And so is Shorty. I’m sorry for posting this a day late. I had some personal problems that took up all my time. But things are getting back to normal now. At least as normal as they ever get in the Grace mansion. I had two emails regarding the wild fruit I was eating on my September 7 blog. Turns out those things are pawpaws. I’d heard of them, but never saw one or ate one. A tip of the hat to Arnold and Arthur. Check this out. I heard it when I was a kid. I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on, so here’s the second week of Grandpa trying to bust out…(BTW, I have another two week story about Grandpa, Shorty and Nurse Heimlich waiting in the wings. I don’t know when I’ll publish it, but here’s a little hint: Grandpa falls in love. Uh-oh!)
Except when I go to bars and drink. Hey, Last Friday we stopped in to see Eddie Pockey and Brint Hanny making music. Pretty good old country music. This October we’ll run out to Winchester for their yearly hoedown
The Frau and I took a walk down by the Potomac today. This is Seneca Park.
If you don’t know, the Seneca were native American tribes of the Five Nations. They were in the Northeast. I had a very good elderly friend who resided at the nursing home where I volunteer. She was a Mohawk Indian, and her name was Ruth Seneca. She passed away eight years ago.
Some fellows were down by the river gathering what they called ananos(?) from the small trees along the bank. The fruit is green, about the size of a baked pototo. It has large seeds like a papaya. The flesh is very sweet and mushy, and it tastes like a banana. I never knew they existed. Yum
Here’s Frau Grace taking a picture of a pileated woodpecker. He’s at the top of the branch that slopes to the left. Maybe you can pick him out…
Shawn B. emailed me and recalled a favorite story of his. Grandpa Fernwilter and Shorty trying yet once again to bust out of the nursing home. It’s from 2008. I realize that I posted a different Grandpa and Shorty story just a couple of weeks ago. But here’s week one anyway. Notice the Tarzan language? Who besides me knows the meaning of the words?…
Be forewarned, folks. This is pretty risky stuff here. These are the original comix that were axed by my editor. But don’t blame him. Lots of readers would find these three strips offensive. The original dates of publication were to be September 4, 5 and 13.
A while back we had a party at our place in Virginia. One of the gals just sent me some pictures. I often disrobe when I drink tequila.In my Swedish comic book I often give advice. Here’s an entry from 2011…
Last time I gave you single guys out there some hints on how to meet and woo beautiful women. Unfortunately, for many of you who are such pathetic losers, even my carefully researched advice doesn’t work. There are a few among you, even if you had a face like Brad Pitt, a body like Arnold Schwarzenegger (a long time ago), and smelled like a rose bud in May, you couldn’t pick up a hundred dollar bill if it landed in your lap. It’s called Natural Selection. It’s nature’s way of making sure you don’t foul the gene pool. But you shouldn’t despair, because there lots more in life than women. Think about it. All women do once you marry one of them is cook your food, clean the house, make the bed, iron your clothes, wash the dishes, wash the windows, paint the house, slop the hogs, milk the cow, pay the bills, buy your beer, and once every three or four years give you a little wink-wink nudge-nudge. Who needs that? There are lots of interesting social organizations out there which you can join and which can give meaning to your pitiful, banal existence. Here are just a few:
A. The International Frog Club (IFC). The IFC is an organization of frog aficionados. They love everything about frogs: their buggy eyes, how they eat flies with their long sticky tongues, how they feel crawling all over your body when you take your Saturday bath etc. Events include Thursday Night Frog Kissing, the Dress Your Frog Like Michael Jackson, and the ever popular Guess Where I Hid My Frog game.
B. The He-Man Moose Slapping Club (H-MMSC). Members go into the forest and slap mooses.
C. The He-Man Ambulance Club (H-MAC). Most members of the H-MMSC are also members of the H-MAC.
C. The Itchy Men’s Association (IMA). This, as the club’s name implies, is for men who constantly scratch themselves. I’m sure you’ve noticed them. They scratch their heads, their armpits, their backs, their feet, their crotches, no matter where they are or whom they’re with. You’d probably feel right at home in this group. Weekly meetings feature discussions and lectures on such diverse topics as:
How to Sit on Your Haunches and Scratch Your Ear with Your Foot Like a Dog
Scratching at the Dinner Table – Fingernails or Fork?
Is It OK to Take Down Your Pants in Public to Scratch Your butt?
D. The Delphinium Society (DS). Learn the manly art of pressing wild flowers.
E. Sunday Morning Pig Wrestlers (SMPW)*. This is only for the athletic. But strength is not the only prerequisite. It takes lightening reflexes and a keen wit to outsmart and subdue a 300 pound Yorkshire brood sow.
F. The Lutefisk and Yodeling Society (LF&YS). Members come together every other Thursday evening to eat lutefisk and yodel.
G. The Broken Toe World Cup Club (BTWCC). The game is played according to the same rules as regular soccer, except the standard leather ball is replaced with an eighteen pound Brunswick bowling ball.
H. The Monday Morning World Cup Club (MMWCC). Comprised of former members of the BTWCC. Instead of a leather ball they use an over-ripe cassaba melon.
I. The Stationary Bird Watchers Society (SBWS). Instead of going onto the forest to watch wild birds, they go to the supermarket and watch dead chickens.
J. The Fungus Club (FC). Members meet monthly and discuss their fungus infections.
K. The Pyorrhea Club (PC) See entry “J” above.
L. Grandma’s Little Skinheads (GLSH). Members shave their heads, pierce their ears, lips, noses, eyebrows and nipples, file their teeth, and have a chest tattoo that reads “Grandma went to Disney World and all I got was this fucking tattoo”.
*There is a rival organization to the SMPW called Sunday Morning Naked Pig Wrestlers (SMNPW). These people are just a little too weird. Steer clear.
I’m declaring this International Man’s best Friend Day. That’s for everybody who loves dogs. I had a wonderful dog named Cleo back in the 70′s. I had another good one named Jet 15 years ago. Here are two dog Sundays from 1991. I didn’t have a computer then, so they are only in black and white.
Just before everybody got nekked. Except me, of course.Maybe not.
And my stupid boat is finally running. I’ve had it 15 years and it’s only run four. I’ve putn two engines in it. But I think I finally got it right. Here’s a cruise up the Miles River on the Chesapeake…Want to hear Buddy Valentine sing Vincent. Probably not…
And here’s the end of the story I started last week. Grandpa and Shorty are trying to bust out of the Cedars of Bayonne Nursing home. (I don’t know why this is underlined. It was doing it last week too. And it’s blue. Go figure.)
Frau Grace and some of our friends around the pool…
Here’s Dyanne with Tom Saputo…
Later on Frau Grace decided she was a carhop…
And a little dancing with the Twirling Applers.
Back in 2010 Grandpa and Shorty tried once again to bust out of the Cedars of Bayonne Nursing Home. Nurse Heimlich was up to the task. I have another Grandpa and Shorty story ready to publish. I’ll do it in a month or so. Here’s week one…
There’s a cat that comes to visit every so often at our house on the Chesapeake. It’s a nice red, real fuzzy cat. I don’t know his name or where he lives. When he comes to visit it’s obvious that he wants to move in. Sometimes he stays under my porch over night. He came by a couple days ago with a new haircut…
Here are three Sundays from January 1994. Back then I was a little freer with my formats. You may be interested to know the formatting Sundays is a pain in the butt. It has to be done in a way so that different newspapers and change the shape and the number panels to fit the space in their newspapers. It’s really bad because I have to add extraneous drawings at the beginning. Back in 1994 I was using different formats to try to make the jokes work better. The dates are 1/9, 1/23 and 1/30. You’ll notice in the January 30 Sunday that I had lots of panels, but they are formatted to fit any format a particular newspaper preferred. Also, back then I drew a title panel for each strip. I show this in that 1/23 strip. I also drew the boxes. Now I print them so they are more regular. I got my first computer in 1996. That’s why these aren’t colored. I particularly like the Spencer strip.
Rick Kirkman, inimitable cartoonist of Baby Blues fame and an old friend, stopped by the Grace shack on his way overseas today. God knows why the army called him up. He’s 60years old, has flat feet, and never shot a gun in his life. No, Just kidding. He’s on his way over there to entertain our troops. Good for you Rick. Rick and his wife, Sukey, live in Arizona. He has two daughters, one named Taylor and one named Madison. He’s one of these men who name their daughters after dead presidents. I’m one of them too. In the comic strip I named Ernie’s baby Fillmore, after my favorite president. Actually I claim that Rick and I are distant cousins because I had a great great aunt whose name was Kirkman. It isn’t that common a name, so I figure it must be true.
Now here’s a series of seven Dr. Pork dailies that I drew in 2000…
The other day. As always, he was resplendent in his attire.
What the heck is THIS?!!! I attract the weirdest bugs…