There are several special tools made for opening plastic clamshell packages, and many of them come in plastic clamshell packages, because even savvy entrepreneurs have trouble resisting the urge to be cute.
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Here it is! The very first appearance of Rocket Hat and the Emperor of the Moon, and the Moon Men! I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty proud of what I did with my motley crew of useless superheroes and villains, and this is where it all started.
A couple of interesting notes. The name “Rocket Hat” doesn’t appear anywhere in this particular comic. Also, I dropped the running joke of having the Emperor shout “the details are unimportant” after this comic, but readers continued quoting it to me in e-mails for years.
Note from Missy: I do like how the Moon-Minion’s outfit is more fat-Elvis here, as opposed to the adult-sized Onesie it evolved into.
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I once had a job that involved standing in a prominent, but non-specific spot for an extended period of time. As long as I was easily visible and could see a specific area well, I could stand anywhere I wanted. It was not a job with a demanding list of qualifications.
Anyway, I had one coworker who insisted on standing right next to me, within my personal space. They often stood so close that we were touching. Again, bear in mind, they could stand anywhere in a thirty square yard space, and they chose to stand on top of me.
I did the only think I could do. I made a game out of it. I would slowly move away, forcing the other person to follow me. Once, when I got tired of just doing laps of the area, I got them to follow me in a figure eight pattern.
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I wrote this strip when I’d finally had enough of readers asking why “That bald guy is married to a lesbian.” I guess the issue was that Missy has shortish hair and glasses. I was pretty disappointed with the people who made this joke, and tried to make my point with this comic.
I was also disappointed with the readers (sadly, more than one) who felt it necessary to write me to share some “surprising news I might not know” about Ms. De Rossi.
I know a guy who, as a young comedian in the eighties, asked Ellen DeGeneres out on a date. She declined. A few years ago, he discovered Arrested Development, and expressed an interest in Portia De Rossi. Discovering that Ms. De Rossi is married to Ms. DeGeneres was much more meaningful for him than it was for the rest of us.
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I am not what you’d call “outdoorsy.” My father is. As such, when I was a child, most of our family vacations involved fishing, clamming, crabbing, or picking blueberries.
For the first few years of my life we would sleep in tents, but then dad made a sort of home-brewed RV by building plywood furniture in an old van he’d bought as surplus from the phone company.
When I pointed out that our vacation consisted of spending our days looking for food, and our nights sleeping in a windowless van, I was chastised for my poor attitude.
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It’s funny how technological change rolls out at different speeds. When I took on my job as an office manager, I had already been all-digital with my schedule and contacts for years. (a large part of actually making a living as a standup comic actually comes down to schedule and contact information management.)
When I got the office manager job, many of the company’s executives were just beginning to make the transition from Rolodexes and Dayrunners to software, and it fell to me to do quite a bit of data entry. Then, often, I would be asked to print the information I had entered in a format that would easily fit into preexisting Dayrunners and Rolodexes.
The software of the time often had an easy means of making those prints automatically, but it still irked me.
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Because of where I worked, and my attitude about princess movies, I saw the live theme park production of Beauty and the Beast dozens of times before I ever saw the animated film. I don’t plan to ever see the live version they’re about to release, despite the presence of Hermione and cousin Matthew, because this man is not playing Lumière, and as such the entire enterprise is fatally flawed.
The thing that always struck me about Beauty and the Beast is that even after the Beast changes back into a human, everyone still pictures him as he used to look, and calls him “Beast.” He’s kinda like Leonard Nimoy in that regard.
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The specific model this comic was written about is no longer available, but a similar product can be had for under $50.
On a related note, I think that seeing something really cool exists, and knowing that you could buy it, but choosing not to because the item serves no useful purpose in your life is one of the hallmarks of adulthood, and also is one of the reasons kids find adults insufferably boring.
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I don’t trust birds. I think it has to do with the fact that we raised peacocks when I was a child. They were not pleasant.
Later, when I lived in Seattle, all I ever saw were seagulls in the distance and pigeons on the sidewalk. Over time, my mistrust of birds receded into the background.
Then we moved to Florida. There are birds there that are brave enough to walk up to you when you’re sitting down outdoors, like at a café, or in a parked car, and tall enough to look you in the eye when they do it. The first time I was confronted by one of them, my peacock-driven mistrust came roaring back. Then I attended a wildlife show where live birds of prey flew inches over the heads of the audience.
The next day, I wrote this comic.
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This comic is based directly on a real conversation. A person I know talked about how his father never beat him, but did teach him right from wrong, using the improvised device mullet boss describes here. The person talking even referred to it as a homemade cat-o-nine-tails. I tried to point out the absurdity of the situation to him at the time. My father never beat me, just flogged me with an implement he made himself, like “Wonderboy” from The Natural. He was incapable of seeing it, and looked at me as if I was talking crazy.
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