Father's Day

Do you have any idea how difficult it is shopping for a birthday card for your abusive alcoholic father?

Well I do.

I mean, most cards are crap anyway, all dripping with disgusting, artificial sentimentality or lame, unfunny, and therefore "family friendly" jokes. In fact, I really do feel like if you ever want to see everything that's wrong with american humor and taste sensibilities, just look at the greeting card shelf. I'm certain there's a clue there somewhere.

But back to the point. I mean, I look at some of these "Birthday for Dad" cards, like "Here's a spot to hold your beer!" but there's not really anything for the gin and tonic set. Or there's another card that says, "Thanks for always being there for me." Well, I suppose he was. It was actually less of him being there and more my being there with him, as he always has been extremely possessive and protective of me, wanting me to stay at his house for hours on end, even if we don't do anything together.

And then there's another card: "For a man who means so much to so many people, Happy Birthday from one of them." Well, except for the fact that he's alienated virtually everybody in his life, so I'm pretty much all he has left.

But in the end, I had to pick one, because he didn't want a present. For the last couple years, all he's ever wanted on Christmas and on his birthday would be just one thing. All he wanted was a card that said, "I love you, Dad." That's all.

We had a nice day together. We haven't watched a movie together in over a year, mainly since the only thing he really wants to watch anymore is the lightest and most straight-forward of comedies. So I rented a Muppet Show tape, guest-starring some favorites of ours, John Cleese, Peter Sellers, and Dudley Moore. And afterwards, I spent awhile telling him about my Bub and Johnny comic. It had occured to me that I hadn't told him anything about it yet or about Stacy. It was a good day.

He was already pouring another shot of gin into the stained crystal glass of tonic water when I gave him the card. He almost thought I had forgotten. When I left the house, there were tears in his eyes.

READ A COMIC!

It is so frickin' surreal seeing the words V FOR VENDETTA plastered everywhere on TV, on ads, and in the news. The title of one of the truly great graphic novels of all time by the single greatest living comic writer (rest in peace, Will Eisner), now in the public conciousness where it belongs. Where all such comics belong. Even though the movie's comic roots won't be given their due credit in the film's credits (thanks to Alan Moore's legal action, because as brilliant as he is, he's also bugfuck crazy, which only helps his brilliance), I truly hope this will create great interest in the book and maybe the medium.

Of course, superhero movies haven't really helped comics for jack, because kids would rather buy Spider-Man toothpaste than read an actual comic book, so there you go. And no one really seemed to care for the source material of GHOST WORLD, ROAD TO PERDITION, and A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE. Regardless, people, read a comic. It's good for you.

Kudos to Jon Stewart for bringing up how it originally was a comic and how it was a response to the Thatcher administration. And while we're at it, BIG kudos to Stephen Colbert for his salute to 85-year-old MAD Magazine Fold-In artist Al Jaffe (whose work can also be seen in AMERICA: THE BOOK). Jaffe's work is one of the last truly great ties MAD still has to their roots, even if Colbert's audience didn't seem to appreciate it. Plebians.

If Handy the evil hand puppet were here now, he'd say, "It's V FOR VENDETTA...? It's a graphic novel...? It's Alan Moore...? READ A COMIC!"