Armor vs. Reebok

Today's Bizarro is brought to you be People Puppies.

When I see a movie in which ancient warriors are whacking away at each other with 15 lbs. swords, in heavy armor and skirts and sandals, I always imagine how easy it would be to defeat them if you had a pair of good, modern running shoes and a lightweight sword. While they are struggling in slow motion under the weight of their equipment, just run around behind them and stab them in the ass.

If you're now saying "But Dan, since you're traveling back in time with modern athletic shoes, why not just bring a gun, too?" shut up right now. This is my fantasy, and I want it to be at least a little bit fair. Any ape with a trigger finger can defeat pre-gun opponents if they're wielding a gun. Where's the honor in that?

If you're now saying, "But Dan, where is the honor in any fight against ancient people with whom you have no quarrel? Aren't you just trying to say, 'look how smart I am with my fast modern shoes and lighter weapon? Don't you feel silly now in all that gigantic, macho armor? Who's the tough guy now?' " didn't I just tell you to shut up?

Twitter and Twits

Bizarro is brought to you today by Gifted Equines.

I don't Twitter yet – or Tweet, or Twit – but I'm told I should. I can't remember anything else ever sweeping the globe as quickly as this thing has. A year ago, I don't know that I'd even heard of Twitter, now I can't watch five minutes of the news without someone mentioning it. As well as millions of average nobodies like you and me, celebs, polititicians, terrorists, and who-knows-who else is Tweeting. Here's a random sample from this morning:

Demi Moore..."Ashton is playing with his Hot Wheels on the living room floor again and some of my lady friends are coming over for bridge soon!"

John McCain..."Okay, I confess, I'm a young guy hired to make McCain look hip. He's sleeping in the back seat of the limo again."

Pope Benedict XVI..."Damn, these masses are long. I get hungry. Thank God I thought to stash some bratwurst and beer in my big tall hat."

Okay, I admit that last one was made up. The pope likely is Tweeting, but I doubt any of them are about bratwurst or beer. More likely, he sends out hourly reminders for people not to use contraception or to let their women get too much authority.

Speaking of which, Sarah Palin has been batting 1000 lately. Man, what a media train wreck she is. Her "Quitters Are Losers And I'm No Loser So I'm Quitting The Governorship" speech led me to create the following image. Hope you like it. If you don't recognize the reference, watch this.

The Devil, You Say?

Bizarro is brought to you today by Pure Evil.

This cartoon resulted in a lot of emails from readers, as I suspected it would. The majority loved the cartoon because they hate Cheney, but a few folks are among the dozen-or-so Americans who still support the Dick and wrote to register their complaints.

Some people just wrote asking what this cartoon means. Apparently, there are a lot of folks who are not familiar with the expression that has become popular with some Christian teens: WWJD? (What Would Jesus Do?)

This slogan is the latest in a couple thousand years of attempts at keeping youngsters out of trouble and away from sex. When you're all worked up and pulling at the buttons of your clothing, you're supposed to ask yourself, "What would Jesus do if He were here in this situation?"

Well, Michael, Jesus wouldn't be in the back seat of his Hyundai on top of Jessica from Algebra class in the first place, He'd be standing on a downtown street corner shouting at passers-by, so you're on your own.

Trying to fight teenage lust with religious guilt is like trying to stay dry in a hurricane with an umbrella. In both cases, it makes more sense to pass out the raincoats and weather the storm.

NOTE: Just for giggles, here's an image I created before the 2004 "elections."

Dragon Tease

(View this cartoon in LifesizeDragonColor! by clicking the behemoth's eyeballs with your mouse thingy.)

Today's Bizarro is brought to you by Misunderstood Pets.

If you are a regular reader of my humble graphic musings, you will recognize that this is one of the rare occasions on which I have told a story in sequential form. Even more rare is the fact that it is without words, but for one minor exception. More rare still, is that when cut out of the newspaper or printed out of your computer and folded properly, it becomes a picture of Bay Watch's David Hasselhoff balancing on the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. The addition of a pink Tic Tack in just the right place, makes it looks as though he is nude.

For more about David Hasselhoff and scary reptiles, go here.

Happy and Erect Fourth!

Bizarro is brought to you today by the Phallic Police.

I'm not a doctor, but I saw one on TV. So I feel fully qualified to say that I'll bet 90% of so-called "erectile dysfunction" is caused by poor blood circulation brought on by fat in the viens caused by a crappy diet. We eat garbage and too much of it, then complain because it ruins our bodies, then drug companies design a work-around so you can have your chili cheese fries and boner, too. Until you drop dead, of course.

So instead, let's address Independence Day. I was fortunate to grow up in a less civilized place and time when it was both legal and socially acceptable to hand a grocery bag full of explosives to a child and send him outside to play. My siblings, cousins, friends and I did this each year, blowing up our toys, the local flora, items from the trash, and occasionally each other. Sure, an occasional finger or eye was sacrificed to "independence," but what good is a democracy without some wounded veterans?

As teens we graduated to bottle rocket fights, which entailed making a "gun" by attaching a handle of some kind to a piece of plastic pipe, loading a bottle rocket into the pipe, lighting it, pointing it at your opponent, and laughing as they ducked the airborne incendiary. Large groups of us would go to an industrial park or gravel pit, divide up into two armies and shoot at each other till we ran out of ammo. Casualties were anonymously deposited on their parents' front porch and most people just chalked it up to another teen lost to the cause of freedom.

Now, thanks to the godless, homosexual girlyman liberals, there are laws against explosives inside city limits and children are not allowed to leave the house without safety helmets and proof of insurance. I wonder how we expect to defend our way of life in the future if youngsters are not accustomed to working with explosives.

I never thought I'd live to see this day (with my one good eye.)

Menu of Death

Bizarro is brought to you today by Abstinence.

We all spend at least a little time wondering what certain types of death are like. They say drowning isn't as bad as it sounds because you pass out rather quickly, your brain being unable to open your mouth and take in water. Still sounds terrifying to me. Freezing to death is also said to be merciful because you "just fall asleep." But I hate to be cold. What about all those hours or days of misery before you fall asleep?

Beheading seems quick and almost merciful, but I wonder. How long does your brain stay conscious after separation? It's got to be at least a few seconds, right? Are your last thoughts and sights that of being upside down in a basket? Does your neck hurt? If someone picked your head up really fast and turned it toward your body, would you be able to see it?

The most peaceful death would be an overdose of sleeping pills, I suppose. But I also think I would not mind having my head blown off by surprise. Sounds terrible, I know, but let's say I'm walking down the street, whistling a happy tune, I spot an attractive lady in a short skirt carrying a cute puppy and I smile, then my hat explodes. What do I care?

I have often said that if there is ever a major nuclear attack within 500 miles of me, I want to be at ground zero. I'd much rather go up in a flash of light and be done with it than die slowly of radiation poisoning or spend a couple of years in a basement with god-knows-who, eating god-knows-what, wondering WTF? I would rather die than live in a world like that.

Of course, I feel the same way about a Sarah Palin presidency.

Help a Brother Out?

I'm a regular columnist for VegNews magazine, writing a column in each issue about the humorous side of vegetarianism and veganism called "Plant-Based Piraro." Once each year, the magazine sponsors a vote for readers' favorite this-and-that.

If you want to help a great cause, go to this page and vote for the following two nominees in these two categories:
Best Animal Sanctuary....Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary
Best Column...Plant-Based Piraro (sample article from last year here)

You have to cycle through the categories to find those two, along the way you can vote for whatever you wish, of course, or nothing. Whatever suits you. At the end, they'll ask for your email address and name, if you provide it you'll be entered to win some prizes, but it isn't necessary if you prefer to remain anonymous.

Thanks, kids. You're "phat," "stoopid" and "sick."