doubtless have me leaving little dotted lines all over the neighborhood.

Comic strips and religious observance sometimes clash. When the preacher encourages me to think about Something Bigger Than Myself, my first thought is, “What? My appetite for lasagna?”

...continued

swipe to next page