Author Archives: stripfix

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Lynn's Comments: This scenario was actually from a childhood memory. My brother and I did make a television out of a cardboard box, and we did try to put on a show for our friends. What happened was, our dad, who was a born entertainer, took over the box and put on the show for us. He should have been in vaudeville--but, was born a few years too late.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Lynn's Comments: One of the most effective advertising gimmicks ever was the "jingle." My chums and I memorized all of them, and today, I can still sing the bluesy torch song that extolled the goodness of Du Maurier cigarettes. I'm trying to think of a modern equivalent--anyone heard a really good jingle lately?

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Lynn's Comments: This strip was done well before the advent of electronic readers and iPads. It's interesting to see that we continue to wonder how the printed page will survive, and if books as we know them will still be the pleasure they once were--and the best gift ever.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Lynn's Comments: After I sent this strip to the syndicate, I felt badly for having used Cathy Guisewite's exclamation. I think this is the only time I ever used the word "Gakkk!" Years later, after many crazy thought-up sounds: bork, flubble, snooof, snerkk, and so on, I received a letter from someone saying I had stolen Don Martin's words. Don did a fabulous spread for Mad Magazine, and his use of funny sound effects was legendary. I wrote back to say that I knew Don's work, and although my sound effects might be similar, I tried hard not to copy anything of Don's. I mean, how many ways can you depict a scream? In deference to Cathy, I have always spelled "AAAAAUGH!" that way--so that she could have "AAAAKKKK!" all to herself.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Lynn's Comments: "Train of blank" was not mine. Somebody said it somewhere years ago and it stuck in my head. What a great line!--Isn't it strange that you can remember some insignificant little line like this, but forget your licence plate, your passwords and your PIN?

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Lynn's Comments: Chores were a given around our house when I was a kid. In fact, all the kids I knew had to do something to earn their allowance. It was so unfair. I remember thinking how lucky my parents were to have so much power and freedom. They could, if they wanted to, go anywhere without having to say where they were going or when they'd be back. They had money and jobs and a car. My brother and I were servants! We had do what they wanted us to do, be where they wanted us to be, say what they told us to say, and work! I remember snivelling about how hard it was to pile firewood, weed the garden, sweep the walks. Torture. It was TORTURE!

So, when it was my turn to have the upper hand, I told my kids that it was their duty to help around the house. I gave them a chore list and a deadline. They snivelled and complained, and said the same stuff (behind my back) that I said about my folks. They said how lucky I was to be the boss, to have freedom and power and money. They said how unfair I was and how mean! It took patience, strength and perseverance, but in the end, they too learned to pitch in and lighten the load.

Now my daughter has two kids, and the oldest (age two) complains about having to pick stuff up and put it away. Yeah, the best thing about being a grandparent is watching your kids deal with their kids--who are doing the same stuff they did to you!!

Monday, June 23, 2014

Lynn's Comments: My friend, Carol, and I set up a lemonade stand in front of my house, and of course, my mom did all the work. We thought it would take all day to sell our wares, but were surprised to have many customers--one right after the other. It took awhile, years actually, before my dad admitted to calling everyone on the block--asking them to buy.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Lynn's Comments: I think I've told you that Ruth, my mother-in-law, was a weaver. She must have had three looms going at once and extras for friends who wanted to learn. Thrifty and thoughtful, she kept every scrap of fabric and every piece of yarn. The cut ends from her warps and weavings, called thrums (there's a name for everything!), were kept for stuffing and felting and for birds' nests--which I thought was neat. In early spring, Ruth would go for long walks in the woods and leave handfuls of thrums along the way for the birds to find.

An avid birder, she would then retrace her steps and watch for nests, which had been made with her threads. Determined to see me do the same, she gave me a basket of thrums to distribute. We were well into nesting season, and when I still hadn't thrown the thrums, she began to grumble. Annoyed and lazy, I tossed the threads onto our lawn and forgot about them until the lawn needed mowing. I started the mower and was happily going along when suddenly the thing seized with a loud, metallic THWANGGGGG. Smoke came out from under the cowling with a burning rubber smell. I unplugged the mower and turned it over. Strangling the blade was a broad band of colourful, smouldering thrums.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Lynn's Comments: This strip was reprinted many, many times for moms and kids wanting to give it to Dad for Father's Day--but now and then we printed it for dads who just wanted to be reminded how good those baby hugs feel.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Lynn's Comments: My philosophy was, "I don't care if you sleep or not, just go to bed and be quiet." A light on was okay, books and toys were okay. It seemed to me that an hour was all it took for the offspring to weary and crash!

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Lynn's Comments: My dad had the gift of the gab and he made friends everywhere. Mom was much more reserved, and never wanted to attract attention to herself. One night, guess it was about 11:00 pm, we had all gone to bed when a loud police siren was heard outside our house. Right outside. Dad got up, put on his dressing gown, and looked out the window. Two police officers were standing on our front porch--hammering on the door. "Ridgway? Ridgway! Open up!" We were all up by then, and watched as Dad tentatively opened the door. Standing there were two guys he had been chatting up that day. "You got the coffee on?" one said. "We just got off work!" Dad laughed out loud, went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. He had a great time talking to these funny, easy-going guys, and figured it was one of the best nights he'd had in ages. Mom didn't speak to him for a week.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Lynn's Comments: This idea came from a situation in which a friend's house was broken into, and she was upset that the police had seen her unwashed dishes and her unmade bed. I remember thinking: Like wearing good underwear in case of an emergency, you should keep your house tidy in case it's robbed!

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Lynn's Comments: I was on the periphery of hippiedom during the '60s. Never too far out or too far in, just one of the middle masses who liked the concept of "make love, not war"--but I also wanted to make a living. I had the long hair, the tattered sweaters, the jeans, and the vocabulary, and with this, I fit in. I often hung out with people who did drugs. I talked like they did so they'd think I'd "et" (the in-word for having taken drugs), and accept me as just another "head." I liked being an outcast without the risks! Art school connected me with some very smart, creative, and outrageous people--most of whom remained under cover; people didn't identify themselves the way they do now. The youth of today are more openly different. They advertise their eccentricities. They know how to be cool!

If I were 16 right now, I would dye my hair blue, wear mostly black, have a small tat, and turn my tunes up loud! I'd have a few piercings. I'd do subversive cartoons and improv comedy while secretly planning a career in music and medicine. I'd hang out with the Goths, go to churches, mosques, and synagogues looking for truth and enlightenment. And I'd be a vegan--just 'cause it would bug my mother. I'd backpack in Europe, play my guitar on street corners, write poetry, and ponder the meaning of life. I'd be into the Internet: animating, chatting, and exploring it all. If I were 16 right now, I'd be hanging out with the girls in this cartoon--I like to think they are simply a much younger me.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Lynn's Comments: One of the things I remember my husband saying is that the line, "I hate dentists," actually hurt a lot! We went to a large dinner party shortly after he graduated, and when a woman came up to us and said, "You're a dentist? I HATE you!" He was speechless. She said it as a joke, but the statement had hooks and claws--and it put a damper on our evening. Later, Rod said, "What about the folks who are happy to be out of pain? What about kids with a front tooth missing? I give people back their smiles!" True enough, and going to the dentist is no longer painful--but still, the comment comes. Guess it's a lame gag we make out of habit!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Lynn's Comments: I have to tell you a story, here.

Years ago, I was in Santa Rosa visiting Charles and Jeannie Schulz (Peanuts). They had invited me to stay at their home before we all attended a comic art event in San Francisco. They had recently put a very sophisticated alarm system into their house--and were just getting used to how it worked.

I had not stayed before in their guest room and was pretty nervous about, well, everything: Did I talk too much? Did I keep the room neat? Did I use too much water--you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, after dinner we hit the sack, and the wind started to blow hard against the windows. Soon the trees were whipping wildly against the house, and all of a sudden, this massive, deafening alarm went off: WAAAA! WAAAAAA! WAAAAA! WAAAA!!!! All the lights in the house turned on, and so did all the lights in their yard. It was as if giant searchlights were trained on the windows. In a blind panic, I ran up the stairs into their kitchen, and there were Sparky and Jeannie in their pyjamas saying, "Wha? Wha's happening? Wha???." It was great. Here we all were hopping about in our pyjamas, ready for the end of the world.

Well, the next day S&J decided to rework the sensitivity on some of the outdoor sensors, and maybe cut the lights down a bit. We went to the comic art event, and I returned home, no longer shy of Charles Schulz. Having seen the great man running around in his pyjamas, I could say we were now well acquainted.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Lynn's Comments: In real life, this didn't happen; the story grew around the idea of Elly babysitting, and I kept saying to myself, "what if?" It's the sort of thing you do when you're lying in bed and wondering where your teenaged kids are. You come up with all kinds of "what ifs"! When you look after little ones, the troubles encountered are often bathroom related, so this was my imagination running wild!

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Lynn's Comments: Some strips need no commentary. I think this one of the rare ones that, while I was drawing it, made me laugh out loud!

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Lynn's Comments: My two and a half year old granddaughter views the potty as a torture device. Just the suggestion that she give it a try can bring on a fit. Thanks to friends' recycled mini-biffs, and cool scores at the second hand shop, we have been able to offer her a variety of receptacles: pretty colours with transparent glitter-filled seats, ones that play musical ditties, and others which display the grinning gums of familiar animated characters all thrilled to have done the job where it's supposed to be done--but no deal.

We have determined, since she no longer fits on the change table, that it's time. Very soon we will all take part in the process of elimination--which suggests that we (her mom, dad and I) will give up until one is left to watch for widdle and divine for dumps. With this in mind, I read the above comic strip and thought; "At least he USES the darned thing!!!"

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Lynn's Comments: When I was a teenaged baby sitter, I resented it when the parents who hired me came home late. Having had kids (and now being a grandma) I understand why parents want to stretch their freedom for as long as possible--and often forget the time.