I love drawing the lobby of Sampson Enterprises’ mysterious Building 7.
And poor Edison-slowly turning into a filthy Beatnik. Soon she’ll be wearing striped sweaters and a beret, ironing her hair, and reading poetry in some dingy coffeehouse, man. Like, way out.
Because a stoned Edison is easier to control.
Eleanor might think so, anyway, since she doesn’t know her as well as she knows the others. But she’d be in for a surprise. Stoned, drunk, or sober, Edison generally goes her own way.
I think it interesting that when Eleanor says “Fixed and fully functional by three” and Larry says “Tuesday morning. If we’re lucky.” Eleanor doesn’t repeat her order or demand or threaten. She does weedle and guilt trip, but basically she accepts Larry’s engineering judgment. I wish my clients were all so easy to work with.
Those two have a long history of working together. You can see it in “The Adventures of Lyssa and the Pirates,” when they’re working on the discombobulationotron together in the basement.
Eleanor has to assert her authority (and hope she gets her way), and Larry has to set things straight.
Plus, Eleanor knows Larry’s deadlines are dictated by safety concerns. Hard to argue with that.
On a funner note: Donuts! And a space coupe. And a safety(?) poster bragging about 8 days since the last disaster. And something with a number 7. And maybe one of those short, cloaked scavengers from Star Wars. And a tentacle, possibly left over from the last orgy, snagging a donut before the robot gets the last one. Every once in a while you produce a panel that deserves its own key and legend, and I think this is one of them.
Don’t forget the carnivorous (omnivorous?) plant stealing a doughnut. That was more of a snake than a tentacle, but both work. And the… daytime werewolf? There’s always something going on in Building 7.
And a legend? Pops, my friend, you’ve provided a great wone.
Speaking of werewolves, didn’t some other comic strip once feature a werewolf chem major named Bernie? He was lab partners with Mike Doodlebug or somebody. Wonder whatever happened to that strip? Anyway, maybe Bernie has a nephew who works in Building 7.
That was a very old Doonesbury strip, Pops. I still remember it.
Wait… you were pulling my leg, weren’t you.
The thing is… you had to sit there and THINK UP all that stuff! (Including the door marked “STUFF” which is, in and of itself, perfect. Except, it’s probably NOT a door – now I think it’s a label at the top of the bulletin board)
I always have fun trying to complete your half-hidden posters/phrases/lyrics/whatever. “8 days wi(thout a) DIS(ASTER) INCL(UDING) SAF(???)” Sigh. I said I have fun – I didn’t say I was very successful.
WHAT have you done to poor Caliban? He looks god-awfully smug, whatever you’ve done. That … eye-mask? is just … there are no words.
Oh, he’s just out for a stroll with his girlfriend, showing off his new sunglasses!
It’s a lot of fun to think up all that stuff in the background. Though I will never be as good as the MAD Magazine artists who inspired me. Now they could fill a panel!
Is that a mixture of chocolate chips and mayonnaise? That’s not just beatniking, that’s horror straight out of the Necronomiclown
He-hee! Thank you for reminding me of a fun story. Way back when, I did 2 seasons of Summer Stock Theatre with the incomparable Bobb (pronounced “Bob-ub”)James. He said he never got the munchies when he smoked, because one time he’d gone to the fridge, only to find a half full jar of mayonnaise.
“It wasn’t that I ate it all,” he said, “It was that it tasted so good.”
Being stoned does really weird things to your perception, yes. I clearly remember listening to “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals and thinking, with no trace of irony or sarcasm, that the arranger was a genius.
Oy.
I hear ya. I remember back in my college days, listening to the greatest albums ever, going out to buy them, and realizing they were terrible.
I am fully aware of just how odd this sounds, but I’ve just gotta say it. All of your art is amazing, but there is something about that doughnut box that’s just perfect. I don’t know why, of all the great stuff in the first panel, that cellophane box top jumps out at me, but you nailed it.
Well, donuts SHOULD be the center of everyone’s attention. And that box reminds me of Krispy Kreme donuts, my childhood standard.
Up here it’s Sluy’s Bakery, in Poulsbo. And a big shout-out to my favorite doughnut place ever, Sunny’s in Ukiah, California!
Aw, thank you, Dandi Andi! I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes there’s just something in a picture that just works. It’s hard to explain.
That doughnut box was a lot of fun to draw-the off kilter angles, the shading, and the cellophane. I pretty much made up the shading as I went along. I’m so glad you like it, and thank you for letting me know! That’s the kind of thing we artists live for.
Is that Honey Moon I see? And is that scamp Edison introducing Robie to….edibles? (Or are those simply the aftermath of what she actually introduced him to?)
This page is a fine example of why I claim that you don’t DRAW a scene, You CRAFT it. ^^
No Honey Moon yet, my friend. Though her adopted aunt, Mysta Chimera, aka The New Moon Maid, did show up a couple of strips back. I believe she’ll show up pretty soon.
And I agree with you-it feels more like I’m building a strip, line by line, than drawing it. I do think of myself more as a craftsman (still in the novice stage) than an artist.
Maybe I should get all hoity-toity and call Groovy, Kinda, a “hand forged, artisan comic.”
Hand forged? Artisanal? Like, drawn with a goose quill from your own flock and ink you made from oak gall on stretched-and-scraped sheepskin? Boy, your schedule is really gonna slip now….
Yeah, that’d slow me down for sure.
Don’t forget the genuine 8th Century monk’s drawing table, lit with genuine whale oil candles…
The third in the “spaced” series. It ultimately will re place both “spaced” and “wrecked.” It means exactly the same as “wrecked.” But by this time in the evolution of the term politics has crept into it. To “waste” a building means to wreck, destroy or damage it. To “waste” a person means to mutilate, beat up, or kill him. “Waste” as a synonym for “kill” is popular in Vietnam.
And “wasted” has a similar meaning to “wrecked” when applied to someone under the influence of something, or just plain tired.