Small & Big

Early this morning a vacuum sucking truck thing came to my house to clean out the septic tank. An hour later it left. I’m not sure what it did but there was a Big Stink and it left behind a brochure. The black and white tri-fold photocopy concerns the use and enjoyment of the Septic Tank. It’s got it all, and starts off with a bang. Once upon a time...       Good bacteria helps break down “solids”.      Anti-bacterial soap kills good bacteria. See how the Good Guy / Bad Guy moralistic set-up occurs straight off? I like that. There’s not a lot of space on an 8.5" x 11" paper to dilly-dally. Next, things quickly get hot and heavy, with:       Anti-bacterial soap can wreck a septic system. A long running family feud between the Anti-bacterials and the Septics makes a gripping read—just look at the Montagues and the Capulets in Romeo and Juliet . There’s trouble a’brewin’. It’s called conflict and it doesn’t end there:       “Solids” never break down 100%. Whoa. The word “solids

Yup, this cartoon makes my joke collection and my cartoon collection. One of my favorite lines, evah! Two guys. One is a restaurant patron holding a menu and the other is an annoyed waiter. The waiter says, “That filet is for ladies.” If you crave to know my extensive thoughts on this, see my previous post called My Joke Collection (#9) . Bon appétit! Go see lots of Charles Barsotti's cartoons on this New Yorker page or buy stuff with this cartoon on it .

Hah hah ha! What is there about talking animals? It’s my weakness. By animals I mean anything that’s got a face and isn’t human. Potatoes don’t count because they’ve only got eyes, present company excluded. Two butterflies. One has beautiful butterfly wings. The other has a Mondrian-inspired geometric wing pattern, very exact. Mondrian asks, “But how will we raise the kids?” The timeless question. Which religion? Which politics? Can a fine artist afford children? Who wins a Man versus Nature argument? And why is the Butterfly not called the Flutterby , because isn’t that what it does? I wonder what they decided. Go see lots of Robert Leighton's cartoons on this New Yorker page or buy stuff with this cartoon on it .

I don’t care if you are a dinosaur monster, people out the snoz gotta burn more than milk or corn coming out. Two monsters enjoy a night on the town, cracking open buildings and slurping up the people inside. One pauses, reminiscing, “Remember that time you made me laugh and people came out of my nose?” Why yes, cartoonist Arnie Levin and the New Yorker , yes I do. Go see more of Arnie Levin's funnies on this New Yorker page (it's fun!) or buy stuff with this cartoon on it .

Forks can’t hold their sauce and knives are bloodthirsty killing machines. The spork is an evolutionary dead end, like the mule. Chopsticks are contingent on a pinching technology that utilizes not one but two sticks—two! As if one weren’t pricey enough. And really, isn’t a chopstick a skeletal knife or a one-pronged fork? Phew! Let’s take a moment now to cleanse our auras of negative flatware vibrations and the fact that in my excitement to impress I typed the word utilize instead of use . Take a deep nose-breath into the lungs and belly. Hold, hold, keep holding. Okay now, release, release through the mouth. Release those negative ions. Every last ironic ion on or in us. Breathe ’em out, way away. They need not tarnish the upcoming spoon-fed vision. For, hark! The noble teaspoon: superior, trusted, and true. Tasty even. Ponder this morsel: You’re stranded on a deserted island with only one eating utensil. What would you choose to be stranded with? I say, Let it be a spoon and let i

“Anizo 100% Reality Mind.” What this means, I have no idea. A friend found it living in a vending machine on the street in China and brought it back to Boston for me. The one-inch tall yellow plastic guy (I think it’s a he) has a smile, a blue tear, a pair of hand holes, a growth atop his head pierced clean through, and, on his backside, a man getting squeezed between two lines that I hope do not represent butt cheeks. The warning printed on the paper insert commands, “Do not use as lifeguard equipment.” Anizo and I, we’re inseparable. Anizo 100% Reality Mind!

Are you a banker or a professional athlete? Are you a way-out professor or a clergyman? Find out now with the Sideburn Chart! It’s free! Look below to view the answer you seek. What’s the story behind this gem? I’m a sucker for church bake sales and, fortunately for me, every religious institution seems to have a worshiper with a stove. Fruited cookies, fresh bread, chocolate brownies, pecan pies. They often branch out into books too. No, not book burning: the selling of books—raw books. That’s how I came upon this handy-dandy Sideburn Chart (click it to enlarge) in an old 1970s paperback. Had to buy the entire boring book to get at it, so good thing it was in the box with the attractive “LOOK, Free Stuff!” sign. Yes, we at Small and Big devote ourselves to saving special antiquities from fading away forever. Please note that that is not my chocolate chip cookie stain on the man’s cheek, but rather an honest-to-goodness rosy cheeked cheek. That’s how one looks in black and whi

Parched dust gloms to her fur a mist of powdered straw dulls her dark overcoat fogging up the shine. Rolling in last year's stems she's a farm dog now wild fed, sand slept, flead, and full-time. Finding adrenalin in the dirt she twists quick, flaps into the wind and blinks her one-walk-a-day, feed-me-twice eyes. Barney the dog photo from www.whitehouse.gov/president/springatwhitehouse/07.html . Pretend that's dirt and dead grass he's rolling in and that he's a she. That makes it 'interactive' poetry.

Isn’t the Amish guy’s laid-back posture timeless? Harry Bliss sure can draw. That’s a pretty sweet ride. At speeds of up to 70 mph, the big cats are, like, the fastest runners on the planet. Except for that time a hornet stung me in my ankle and chased me around the house. Amish Midlife Crisis: An Amish man drives a convertible (carriage) pulled by two cheetahs. Mr. Bliss's website is at www.harrybliss.com . Go see more of the cartoonist's funnies on this New Yorker page or buy stuff with this cartoon on it . Get cheetah facts at Helium and Amish facts at Wikipedia . Also, I wrote a poem about my waspy experience. Go to Poems, Poems, Poems and look for one called Parade.

"I love having children," Robin Gibb tells the camera. Or maybe it's his brother Barry from the Bee Gees talking—I can't tell the difference. Most of us are much older today and many of us have beards. "I cannot imagine my life without kids." There's joy in his eyes and earnestness in his mouth. I don't mean to watch the cable show about The Bee Gees on Friday night. Honest. But by golly, when I see real joy on someone I stop to stare. Luckily, staring is why TV was invented. The scene cuts to a family album: smiles, two lovers gettin' married, kiddies, the whole works. Robin/Barry—wait a minute, maybe that's Andy. Maurice? For the sake of finishing my thought before disco comes back strong, let's move on. "Children allow us to have a second childhood," the singer says. "I get to be young again as I live life through their eyes." He's not the first person I've heard express this sentiment, just the most recen

Something fer the noggin from Calvin the boy and his stuffed but imaginatively real tiger, Hobbes. This cartoon learns me something new! I'd argue that the writing in this Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson could stand on its own, without drawings. It's a short story about philosophy, math, and religion. But Mr. Bill's energetic illustrations slather on the humor. Put that lecture in the mouth of a cute kid talking to his stuffed tiger and, well, if Calvin can understand this philosophy stuff, maybe I can too. Here’s a breakdown: Calvin (doing homework): You know, I don't think math is a science. I think it's a religion. Hobbes: A religion? Calvin: Yeah. All these equations are like miracles. You take two numbers and when you add them, they magically become one new number! No one can say how it happens. You either believe it or you don't. This whole book is full of things that have to be accepted on faith. It's a religion! Hobbes: And in the public school

Cats leave lots of stuff on us: dark fur, light fur, claw marks, tooth imprints, long dark fur, long light fur that's slightly wavy, roughed up skin from one too many lickin's, striped fur of various lengths, and happy drool. While these items are rarely permanent, isn't it high time us humans put something over on kitty cats? Visit folks who've taken that oh-so-important first step at Stuff On My Cat . Look at the booties on this catboy. Giddyup! Question Of The Day – Are cowboy boots a man's excuse to wear high heels? Small Print: No puddy tats were harmed in the making of this post.

Good comedy is all about snails... sheriffs... No, wait. Timing. Successful comedy is about timing. Here’s another goody from Charles Barsotti and the New Yorker . Three snails dressed as cowboys: an unshaven bad guy in black hat, a sheriff in white hat and star badge, and a bystander caught in the middle. I love the determined expression on the bad guy snail. The bystander says, “He’s long gone, sheriff—you’ll never catch him.” The bad guy is like ¼-inch away. Is the caption humorous on its own? I think not. Is the drawing amusing on its own? It’s cute, but. So two unfunnies can make a laugh riot. Mathematics is funny that way. Mr. Barsotti’s website is at www.barsotti.com . Go see more of the cartoonist Mr. Barsotti's funnies on this New Yorker page or buy stuff with this cartoon on it . Be quick about it!

I took another test. You know me, first in line for any test. It was time for me to find out "What Tarot Card are You?" After asking for my opinion on important matters such as favorite colors (all of 'em) and my sex (yes, no, maybe), the CyberWarlock proclaims that the tarot card that best describes me is the Sun. Please don't stare up into the day sky to see me. Let's practice eye safety and instead examine pictures from three card decks thoughtfully supplied by the Warlock. The angel-hair-muscled-beer-belly artwork at upper left is evocative and Dr. Hypnosis Makes the Ladies Dance looks promising, but I admit that I'm a bit frightened by the third illustration. Is the archer me? If so, my knees are on backwards, which probably explains the flames. Enough about art. Let's talk about me. Here's what the Warlock proclaims about P.L. Frederick. You are The Sun Happiness, Content, Joy. (A nice way to start.) The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple a

(Image missing) Rose Is Rose makes for sweet reading. The caring cartoon family is lovingly created by cartoonists Pat Brady and Don Wimmer. The picture from comics.com will eventually go away so for prosterity's sake I'll record an official transcription of said cartoon:      Panel 1: Rose fills glass of water from her kitchen.      Panel 2: She leaves house with the glass.      Panel 3: She walks to the back of a motor home,      reaches its ladder.      Panel 4: Climbing atop motor home, Rose hands      spilling glass to her chubby mother. Mom sits in a      lounge chair, relaxing and smiling. She's got a rug      and maybe an eating trough handy. Rose says,      "Mom! I wish you'd stay in the house with      us when you visit!" Mom responds, "Oh! I      wouldn't want to be a burden!" Sometimes the stuff we choose to do or believe does not in reality "make things easier for others". Instead, it's an excuse to continue doing w