Doonesbury

When I was a kid, I poured over comics and I had stacks of ‘em under my desk — X-Men, Batman, Spiderman, etc. I read every Archie’s Digest I could get my hands on (yes, I had such a massive crush on Betty).

As I got older, my tastes changed. I would read Calvin and Hobbes’ newsprint exploits every day after school at the library. (Because my elementary and middle schools didn’t take the weekend papers, I had no idea that the strips were ever printed in color until more recently.) I am not overstating facts when I say that I held back tears when Bill Watterson stopped doing Calvin & Hobbes. And if it wouldn’t have been for Garry Trudeau’s Doonesbury, I would’ve never opened a comics page again. I didn’t read it in the same way as I’d consumed comics in the past — I mean there were more important things (read: girls) — and I didn’t always understand it, but I got it. I appreciated it and it always gave me a good chuckle. Nowadays, I don’t open the Sunday paper comics section much but I’m so glad it’s there.

Recently, the Washington Post did an in-depth feature on Trudeau that I could not stop reading (link). One of my favorite parts is where they describe one of the comic strips:

One Sunday this year, Michael Doonesbury and his old friend Bernie were discussing the Iraq war and wondering whether it keeps the president awake at night because of its enormous, heartbreaking human toll. In the final panel, Trudeau cuts to a signature exterior nighttime view of the White House. From inside come two dialogue balloons: “What’s wrong, dear?” And: “It’s the stem cells. I hear their cries.” (see strip)

I am so on top of getting the newest Doonesbury compilation, Heckuva Job, Bushie. Oh yes.