Polar Bear Punch!

Take that stupidly-designed-thing-that's-supposed-to-make-my-life-easier-but-doesn't!!

"Polar Bear Punch." 
This one might be my favorite card, it was certainly a hoot to do. If you're feeling a bit squeamish about the violence of these perhaps you could do what i do. Imagine that Willy is a metaphor for whatever stands against you. (i said, whatever, not, whomever. Willy is not your boss.) But he may be the embodiment of the sin which your boss or spouse or brother or sister or total stranger sins against you. :D He could be poverty or debt or that twenty pounds you still want to lose or child abuse or divorce or hate or politics-as-usual-divorced-of-the-fear-of-Yahweh. Willy could represent your own sin which you hate; he could be the physical representation of something in this world which soon will not be anymore. Evil. In which case, roll up your sleeves, tape your knuckles and put in the mouthguard. Cuz it's time to get punching!

Or he could just be a poor, fat little man who seems to run afoul of every one he meets. What do i know?

Self harm

Stop hitting yourself...
no, seriously, stop.

Willy cries, 'No Joy.'  Then he just cries.  Should we call someone?  The local hospital perhaps?  

Just in case you're just coming across this picture and saying, "What in the seven hells of New Jersey  is going on here??"  Lemme explain.  No.  There is too much.  Lemme sum up.

i was hired to do illustrations for a cardgame.

The cardgame is called, Nutpunch.

The name of the cardgame is self explanatory.  

This is one the defense cards.

No, to the best of my knowledge, the game is played more like War than Twister.  All violence is imaginary.  i hope.

Marble shot

Stay on target...

i don't consider myself a violent person.  i have some tools, vehicles, rocks, stray cats who pissed on my deck who may disagree but i usually reserve my wrath for inanimate objects.  But i grew up amidst violence... on Saturday morning cartoons.  Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Wile E. Coyote, Foghorn Leghorn, Barnyard Dawg, these were my teachers, my companions, my mentors.  Nutpunch is giving me a chance to finally pay them back for the education they gave me in comedy.  :)

Violent Love

“36 One of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. 37 And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, 38 and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.” (Luke 7)

Ta-Dah!  The violent taking the Kingdom by force!  Was this woman invited?  A woman?  A sinner?  To a pharisee’s home?  Are you kidding?  She is unclean!  She is impure.  No doubt our Pharisee, later named Simon, is thinking he is going to have to fumigate the whole place once this Jesus takes his rabble elsewhere!  He most likely only suffers her presence for the sake of his guest.  An odd concession since he has made no effort, beyond feeding him, to welcome Jesus into his home as yet.  Again we’re reminded of Jesus’ warning in Luke 13, “26 Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ 27 But he will say, ‘I tell you, I do not know where you come from. Depart from me, all you workers of evil!’”  You can have Jesus in your home and still not have him in your heart! 

But the woman.  We were talking about the woman.  Look at her.  I’m sure everyone in the room that day was.  Even those affecting to ignore her.  She is only named as a sinner.  What is her sin?  We don’t know.  Simon knew.  Apparently her reputation preceded her.  Small town.  Everyone knows everyone else’s business.  Like the Samaritan woman at the well, she feels the judging eyes all the time.  There is no anonymity.  There is no relief.  There is no forgiveness.  The best she can do is hide herself from them so as not to feel.  Maybe she drinks to numb the pain.  Maybe she indulges in sex to feel loved, even for a moment.  All the while, adding to her guilt in their eyes.  Adding to her shame.  We don’t know but we probably know many like her.  We might even know exactly what she feels ourselves.

Our modern culture knows.  We understand feelings of shame and guilt… and we have worked hard to abolish both.  No one, we have decreed, should feel judged by anyone.  How can this be accomplished?  By making everything anyone wants to do, perfectly acceptable.  Remove the moral standard or at least, lower it until it is meaningless and all can hold their heads up in pride.  You are the soul arbiter of right and wrong for you.  No one can or should or has the right to judge you.  It sounds lovely.  It sounds like Utopia.  So much so it has even crept its way into the church.  There is a strong resistance to God as Judge now.  Universalism is taking root.  There’s only one problem with it.

It’s a lie.

It’s like saying you can fly because you deny the law of gravity.  Like saying you are a cat because you believe you are a cat.  You can toss off clothes and bathe yourself with your tongue.  You can annoy your friends by speaking exclusively in meows and purrs.  You can even poop in a litter box but you are still just a person pretending to be a cat.  And we are now a culture pretending to be guiltless. 

And we know it.  There is a standard.  It exists apart from us and would be there even if there were no humans to think of it.  There could be no such thing as moral indignation without it.  And yet, when something heinous happens, we all feel it.  Instantly.  It’s not taught.  It’s not learned.  It’s innate.  We know instinctively what is fair and what isn’t.  We know there are things that are inherently “right” like sharing and hugs and M&M’s and we know there are things that are inherently “wrong” like hatecrime and kicking puppies and political ads.  Heck, we have words like “heinous” just because it’s there!  It’s the reason why those who believe most strongly that there shouldn’t be a universal moral code to judge by get so angry when one says there is!  The only thing you’re allowed to judge someone for is judging! 

The Jews in Jesus’ day had no problem with such questions however.  They had the Law of God and they believed it.  Some, like our buddy Simon, actually had the opposite problem.  In their pride, they not only thought they could do God one better by fencing the Law in even further, some thought they could actually keep it!  Some actually believed they could achieve the holiness of God!

Some however knew better.  The woman in Luke 7 is such a one.  She is not ill.  She is not lame or blind or deaf or demon possessed that we know of.  She does not come on behalf of a child or husband or sibling or parent who is.  She comes for healing yes.  But not for her body.  She comes to be healed in her soul. 

The purpose of the Law was to show us holiness.  True holiness.  This should have left us in tears!  For if even Moses could not look on the face of God then what hope did we have?  We only inhabit these bodies for under a hundred years.  What is that to eternity?  If dying removes the veil between God and us then we are undone and the best we could hope for is to be buried in the earth and hidden from His sight!  Simon the Pharisee doesn’t get this.  The disciples with Jesus usually don’t get this though Peter came close on his boat one day.  Here in Luke 7 we’ve seen a Gentile Centurion who did and we’ve seen the compassion of Jesus to the widow. 

Here, our sinful woman puts the two together.  She sees her sin.  She sees God’s Holiness.  She knows the great gulf between them.  She senses it as a black abyss separating her from all she’s wasted her life to find. 

And she sees Jesus.

She sees his mercy, his compassion, his worthiness.  By her act of anointing him with ointment, she calls him Christ, the ‘anointed one.’  Not just a messiah, but The Messiah!  The one who can save her from the chasm, from the dreadful separation!  The one who can forgive sins!  She does not wait.  She does not hide.  She does not preserve her dignity.  She barges in where she is not welcome!  She serves him in the most menial way possible, humbling herself to the dust in front of everyone!  Wasting not even her tears!  This is not religion.  This is not pride or denial.  This is not rite or ritual.  This is not waiting for God’s grace on your terms.  This is violent faith!  This is vehement love!  This is the only proper response to Jesus!  This is the Way.

Dead Woman Walking

“11 Soon afterward he went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. 12 As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her. 13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, “Do not weep.”” (Luke 7)

Before the gecko, before you were in good hands, before the corporations were on your side, before we made a profession of caregiving, before we expected the government to take care of us there was another system in place to insure people would be provided for in adversity, illness and their elder years…

It was called a family.

You didn’t have to find one; God had set it up so you were in one at birth.  A boy would be schooled and cuddled and scolded and trained up until the age of thirteen in one and then he’s ready for the workforce.  He would be apprenticed, either to his own father in the family business or farm or possibly to another man in town who needed a helper or in whose trade the boy had shown a talent.  Perhaps he may be a scholar and continue his education with the scribes, still a form of apprenticeship.  After a time, say five to seven years, he should be established.  He would now know his trade and be ready to take the next step of adulthood: to establish a family of his own.

For the daughter it would begin very similarly.  In the home, some schooling but mostly spending time with her mother and sisters and aunts and grandmother and cousins until she too reached the age of around thirteen.  By this time, she knows her trade; she has spent the last thirteen years learning the ins and outs of the household.  Her body has now told her she is able to bear children and so her father finds for her a suitable husband if he hadn’t had the lad picked out already or he and a friend hadn’t made arrangements much earlier.  This lad is most likely, or ideally a fellow around eighteen to twenty who has recently completed his apprenticeship for you see, the main point of the family unit is to provide!  To insure that his little girl is taken care of.  The cynic, the feminist may bemoan the patriarchal, archaic, authoritarian yea even despotic system that subjugated the will of the woman (remember, she may be thirteen but her body betrays her as an adult now), but if the father loved his little girl (and what kind of real father doesn’t?) and we see in the Bible many instances of fathers who doted and loved their little girls, he would obviously be trying to find the best man he could for her.  Someone from a good family, a hard worker, a lad going places.  This is the ideal of course, towns were small and so selection was most likely limited.  Some years there may be a good crop of raven locked, ruddy rascals to pick from and some years there may just be little Moishe the meager fishmonger.  Oy vey!

To our coddling culture that has extended adolescence right up to the Mid-life Crisis, full of boomerang kids playing videogames in their mommies’ basements and producing a generation of men who not only expect women to take care of them, they are so emotionally handicapped, they need them to, this ancient system sounds strange.  Regardless of how we feel about it, it had merits and it worked much of the time.  A woman was in a system of provision initiated by her father, was handed to her husband and in her declining years would be the purview of her children, most notably an eldest son.

But what if the woman were a widow?  What if she only ever had one son and then he died too?

It doesn’t take even much of a search of the Bible to see God the Father takes a serious view of how sojourners (aliens, immigrants, homeless), the fatherless and widows are treated.  Without even going into Deuteronomy, Psalms, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and those guys affectionately known as the minor prophets, we have God’s original manifesto given in Exodus….

“21 “You shall not wrong a sojourner or oppress him, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt. 22 You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child. 23 If you do mistreat them, and they cry out to me, I will surely hear their cry, 24 and my wrath will burn, and I will kill you with the sword, and your wives shall become widows and your children fatherless.”” (Ex 22)  Pretty straight forward, pretty cut and dried.  God may or may not help those who help themselves but He most certainly saves the helpless! 

“5 Father of the fatherless and protector of widows


    is God in his holy habitation.” (Ps 68) 

And God has come in the flesh to Nain.  A city where a widow follows the bier of her only son.  A young man on whom all her protection and provision and hopes lie dead.  She wails.  Does she wail the words of this very Psalm?  Does she wail the words of Exodus and Deuteronomy to her neighbors on whom she must now trust for aid and alms.  Can she trust them or will she have to resort to the only two trades now left open to her: begging or prostitution?  Both of which will cut her off from community and communion with God!  Her wail, whether of words or guttural howls, is not a request for aid; it is the last cry of a woman at the end of her means looking over the precipice of her doom.  She is undone.  She is a dead woman walking.

Except, God does see.  God does hear.  God is moved!  God does ACT!  In this case, He acts in a way no one could have predicted, no one could have believed, no one could have been praying for.  He stops the funeral procession.  The perfectly pure touches the unclean corpse and says to the mother, “Do not weep.” 

“3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”” (Rev 21)

One...

Yeah, there's larger philosophical questions but i'd really rather have this one answered first.

Gaaaaaaameesss

i'm going to try and get the Rabbit Trails syndicated. So that means reworking them into the box that the syndicated comics world stuffs us cartoonists into. Gosh, i hope there's holes in the box.

Tough love wins

Fratricide

1st Peter 2